{"id":458,"date":"2021-05-01T12:49:06","date_gmt":"2021-05-01T16:49:06","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/wanderofwanders.com\/?p=458"},"modified":"2025-08-26T13:36:14","modified_gmt":"2025-08-26T17:36:14","slug":"a-tale-of-two-countries-or-homes-sweet-homes","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wanderofwanders.com\/index.php\/2021\/05\/01\/a-tale-of-two-countries-or-homes-sweet-homes\/","title":{"rendered":"A tale of two countries, or homes sweet homes"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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The world-renowned Burren orchid, an iconic image of my new home. It is a wonderful flower to behold! <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

The swans are back!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was not expecting them yesterday when I brought my book down to the banks of Lake Atedaun for a bit of sun and reading on a glorious, warm afternoon. Perhaps it was the tinkling sound of gravel under my foot, perhaps it was only the intake of my breath when I saw them so close to me near the shore, hunting for morsels of food. Startled, they took wing, not to flight but only to skim the surface of the lake, and thus escape this human intruder. Their great wings made such a sound as I have never heard, a forceful rushing of collective wind that left me awestruck. Three beats, four, five, and they were far away, out of my alleged clutches. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I notice I say the swans are back,\nas if I\u2019m some sort of old hat, as if I have history to spare here in the\nvillage of Corofin, and know its annual contours. In fact, I\u2019ve not lived here\nlong enough for even a year to have passed, hardly local bona fides to be\ntalking about swans coming back. And yet I saw them depart last fall. And yet I\nrely on my seasonal wits. And yet I feel no one here would judge me for my impertinence.\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As it turns out, the swans are not\nalone in returning home after a hiatus. I, too, am back in North Clare after\nspending about six weeks in Maine during March and April \u2013 hence, and with\napologies, the reason I have not written a blog in so long. I return fully\nvaccinated, I return refreshed from visits with friends and family, and I return\ngladly. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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And speaking of iconic images, here’s one from my home in Maine: the Cape Neddick Light Station, Nubble Light.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

I am so very, very blessed to call home two miraculous places on the face of the earth \u2013 a coastal New England town with rivers to spare, a mountain to climb and oceanside walks to take the breath; and a tiny village in County Clare with lakes to spare, fields of fulsome green and a stone mountain range that is home to bounteous flora and fauna \u2013 including a most beautiful and rare orchid. Yet for all the natural beauty, people in County Clare and indeed all of Ireland spent the winter, frankly, in a long-term funk.  The ever-increasing strictures that the government began imposing with the first waft of fall breezes had by October reached Level 5 and is just now, six months later, easing up. At level 5, we residents were allowed to go to grocery and hardware stores and travel within 3 miles from home. That, my readers, was essentially that. Vaccinations, thanks to a colossal imbroglio between the European Union and AstraZeneca over insufficient doses, were as rare as hen\u2019s teeth. You could see the weight of it all in people\u2019s eyes (the only part of their faces visible because of masking), and in a certain careworn weariness in their voices. \u201cHow are you holding up?\u201d meant, literally, how are you holding up? And I knew that look was in my eyes, that voice was my voice, all the more perhaps because I arrived just months earlier as really a stranger in a strange COVID land. To be fair, \u201cHow are you holding up?\u201d was followed in fairly short order with a shrug of the shoulder and a \u201cSure, what are you going to do?\u201d \u2013 a testament to that indomitable Irish spirit. I, however, was not feeling quite so sanguine, I\u2019m afraid. So when the government announced in late February that it was extending the Level 5 lockdown until mid-April, I chose to go back to the states. I have no regrets. The day I arrived in early March, Maine began offering vaccinations to people in my age group, and I soon availed myself of that offer. Within a day or two, I found myself in a clothing store \u2013 a clothing store! \u2013 allowed in by a head-counting employee. I met a friend for lunch on an outdoor deck of a restaurant \u2013 a restaurant! \u2013 and marveled. This is really how people can live with COVID-19? I don\u2019t blame the Irish government for their strictures. They were doing what they needed to do to protect an island people. And I\u2019m mindful that I\u2019m very lucky to have another place to call home. I returned in mid-April, to a hint of warmer weather in the air, a 15-mile travel zone, and a promise of life nearly back to normal by June. I do think it is possible that by summer\u2019s end, I might actually be able to amble down the street here in Corofin and listen to traditional music of a night at one of the local pubs, or travel to Greece or England or some other far-flung European place. What a gift that would be!