In the age of instant heat, there is something seriously ancient about a man spending a day on the bog, saving turf for winter fires. But today, that man was me... We spent six solid hours wheeling bags of peat out to the road. It was a beautiful day, with a slight breeze but not a cloud in sight.
My father and mother were there too, working hard and having fun at the same time. Around these parts the turf is still cut by hand and saved in the old fashioned way, and a lorry load will see a house through a cold winter. We have an open fire at home and love to light up from October onwards. I brought the camera to catch the bogcotton... a beautiful sight!
Of course, after all this hardship, I had to give my scheduled run a miss. We really have to take advantage of the good weather to save the turf - so this could take a few days out of the schedule.
Ah, but it's nice to be up there with the larks singing, golden plovers piping and a gentle breeze sifting through the cotton grass.
ReplyDeleteFor the first time in years we didn't cut any peats this time. Last year we'd difficulty getting a local farmer to bring it down from the moor and in the meantime someone slashed open all our bags.
Anyhow Breandán, back to some serious training now, Dublin's not far away!