Last Thursday night, Tim and I drove into Cork city. Caity Nickeas from Australia was with us. Caity is the daughter of my first cousin, Juliann Bowe.

Caity’s grandad and my uncle, the late Dan Bowe, emigrated to Australia in the 1950s. He married Mary, who is now 93, and delights in her grandchildren coming to Ireland to connect with us. Caity has been travelling around Europe before she settles down to her working life as a speech pathologist. Her last leg was to spend a week with us to meet her Irish family relations.

We had tickets for the Triskel Arts Centre where Michael Harding, the Cavan author and storyteller was in conversation with PJ Coogan of 96FM. I had arranged for Caity to meet her second cousin, Áine Bowe, who is attending UCC. Áine would show Caity a bit of Cork’s student night life. We went our separate ways.

Michael and PJ were seated on stage to discuss Michael’s new book I Loved Him From The Day He Died. The title gave me pause. It is about connecting with his father who died in July 1976 and dealing with delayed grief.

I think it describes a lot of men’s relationships with their fathers. The man is aloof and often good with small children but the relationship gets stifled over time. There’s a check on emotion and a reluctance to touch. Then, when the father dies, the floodgates open and there is a realisation that love was probably there all the time – unexpressed with so much left unsaid.

I enjoyed the chat and I am enjoying reading the book.

The Northern Lights

While we were out, we had received several texts and pictures from Colm and Elaine about the spectacular views of the Northern Lights from Woodside.

The Aurora Borealis is created when charged particles from the sun, known as solar winds, collide with gases in the earth’s atmosphere. It is a natural phenomenon. All atmospheric conditions must align, including a cloud free sky for the lights to be visible.

When we turned in the drive, we could see a little collection of people, some in their pyjamas, out to view the spectacle. It had quietened down to a white show.

There will be more opportunities to view the Northern Lights. The phenomenon that is happening now will not occur again for eleven years

We went off to bed. At 12.30am I got a text from Elaine. “If you’re still awake, there’s more lights.” I stole out to a northern facing window. The shimmering stars shone through a curtain of red light. It morphed into a vibrant green as it fell behind the black silhouette of my garden shrubbery.

The top of a tree heather called ‘Alberts Gold’ was somehow singled out and illuminated. It was a plant that I never gave much attention to and here it was, the star of the evening.

There will be more opportunities to view the Northern Lights in the next few weeks. The phenomenon that is happening now will not occur again for eleven years.

Caity’s itinerary

Unfortunately, I had chemotherapy last week so I had to call in the troops to help with Caity’s itinerary. I was planning in the kitchen. Julie and Philip were listening. I was chatting to my first cousin, Catherine Power.

“Take her to the graveyard in Galmoy and show her the family graves. Then take her to the family home,” where Catherine herself grew up as did Caity’s grandfather and my late father, Phil.

Catherine asked if they’d walk the fields. I thought that was a beautiful earthy idea to walk in the footsteps of our ancestors. I’d be going too if the dates had fallen differently.

Onward, I went with the plans passing Caity among my first cousins, from Catherine to Marie O’Donnell, to Mary Kate Houlihan and back to Cork. My gang would pick up the end of the trip. Phew, it was done and I was ready to talk to those at the kitchen table.

“Mom,” says Philip, “when are we going on that tour?” Julie piped up, “I haven’t been on that tour either.” I have organised that tour for several of the Aussie cousins.

In fact, they probably know more about our family connections than my own crew do. So that’s something that will have to be put right.

I sat down with Caity before I headed to the hospital and drew a very rough family tree of the people she would meet. I hope she will remember her visit to us with fondness.