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because here\u2019s the rub. While I loved being back in my US home, at the same time I yearned for my home in Ireland. Particularly now, as the Burren comes into its own, as the wildflowers for which it is known throughout this wide world begin to bud and flourish. Within days after my arrival, I took two long hikes there, glorying in this wonderland. Just this week, I saw a livestreamed interview with a biologist who specializes in Burren flora and fauna. He said when people see pictures of the Burren, they see a stone mountain range many (including me) have described as a lunar landscape. And it is true that, from afar, that would seen an apt turn of phrase. But hike into it, he says, and you will see just how teeming with life it really is. Here is the rare orchid, there is delicate yellow primrose, further down the trail is the deep purple gentian. Wild mountain goats climb effortlessly up the rocky outcrops. And it\u2019s barely May. This may be my first spring here in North Clare but I feel secure in the knowledge that next spring, I will no longer be an impertinent newcomer, that the old hat will fit comfortably on my head\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Coming soon, I hope: I am allowed inter-county travel starting soon, so am planning a three-day trip to the Ring of Kerry. I\u2019ll take you along. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Finally: When I was back in my hometown in Maine, I had chance encounters with two women \u2013 one who was checking in people at the hospital\u2019s PCR testing site and the other a cashier at the grocery store \u2013 who asked me if I was \u201cthe Deborah McDermott who wrote the blog.\u201d I was so nonplussed that people I didn\u2019t know actually read and liked my blog that I didn\u2019t properly thank either of you. I thank you now. You validated for me that that these are not words lost in cyberspace or read mostly by friends and family, but have merit in their own right. And for that I am very grateful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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From top left, left to right: the swans (from a distance) on Lake Atedaun; downtown Corofin at 9pm at night with twilight still in full force; my favorite beach in Maine, York Harbor Beach; a funky, rusting gate I took on one of my recent walks here; delicate flowers clinging to a stone wall; wild primrose in the Burren; wild goats perched on a rocky outcrop in the Burren; lobster buoys on the side of a lobster shed in Maine. <\/figcaption><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The swans are back! I was not expecting them yesterday when I brought my book down to the banks of Lake Atedaun for a bit of sun and reading on a glorious, warm afternoon. Perhaps it was the tinkling sound of gravel under my foot, perhaps it was only the intake of my breath when I saw them so close to me near the shore, hunting for morsels of food. Startled, they took wing, not to flight but only to skim the surface of the lake, and thus escape this human intruder. Their great wings made such a sound as I have never heard, a … Continue Reading<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1400,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-458","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\nA tale of two countries, or homes sweet homes - Not all who wander are lost<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/wanderofwanders.com\/index.php\/2021\/05\/01\/a-tale-of-two-countries-or-homes-sweet-homes\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"A tale of two countries, or homes sweet homes - Not all who wander are lost\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"The swans are back! I was not expecting them yesterday when I brought my book down to the banks of Lake Atedaun for a bit of sun and reading on a glorious, warm afternoon. Perhaps it was the tinkling sound of gravel under my foot, perhaps it was only the intake of my breath when I saw them so close to me near the shore, hunting for morsels of food. Startled, they took wing, not to flight but only to skim the surface of the lake, and thus escape this human intruder. Their great wings made such a sound as I have never heard, a ... 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I was not expecting them yesterday when I brought my book down to the banks of Lake Atedaun for a bit of sun and reading on a glorious, warm afternoon. Perhaps it was the tinkling sound of gravel under my foot, perhaps it was only the intake of my breath when I saw them so close to me near the shore, hunting for morsels of food. Startled, they took wing, not to flight but only to skim the surface of the lake, and thus escape this human intruder. Their great wings made such a sound as I have never heard, a ... 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