While visiting the brother in law and his family this weekend in Ballymore, I was witness to an unusual scene. Now, before I describe this scene, let me first tell you what it is like in Ballymore. Ballymore, is just outside of Mullingar. While I am generally unimpressed with the terrain of the midlands, turf bogs, boreens, fields as far as the eye can see... Mullingar is a fair sized, thriving town. There are plenty of shops, pubs, and restaurants in Mullingar. About 20 minutes outside of Mullingar, lies Ballymore. Ballymore, a place where the local shop is appropriately called 'The Store' simply because there is no other shop to contest that. A place where the boreens and turf bogs are plentiful. A place where a whole new meaning is given to the comical 'Traffic Jam in Ireland' postcards with loads of sheep in the road; Because this actually happens in a place like Ballymore.
Regardless of the surrounds of Ballymore, we always have a lovely visit with the brother in law and the family. As was custom this weekend. Good food, good company, play with the nieces and nephew, have a drink, a chat and a laugh in the evenings. The one comment I always seem to make half way through the two and a half hour journey is, 'Oh, we should have brought the camera.' Was I ever sorry I forgot the camera on this journey. Alas, I can only try to describe the ethereal vision that I beheld.
Being banished to the colder climes to enjoy my morning fag, I was taking in the scenery while I sat on the stoop out back. A low lying fog covered the cow filled fields. While imbibing my first nicotine of day, I enjoyed the relative stillness and quiet of the morning. With the occasional, 'moooo' from my dim witted companions. Suddenly, I thought I could hear someone talking in the distance, yet it seemed to be coming closer. I still couldn't see anyone, but laughed to myself thinking if my dim witted companions could really talk, would they have Irish accents? A figure started to emerge from the fog and came to stand on a hill in the middle of the cow filled field. I laughed again to myself, thinking of technology in a sense, and what farmers of days of old what have thought of mobile phones. Especially this particular farmer, in the middle of his field of cows, moving to higher ground so he could talk on his mobile. I even pondered what the person the farmer was talking to, thought of the occasional, yet loud, mooing in the background. All of these things, kept me amused, but did not prepare me for what happened next.
Now I know cows are nosy. When I used to hang the laundry out at the mother and father in law's house, I would moo to the cows across the ditch at the bottom of the garden. I would get about 5-10 cows that would come up to that clearing in the trees where they could see me and they would all just stand and stare at me. I would antagonise them further by continually saying, 'Hi moo cows.' I suppose I needed to feel like I had a pet. Cows don't make good pets, but they were better than my other option... rats. I digress....
So, here we are, a low lying fog on a cow filled field, with a lone figure, standing on a hill, talking on his mobile. The cows made a clearing around the hill the farmer was standing on and all gathered round in a circle to stare at the farmer. I kid you not! They stood like perfect statues, all staring at the man on top of the hill. He paced around a bit while he talked, but their eyes never left him and they never shifted their poses. With it being a Sunday and all, the thought occurred to me that I was witnessing an ethereal vision of cows in church. As I couldn't actually see the man's mobile, it looked like he was talking to the cows. They were listening intently too, every once in a while, a cow would let out a big moo, as if agreeing with what was being said. I think I was as captivated as the cows were at what I was witnessing. I was so sorry that I didn't have a camera to capture this strange moment forever.
I knew I needed a witness. I quietly went into the house to get my husband so he could see this strange apparition as well to confirm I wasn't dreaming. When my husband came out with me, the farmer was gone. But the cows were still in the exact same position, all standing motionless, in a circle, staring at the now empty hill.
I've never liked going to church. I've always found it to be very early on a Sunday, which is supposed to be a day of rest. That's what I tend to do when I go to church, rest. It's like someone reading me a story to lull me to sleep. Yet I find myself having a newfound reverance. I think I'm going to buy me some wellies. Come next Sunday, I'm going to find me a perfect cow filled field, complete with low lying fog and a nice little hill. Watch out moo cows, here I come, I think you'll be interested in what I have to say!
No comments:
Post a Comment