Nature and Nurture

Continuing with reflections of the Irish nature, the Irish love the outdoors and nature. The roots of the love of nature go way back in time to the Druid era where Mother Earth was revered. Even with the advent of Christianity to Ireland the love of nature still remains.

I love walking outside in parks. Where I use to live there was a Wetlands preserve literally in my backyard. I spent many happy hours walking around. We have a beautiful park a couple of blocks from us that I walk in when the weather is nice. There are also a lot of old houses with mature gardens in our neighborhood that I love to look at. With the advent of Spring I want to get out with my digital camera and get some more pictures for my web site.

The other characteristic about the Irish that I love is their generosity of spirit. In Ireland it is bad luck not to be hospitable. I have always been taught to share and care for others. Bono was asked about his charity work and attributed it to "Irish Catholic guilt." He was being partly humorous but it is also a part of how we were brought up. We have been taught from childhood to be nurturers and to give of ourselves to help others in need. The reward is a feeling that can not be bought. Knowing that you have helped someone and made life a little better for them is more rewarding then any material gain. You can't put a price on real love.

The Irish have a strong sense of family which is good because their are so many of us. For me my family is my top priority in life. I have most of my things in storage because my Mom needs me here with her. There is no greater joy then hugging her and hearing her tell me that she loves me. That love is beyond price and as long as she is on this earth I will be at her side caring for her.

I've mentioned Irish humor before and we have in our household what has to be an Irish kitty. Pixie bounded into my room at 12:30 this morning and pounced on me in my bed. "I'll get that monster for you mom," she trilled as she pounced on my legs and feet. Sigh, "silly kitty those are my feet," I told her. "No there not," pounce, pounce. "Pixie, Uncle Mike's light is on why don't you see if he wants to play." "Okey dokey," and she bounds off the bed and runs next door. "Mom, Uncle Mike won't let me in, I'm going to see is Grandma wants to play," and away she bounds down those stairs. Mischievous Irish kitty all the way.

The picture is called By the Rising of the Moon.

The real counter is 4620.