Dreams come true

Pardon me while I interrupt the Ireland blogging, but I have some fantastic news! I’ve been offered my very first book contract by Harlequin Mills & Boon for my historical novel His Chosen Bride!!

I am so excited. I think I have perma-smile on my face right now. It happened at 10:03 a.m. in my third period class. I was about to give them their quiz when my editor called. I believe my words were: “I really hope you’re calling for the reason you’re calling.” And she was! I was dancing in the middle of my third period class saying, “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. OH. MY. GOSH.” :confused:There may have been stronger words, but I can’t quite remember. It’s a blur right now.

I’ll let you know details as I receive them, but for now, join me in a virtual celebration! The dream I’ve had since I was twelve-years-old, to be a published author, has come TRUE!!

Devenish Island

After finding a lost relative, we spent time looking over the tombstones in Kinawley. Morbid, I know, but it was also fascinating. We saw all sorts of family names. One of the toughest parts was seeing the grave of an infant or child. Maybe it’s the mom in me, but I get very teary-eyed whenever I see a child who didn’t live. It bothers me.

We ended the day, searching for the ferry to Devenish Island. Upon the island, there is one of the best-preserved 12th century round towers. I was excited for the chance to go inside, because in one of my books His Chosen Bride, the characters hide inside a round tower. I wanted to understand how they would get from one level to the next. Ladders? Ropes? Stairs? Since we didn’t want to take the full Lough Erne tour, we went in search of a pier where we could just take a water taxi or ferry directly to Devenish.

From my husband’s watchful eye, he spotted a small sign leading to the ferry. Once again, we had to drive blindly down a one-lane road, which was even more fun because of all the mist and rain. We reached the small dock and found the boat house locked and closed. The ferry times listed in our guidebook didn’t match what was listed at the pier. Not to mention, the boat that was supposed to come, never did. Can you imagine being this close and not being able to get across the water? I was ready to hijack a canoe. Or swim. Or something! Here we are, in front of a tower that I NEED to go inside for research…and the ferry isn’t there. It was maddening. I vowed that some how, some way, I would find a round tower in Ireland to go inside.

We spent the night at Abocurragh Farm, which was a lovely guest house with its own dairy cows. We enjoyed watching the cows walk down the road to be milked. Rush hour in Ireland, I tell you. And to top off the day, our hostess was shocked to find that my father-in-law’s family grew up only a few miles away. For you see, the next door neighbors at Abocurragh had the same last name as ours. Small world!

Venturing into Northern Ireland

The trip to Enniskillen, in northern Ireland, took a bit longer from Donegal than we’d thought, even with the beloved green national roads. When we passed the border into northern Ireland, we noticed two things. One, there was no acknowledgement whatsoever that we had crossed into another country. No ‘Welcome to Northern Ireland’ signs at all. Second, the speed limit signs changed from kilometers per hour into miles per hour. This wouldn’t have been a problem, except that our rental car didn’t have mph on the speedometer. Complex math conversions! Ack! Curses!

To our left, we saw the shores of Lough Erne. The lake was much wider than you’d imagine, and it would take about 15 minutes via motorboat to cross to the opposite side (width). I was also surprised to see low mountains in the distance. When we reached the city of Enniskillen, I was very impressed. It’s a very European-style city with quaint winding streets, bakeries, and little shops. I could have spent hours wandering around. But we actually came here with a purpose in mind–to discover what happened to my husband’s great-grandfather who immigrated from northern Ireland in 1906. First stop: the Town Hall.

We went to pick up a package left by the registrar. It turned out that his great-grandfather Terence came from a small town called Kinawley in the parish of Coragh. The registrar unearthed a treasure of information. Not only did he have records, but he also had a map to the family homestead. He found the phone number of a man whom we believe was related to my husband’s family. Apparently the man who bought the land, bought it from his uncle Patrick. And his uncle? None other than a mysterious older brother, of my husband’s great-grandfather Terence.

Apparently, when they traced the birth records, they found siblings that we knew about…and Patrick suddenly showed up as the eldest brother. Who was he? Was he from a former marriage? Was he an illegitimate son? Where did he come from? We don’t know the answers. But we were ready to venture out into the countryside to find the family homestead.

