Rathgopogue (My Picture)

My picture looks placid, even ideal. The month of May. My sister Jennie and I are on the grass in the meadow. I make a daisy chain for her.

In the distance you can see the trees, sweet chestnut, which have prckly shells and taste delicious when freshly dropped.

We were on a visit to see our grandparent’s farm. We had no toys. We made our own from stones and what was available.

In the brook were tawneys – tiny fish. Animals I never liked, even dogs; and geese terrified me. But I would gather eggs for my aunt.

She loved cows, and would talk to them as she milked them. I remember helping to turn the churn handle to make butter which was kept in a cold dairy and taken to the creamery once a week.

In harvest time, they threshed the corn, when neighbours would help; and on the last night (probably two days only) there would be a sing song – it was a long time ago.

I remember my aunt’s wedding part, when my father sang Irish songs in the big farm kitchen. That farm was sold a few years ago. I still write to Tom, my aunt’s son, who lives on the farm where he was born. The old house is now a farm shed. Farms are very different now, and land is extremely valuable. Tom grew sugar beet up to this year, but the sugar processing plant in Mallow has now closed and production has switched to Hungary. I do not know what has replaced it.

Rose Lynch

27-Jun-2004

27-jun-2004