Off home soon

Isn't it funny, even at this stage of my life, with a house full of family, pets, books and yarn, a great job, mortgage and credit card debt, I still regard the place where my parents live as home?

I just booked a trip back to Ireland at the end of January, with my 3-year-old, to celebrate my sister's 30th birthday. My parents live near Sligo, a very beautiful part of the country. You can see what I mean here, here and here.

No wonder Yeats wrote so much about the place. The Lake Isle of Innisfree and the poem below are two of the only poems I can actually recite.

THE SONG OF WANDERING AENGUS
by: W.B. Yeats
I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;

And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

This is my 'nephew' Frodo, taking a walk in the very hazel wood where Yeats was inspired to write this poem.

Back to regularly-scheduled knitting-related issues tomorrow.