Like Indiana Jones, we made our way to Kinawley, thoroughly prepared to get lost. Why? Because none of the streets had names. Directions consisted of–turn left at 700 meters, drive 350 meters and turn right. The area was all farmland, and some of the “roads” looked like private driveways. I voted for a stop at the local post office, and sure enough they knew the man we were seeking. But directing us on how to find his farm? That was another matter. After two wrong turns, we stopped for directions.

Neighbor #1: Oh, is it John McKenna you’re looking for? Well, I wouldn’t be knowing where this road is, but if you go back into town and turn left by the school, go down to the end, you’ll find him.

Neighbor #2: (after I showed him the map) Ah yes, it’s Coragh you’re wanting. No, I can’t say where we are on this map, but you’re not far.

Neighbor #3: You turned at the wrong school. Turn at the road on your left before the speed limit sign and you’ll see another school. Then you keep going until the road ends, make a U-turn, and you’re there.

Thank goodness, the last neighbor helped us find it. I had visions of being forever lost. Then we finally located the owner John McKenna. I don’t know about you, but I do see a family resemblance from the three men (John is in the center, along with my husband and father-in-law).

John showed us the remains of the family homestead, which consisted of a foundation and the back gable wall of the house. In the center of the two buildings, you can see the concrete foundation where the house began and the shed that’s on the right, built on the remains, still has the original wall. It’s hard to imagine 10-12 people living in a house of that size. I’d say the dimensions were 10′ by 20′ total. (The building on the left has nothing to do with the original house.) But it was really something to find traces of the past and imagine the lives of my husband’s family, struggling to survive here.

Donegal

The morning after we spent the night at Enniscoe, I tried blood pudding for the first time. It was completely different than I thought it would be. The exterior had a nutty, crunchy texture while the interior resembled crunchy hamburger meat. I think it’s an acquired taste.

Later that morning we drove to Crossmolina where a nine-year-old with a strong resemblance to Opie pumped gas for us. His father taught him to make change, and his chest stuck out with pride. He was a sweetie–I could have spread him on toast.

Anyway, we drove to Ballina where once again angels sang and hosannas rang as we drove onto the N26 to the N17. A real highway! With passing lanes!! There was great rejoicing throughout the land. We put on the Riverdance soundtrack and drove through the mountains with the lightness of heart that we weren’t going to die a fiery death off a cliff or be eaten by sheep.

When we arrived in Donegal, we drove through the town from one end to the other three times before we found our parking area. The town is incredibly small and you can walk the entire length, surprisingly. My husband wanted to shop at Magee’s, a store famous for its tweeds. How can you go to Donegal and not buy tweed? We bought our son a pie-pan cap, but didn’t find one for my husband.

We drove along the coast toward the fishing town of Killybegs and were thankful that our B&B was closer to Kilcar. Killybegs was very industrial and the harbor view was taken up by large ships. Near Kilcar, the scenery is peaceful and coastal with a gorgeous view. We made it to our B&B Inishduff and discovered that the boat tour of the Slieve League (the highest European coastal mountains) was booked. It meant we would have to drive on our own instead.

Our hostess recommended the coastal road, but in retrospect, it’s only fitting for suicidal goats. The road hangs along the cliff edge, has one lane, and parts of it go straight up where you can’t see oncoming traffic. It was terrifying. After missing the turn-off once, we found ourselves in the Gaeltacht where all signs were in Irish. My meager one semester of Irish wasn’t helping, so we turned around and eventually found the path.

We opted to drive to the top, once again risking life and limb. Although my face turned ten shades of white and green, it was well worth it in the end. The granite gray mountains have deeply carved ridges, and they plunge directly into a green-blue sea. The waves sound like a heartbeat as they crash against the rocks, are sucked into an inlet and are forced out again. Brilliant purple heather lines the mountainside and sheep grave above death-defying drops. Only a thin wire fence separates you from certain death.

There’s a stunningly beautiful quality to the Slieve League. Rugged, jagged, and fierce, the mountains stretch sunward. Seeing that cliffside is well worth the trip to Donegal. Even if you don’t find the perfect tweed cap.

Enniscoe House

After much cajoling, pleading, and whining, I convinced my Greatest Husband Ever to take me to a luxury hotel for at least one night when we were in Ireland. I chose Enniscoe House because it was halfway between Connemara and our next day’s destination, Donegal. We also wanted a day to relax and just vacation. Sometimes when people travel, they don’t stop to actually enjoy themselves and do nothing. So Enniscoe House because our “Do Nothing” day. And it will be one of my favorite places.

