Somewhere,
Under the Rainbow…
Rainbows are such a beautiful marvellous thing to behold. To
see a large rainbow over an open expanse of land or water is more beautiful
than any painting that any artist has ever managed to capture. In Ireland, and I
suspect elsewhere, it is said that a ‘crock of gold’ can be found at
the end of a rainbow but I never did believe that one......................
However,
to me as a young boy, a rainbow was
pure and simple - it was Magic. It remains so for me to this day because of
the beautiful memory it evokes..........
I was
seven years old, it being 1947,
and myself and two of my brothers, Gerard
and Jackie were on one of our memorable visits to Granny Gorman’s home
in the village in the centre of Ireland. It
was a fairytale land for a boy of that age and with the July weather sweltering there were many adventures to be had from
the crack of dawn to the setting of the sun.
Because of its position the sun
does not set there until about 11.30pm.at
that time of the year.
Granddad
Gorman, Ould Patsy as his wife Maggie used to call
him was between harvests. The wheat was not quite ready
for threshing, the sea trout had not yet begun their run upriver so catching
field mice in the wheat fields and likewise trying to catch a worthwhile trout
was out of the question.
I could
see that Granddad was getting as fidgety as were my brothers and
I. We sat outside the front half-door watching the world go by
– and slowly it was moving in
the village I can tell you.
“Right
you lazy bunch” Granny called “each of you get a bucket and away
down with you to the pump and get some water. I have some
washing to be done”. Ould Patsy stirred and tapped out his pipe on the mud grate outside
the door. I could see in the corner of my eye that Gerard and
Jackie were making a beeline up the lane towards the fields to avoid helping.
Granddad
and I got the buckets and began the short walk up the village
street. We had not got more than twenty yards when the heavens
opened. It was one of those summer showers that all too often
beat down on you in Ireland with no
warning. It was torrential as we stood under Mr. Doyle’s tree for shelter.
Granddad
looked at the sky and said “Now
look Mick, you see the way them swallows are skimming around the sky in the
rain. Well that means that it should rain for at least
half-an-hour. Come with me”. With
that we about turned and with the empty buckets we crossed the road to the old
schoolhouse opposite. Without saying a word he took the
buckets and placed them under the downpipes. As we stood
in the doorway Mrs. Doyle arrived with her buckets. When she
saw us and our buckets she exclaimed “Bad
cess to you Patsy. Do me a favour, when yours are full put
these two of mine under”. She then ran back across
the road with her apron over her head.
“Why
didn’t we get the water from the pump Granddad?” I
asked. “Sure
now Mick, wouldn’t that be a total waste of energy let alone a waste of God’s
gift” he replied. I still thought that it was
just laziness but years later I found out that it was the softest water for
washing clothes and indeed Granny’s hair. She too, often
did the same thing with the downpipes.
The
buckets filled up in no time at all and Granddad replaced ours with Mrs.
Doyle’s. We carried them across to Granny and made out way
outside the front door once more. “She’s nearly stopped raining
Mick” he said as he smiled “come on and I’ll take you to my secret mushroom field –
make sure you keep it a secret between just you and me, o.k.?” With
that he took a bowl from the kitchen and we made our way down the road away
from the village.
When we
came to a gate about a mile from the village, Granddad put his index finger to
his lips and whispered “Quietly
now, this is the Triangle Field and it has always been magical”. I
believed him of course.
He
climbed over the gate while I got in between the trestles of
wood. Immediately I could see spread out in front of us,
and there must have been hundreds, small button mushrooms. “Only take
the ones from well away from the hedgerow Mick” Granddad said
quietly “the ones near
to it are for the fairies and we don’t want to upset them, do
we?” I don’t know whether he was asking me or
telling me but I made no reply..
There
was still a trace of rain in the air and suddenly and majestically, one of the
brightest rainbows I have ever seen appeared some distance
away. “Be
Japers Mick” Granddad exclaimed with excitement when he saw
it “but our luck could
be in and if we are quick we might find the treasure at the end of it”.
Now, I
might have been seven years old, but I was beginning to think that Granddad was
‘having me on’ and
that most if not all his stories were white lies, nothing serious and not
really a sin.
However,
I was not prepared for the shock when he put down the bowl of mushrooms and
began to run at speed towards the distant corner of the
field. I doubt if I had ever seen him move so fast before in
my young life. I dropped the mushrooms from my hands and took
off in hot pursuit. “Come
on, come on” he called to me.
When he
reached the hedgerow he stopped and called me again to hurry up. I
was breathless and could clearly see the excitement in his
face. He looked thirty years younger than he had half an
hour before. As we looked at the hedgerow I could see that
there was no possible way through it. Granddad just looked to
his left, then his right and indicated to me to follow. About
fifty yards away he got down onto his knees and began crawling into the
hedge. He beckoned for
me to follow.
It was
in fact quite easy with plenty of room for me at least. As we
got out the other side the sun had come out again and was splitting the
heavens. The rainbow was no longer
visible. “Bad
cess to it” Granddad exclaimed and I noticed that he once
again looked his true age. He
also looked quite sad.
“What’s
the matter Granddad?” I asked
him. It was then that I noticed the tears in his
eyes. “What’s
wrong Granddad” I implored as I was now getting a little
frightened. “You see that spot over there under
the oak tree Mick?” he pointed towards a solitary tree in the
distance. “’Twas
there that I found the treasure under the rainbow all those years ago” he
whispered. “Awe
go on now Granddad” I nervously laughed “sure you must be joking”.
He
suddenly stood upright and the years seemed to roll off his
shoulders. I could see that he had been a fine build of a man
many years earlier and he truly looked a fine specimen right at that
moment. “No
Mick, honestly, ‘twas there at that very spot that I found the treasure of my
life forty seven years ago this May” his voice was so low and
trembling that I could hardly hear him.
I
decided to humour him in a sense “So
what did you spend all the gold on Granddad?” I
asked. He looked me straight in the eyes and said quite
firmly “Mick, always
remember this. Gold and money are all very nice in this world
but it is not true treasure. The treasure I found that
day over under that tree was none other than your
Granny. We were married six weeks later”.
We left
the field without another single word being spoken between us and I fully
understood what he meant even though I was only seven............................
For you
see, I also loved Granny Gorman every bit as much as did Ould Patsy……
---------Mike---------
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