Before I arrived in Achill Island my impression of bogland would have been boring, dull and mundane.  In essence, nothing to see.  Much to my surprise I discovered that there was indeed attractiveness in the bog.  Umber brown, fuchsia pink, taupe, the colours were certainly a feast for my eyes.

The word bog comes from the Irish word soft like the saying ‘tóg go bog é’ – take it softly or easy.  A reminder to trust myself to soft self-care. 

I decided as my boots slapped on the pathway that I wanted to find out more about this strange landscape of water infilled with soft, soggy sphagnum mosses. So, by the end of the first week, I ventured out and explored the raw and untamed landscape around me. Despite the brightness in the day there was a chill in the air which nipped my nose. I felt alive.

The first thing my body noted was the quietness in the air which soothed my tight knotted bones. There was no head-pounding beat of loud music from an anti-social and selfish neighbour stressing me out.  I recalled long nights with little sleep as I lay in bed tortured by my neighbour’s self-centeredness.  A set of headphones would have made all the difference, but my neighbour carried on regardless without any concern of me. As I sauntered, I could sense my anger towards him in my clamped tight lips, forehead and chest.

I turned my gaze to the sky and whispered ‘Thank you God’ relieved that those days were firmly in the past. 

Strange as it may seem as I strolled along the path which curved the bog, I sensed I was not alone.  Perhaps it was a trick of the sunlight, but my eyes took in long willowy shadowy figures. I have to say at this point that the attractiveness in the bog was more than aesthetic, there was beauty simply in its ancientness. There was something in the bog that warmed my heart, maybe knowing that people had harvested turf from the wet and stagnant landscape for centuries.  Perhaps, there was something quintessentially Irish that touched my heart and now I was part of its story rooted in place.  I can’t truly explain why the sight of Peatland gave me comfort; all I can say is that it did and it was at that point that I noted the heavy burden of anger which bore me down had vanished.

Each step brought me to the realization that I had made the right choice of Achill.  I also had the option of a cabin in Donegal, and for several weeks it was at the fore of my initial intention, but as time moved on  I began to favour Achill because it was an island, and I had never stepped foot in it.

I became intrigued by the plants that make their home in the bogs. I learned about Sundew, a small insect eating plant which has glistening sticky, red-tipped tentacles which insects mistake for a tempting droplet of nectar. Unfortunately, once the insect lands they are stuck and over the course of a few days the plants secrete digestive enzymes to consume its captive catch.  

It is indeed a blessing to be bordered by wild things.  As I write I am surrounded by bird song and the sky is speckled by swallows, goldfinches and blue tits. The clumps of moss at my doorstep reveal their perfectly geometric design when I stop and look.  My biorhythm is slowing, and I appreciate the value of pausing rather than the mad dash of modern life. The rhythm here lends itself to slowness and I for one appreciate that.

I discovered that bogs once were considered sacred places where water, earth and sky merged, and where the veil was thin.  The bog also signposted me to an old Irish tale which now I am working on.  Achill has inspired and introduced me to new stories. No longer weary from the pain of loudness and speed I have time to take in the stories the stories here.  And what is the story I hear you ask?   All I can say is that it is a tale of a King sacrificed into the watery bog.  Dear reader, I shall certainly spin the tale shortly when I figure out the details. 

It appears that my ‘wintering’ period has ended, but I have decided to remain for the summer.  I am uncertain what will happen when my lease terminates but that is a concern for another day.

Until Next Time.