.........and the Rest of the Day to You.That is what my Irish father-in-law would say every morning to his family. So on St. Patrick’s Day, I say it to all.
The pics are of a wee folk Charlie and I spied this morn on our walk through the woodlands. 
We spied him several times and Charlie very nearly had him.
But alas, we could not capture him. Nor did we see a leprechaun or his pot of gold. 
But just once, off in the distance I do believe that Charlie spotted one.
Anyway, I just dusted my Ginger Cake and have put my Brown Soda Bread in the oven. Later I will start my beef stew and freshly grind some coffee beans for tonight’s Irish coffee. And trust me, no Irishman worth his weight would be caught dead using anything but Jameson’s whiskey in their brew.But let me digress and embarrass my youngest Sweet Pea for a moment. When she was around four, I taught her a little Irish ditty. She had the brogue down perfect. I hope she still can.
Perchance she remembers?
Perchance she remembers?
Ahem!
Ahem!
Me mother has gone to church.
She told me not to play with you
because you're in the dirt.
It tisn't because you're dirty,
It tisn't because you're clean,
It's because you have the whooping cough
and eat margarine!
And, I give you my favorite poem by William Butler Yeats:
THE HOST OF THE AIR
O’Driscoll drove with a song
The wild duck and the drake
From the tall and the tufted reeds
Of the drear Hart Lake.
And he saw how the reeds grew dark
At the coming of night-tide,
And dreamed of the long dim hair
Of Bridget his bride.
He heard while he sang and dreamed
A piper piping away,
And never was piping so sad,
And never was piping so gay.
And he saw young men and young girls
Who danced on a level place,
And Bridget his bride among them,
With a sad and a gay face.
The dancers crowded about him
And many a sweet thing said,
And a young man brought him red wine
And a young girl white bread.
But Bridget drew him by the sleeve
Away from the merry bands,
To old men playing at cards
With a twinkling of ancient hands.
The bread and the wine had a doom,
For these were the host of the air;
He sat and played in a dream
Of her long dim hair.
He played with the merry old men
And thought not of evil chance,
Until one bore Bridget his bride
Away from the merry dance.
He bore her away in his arms,
The handsomest young man there,
And his neck and his breast and his arms
Were drowned in her long dim hair.
O'Driscoll scattered the cards
And out of his dream awoke:
Old men and young men and young girls
Were gone like a drifting smoke;
But he heard high up in the air
A piper piping away,
And never was piping so sad,
And never was piping so gay.
And it wouldn’t be St. Pat’s Day without a good laugh, so I give you a favorite Pat and Mike joke of hubby’s.
Pat met Mike outside church one morn with two blackened eyes.
“Pat,” asked Mike, “Whatever happened to your eyes?”
“Well,” say Pat, “You know the widow, Mrs. Murphy?”
“I do,” says Mike.
“Well,” says Pat, “She was in the pew in front of me, when we all raised and her dress stuck in her crack. Seeing her great need, I released it. And she put out me eye.”
“But Pat,” asked Mike, “Whatever happened to your other eye?”
“Oh,” says Pat, “Being the gentleman that I am, that happened when I put it back.”
So in closing, we will be watching The Quiet Man tonight (If you can find a copy of Maurice Walsh’s Quiet Man stories, you will get an understanding of the Irish). Over the weekend we will be watching Waking Ned Devine. If ever a movie proves that a ‘b*tch on wheels’ gets hers, this is the movie.
And I leave you with, The Parting Glass……
Of all the money e'er I had,
I spent it in good company.
And all the harm I've ever done,
Alas! it was to none but me.
And all I've done for want of wit
To mem'ry now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all
Oh, all the comrades e'er I had,
They're sorry for my going away,
And all the sweethearts e'er I had,
They'd wish me one more day to stay,
But since it falls unto my lot,
That I should go and you should not,
I gently rise and softly call,
Good night and joy be with you all.
If I had money enough to spend,
And leisure time to sit awhile,
There is a fair maid in this town,
That sorely has my heart beguiled.
Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips,
I own she has my heart in thrall,
Then fill to me the parting glass,
Good night and joy be with you all.
Slainte,
SF
SF
St. Seraphina was born in San Geminiano, Tuscany during the early part of the 13th century. She was said to be a very pretty girl with a generous nature. She would save half her dinner and give it to someone poor in town. After her father died, she helped her mother sew and spin to support themselves. She frequently made clothing for the poor. At a young age, she contracted a debilitating disease that left her limbs deformed, with any movement causing unbearable pain. She was confined for six years to lying on her side on a wooden plank. Left alone for long periods every day, she had few visitors because her open sores kept people away. After her mother died, a kind neighbor did look in on her from time to time. But mostly she was left to suffer alone. She was told that St. Gregory suffered from a similar affliction and she became devoted to him. It is said that he visited her in a dream and told her that her suffering would soon come to an end on his feast day, March 12. And as foretold, she passed away March 12, 1253. Many miracles claim to have occurred as she lay in state which led to her sainthood.
