Sometimes My Backyard Reminds Me of Ireland

Saturday, May 21, 2011

I wrote this story years ago, one day when I was looking out my kitchen window into my back yard and reflecting on a wonderful trip my husband and I had taken to Ireland.

Today my backyard reminds me of Ireland.  The trees are fully leafed; their branches--soaked--are a stark black contrast against the emerald leaves.  The lawn is another hue and the wild, natural strip yet un-mowed, another still.  The blue spruce is distinguished from the white pine and the rest of the evergreens.  The hibiscus bushes are beginning to bloom in their pots on the deck.  They add a spark of color to a variety of 40 shades of green. 

Maybe my yard doesn't really look much like Ireland after all.  A robin lands on the deck rail.  Then a purple finch takes a dip in the birdbath on the corner post.  If I sit quietly for a minute, I'm sure to see the oriole that stops every now and again at the shepherd's hook outside my window, tantalized by the grape jelly and orange halves set out especially to attract him.  However, I have never seen a grebe or a razorbill here.

Actually, now that I've sat a moment and contemplated it, why should my backyard remind me of Ireland?  There are no remnants of castles and fortresses, no stone hedges separate my lot from my neighbors' and there are no sheer cliffs.

Although my property has a home that I like to consider my castle, there is no equivalent to Blarney here--no ancient shell with its narrow stairway leading you to the sky, where, to have a chance to gain the gift of eloquence, you may lie on your back and arch to kiss the Blarney Stone. 

Rhododendrons, which we have never been able to winter over in Wisconsin, would not be considered a nuisance plant in my yard.  They most certainly would not grow to 25 feet or higher. 

There is no Ring of Kerry (to be traveled counter clockwise) or a Dingle Peninsula (to be traversed clockwise) with their breath-taking vistas here.  Although my backyard is park-like, there is certainly no Ladies View--the most spectacular outlook in all the land.  There is no Reeks--no mountain ridge--to be seen here. 

My flower pots--even at the height of the growing season--won't measure up to the baskets on the store fronts of the little shops of Killarney.

There are no peat bogs on my property...a little black mud maybe.  But, I won't be harvesting any sod to keep the hearth and home warm this winter.

And, although my daughter's pets do like to graze in our backyard on occasion, they don't resemble the sheep mowing the pastures and hillsides of Ireland.  Bailey, her German Shep is no sheep dog. 

Except for a brief rain like the one that fell today, there is no Irish mist to keep everything lush and growing all summer long.  The lovely green grass I see today will turn into straw by late summer. 

No, except for the many greens of this late spring day, maybe my backyard really doesn't remind me of Ireland.