Christmas In Killarney

The Bing Crosby song blasted from the speakers in our bright green rental car, the Lucky Leprechaun. This has always been one of my favorite Christmas songs, but somehow listening to it while we were actually in Killarney, made it even more enjoyable. So enjoyable in fact, we may have played (and sang)the song on repeat for nearly the entire drive around the Ring of Kerry. The countryside was so beautiful and green, and in between hiking to old ruins, or exploring circle forts, or stone circles, we drove around and looked at farms. At a gas station one night, my husband was thrilled to find Ireland's version of the Fastline. It doesn't matter what part of the world we are in, it seems we always gravitate to the agricultural sector. Ireland was no different. Soon we found ourselves on “half” land roads, dodging sheep and tractors and eyeing with much interest the black-wrapped silage bales that dotted the countryside. About 10 years ago, in an attempt to salvage our last cutting of alfalfa. we purchased our first McHale round baler, which chopped and wrapped individual bales—creating what many people in the Valley refer to as “marshmallow bales.” It's been a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it means we can put up hay even into the snow—but on the other it means that we are still putting up hay even after it snows. One year we were still swathing and baling just a few days prior to Christmas. Our youngest son has loved the round baler all of his life. McHale was founded in the mid-1980s in the west of Ireland, so, when he learned we were going to Ireland—it wasn't the Blarney Stone on his bucket list. We put more than 2,000 miles on our Lucky Leprechaun, in a country that is 3.5 times smaller than the state of Oregon. Most of which were back roads checking our their farming operations. Several times we'd made unscheuled U-turns when we'd see a guy out feeding his cows, or once a farmer digging carrots. We were so fascinated by the sheep wandering down the road, or next to tourist attractions, one would have thought we'd never seen them before. While walking along the Cliffs of Moher, there was a rock wall on one side, and an electric fence 3 feet on the other, housing herds of sheep and cattle. Often to reach a particular abby or monastery ruin, we would have to walk through the neatest little turnstiles designed to let visitors in easily while preventing the animals from leaving their pasture that included hundred year old ruiins. The luck of the Irish obviously extends to their animals as well. My kids were born in a calf trough—while their calves are born in castles! But we tried to make up for it a bit by staying in several castles. One of rooms had 2 bathrooms, one was bigger than the living room in my house. It had a huge old-fashioned claw footed tub in the exact center of the room. What are a family of rednecks supposed to do without that—except climb in and take family photos. After all my grandmother used to say “the family that bathes together, 'staythes' together.” Too soon, we had to return the Lucky Leprechaun and head back to our own round baler, and sheep. But our adventure wasn't quite over. On the plane ride back to the States, one of the flight attendants had asked what had prompted our trip to Ireland. My husband told them it was our 20 year anniversary that day. Within the hour, they delivered us a gallon sized ziplock back full of all sorts of 1st class snacks, wine, and a note signed by the whole crew and both captains congratulating us on twenty years of marriage. It was a great way to finish off a year of celebrating. We hadn't been home 2 hours, before we started lambing, and within the week we had 2 bummer lambs. Guess we left the Luck of the Irish in the Lucky Leprachaun It's nice, you know, to kiss your beau, While cuddling under the mistletoe. I'm handing you no Blarney, a trip the likes I've never known twas Christmas in Killarney, with all of the folks at home.