The day became known in my mind as the Day For Getting Lost. The wonderfully wide N59 completely transformed into a narrow mountainous road. Once again, the views were achingly beautiful with high mountains. We even passed Leenane, Ireland’s only fjord (shown here at the right). After missing our turn in Castlebar and another one in Pontoon, eventually we made our way to Laherdane. Why? To visit Leonard’s Pub, (my married name). The pub is conveniently located beside Leonard’s Funeral Home, which was a real kick. As soon as we walked in, heads turned and we got the ‘You’re Not From Around Here’ accusing look. Laherdane is a town where everybody knows everybody. But we took pictures and spoke to a few folks who might be distant relatives of my father-in-law.

We drove to Enniscoe, an 18th century manor house, where we booked our stay. The house is just amazing. Made of rose stone, it’s like stepping into the 18th century. Our room, shown here, overlooked a view of Lough Conn and the mountains. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to live in a place like this all the time? There was an Aubusson rug and all the furniture was antique.

The Victorian walled garden was beautiful, on an intimate scale. With sculpted hedges and perennials bursting with color, you feel like you’ve stepped into the Secret Garden. We enjoyed tea and pie and wandered through an agricultural museum that had old photographs and farming equipment.

We walked through a forest path until we reached the lough. It was quiet with trees shading the path and St. John’s Wort blooming along the way. Blackberries grew in thickets on either side, and when we reached the lough, I dipped my hand in. It wasn’t as cold as I thought it would be. You could actually swim in it without catching hypothermia. If you ever get a chance to visit Enniscoe, definitely take advantage of eating dinner there. (After all, the nearest town is 20 minutes away and to drive there in the dark is suicidal–no lights). Our hostess Susan served a six course meal of cheese souffle, potato leek soup, chicken, chocolate cake, and farm cheses. It was to die for. And there’s something special about dining by candlelight in an 18th century manor. You can almost hear the ghosts of the past.

Kylemore Abbey

On our second day in Connemara, we drove to see Kylemore Abbey. The abbey is currently a boarding school for girls. Let me just say, I would love to be a student here, wouldn’t you? The estate was originally built for the owner’s wife, who passed away. Then it was converted to the abbey, and finally the boarding school. The abbey overlooks a gorgeous lake, surrounded by mountains. It’s quiet, serene, and it has a wonderful walkway along the lake where you can see mountain waterfalls and even a statue of Jesus with his arms raised out, tucked away in the mountain. Several trees are numbered, and it’s our guess that these were likely part of a botany or biology class for students to identify.

Further down the walk, you come to a miniature cathedral. The architecture is Gothic, and inside, there are marble columns from each part of Ireland. The Cathedral was just beautiful inside, and they played soft, reflective music by a girls’ choir.

You can see a picture of the columns and the interior of the church here:

One of my other books is set in Victorian England, and it was fascinating to see the interior of the Kylemore estate. The first room you enter has items belonging to the abbey and priestly garments. The next room would most likely be considered the drawing room. I have these three pictures of the interior. Some of my favorite items were the chess set, the piano, and the bookcases. And last, but not least, who could resist eating in a dining room like this one? There were signs warning visitors to stay away from the dining room table (which held real silver and Waterford crystal). An alarm system was in place to protect it.

After we finished touring the estate, we continued to the formal gardens. There were formal gardens like in this photograph, and if you look at the very back, you’ll see a glass house. There’s nothing in the middle, but it used to be a glass house that spanned the entire width of the formal gardens. They’re in the process of trying to rebuild it the way it used to be. All sorts of exotic plants like a Monkey’s puzzle tree and these large Brazilian plants, were growing. Inside the glass house were varieties of tomato, peppers, and strange yellow cucumbers. They also had grape vines.

In the second section of the gardens, there was every kind of fruit, vegetable, and herb you could think of. Orchards were on one side, while other sections held strawberries. There were vegetables to include potatoes, zucchini, and squash. I can imagine the boarding school girls having to tend a small plot, just to keep a garden of this size going!

What’s the most exotic thing you’ve ever grown in a garden?