AN GRÁ – SLABHRA AN NÁDÚIR?

Ba ghann é an comhrá idir an bheirt d’ainneoin guthlusantacht na searmóine le linn Aifreann na maidne.  Bhí an Luan ag teacht – rang le múineadh aici siúd agus taighde ithreach le déanamh aige féin.  Ar a laghad san!

Shuíodar le chéile go luath san iar-nóin ar árdán traenach na Gaillimhe a bhí tréigthe, uaigneach.  Bhí an chéad traein go Bleá Cliath imithe cúpla nóiméad roimhe sin – thiocfadh an tarna traein i gceann cúpla uair a chloig.

“Féach,” ar sé,“ raghaimíd ar thuras bheag idir an dá linn.”

Ghlac siad sos i leathtaobh slándúil ar an mbóthar.  Shín Loch na Coiribe agus na céadta oileán inti amach rompu.  Níor shéid an ghaoth, ní raibh cor as an bhféar, bhí duilleoga na gcrann in a dtost, bhí an loch loinreach, gléineach agus ciúin.

An raibh siad go léir ina dtost ag faireach le h-eachtra éigin?.

Mhéadaigh tost suaimhneasach na maidne go raibh sé mar mór-bhrú iachallach, neamh-choitianta ar an bhfear óg!

“Áine,” ar sé,“ An bpósfaidh tú mé?”

Las a gnúis lách dála éirí na gréine maidin earraigh.  “Pósfaidh mé thú, dáiríre,” ar sise.

Ar an mbóthar abhaile dó agus ise ar an dtraein go Bleá Cliath, bhuail mearbhall aigne, do-thuigthe é ar chonas a chomh-aontaigh fórsaí an nádúir chun eisean a ghabháil agus brú do-chloíte a chur air chun glacadh le “slabhra’ an ghrá.”

Shroiseadar an stáisiún díreach in am do thuras deireannach an lae go bárr na sléibhe – Sliabh Etna.  Chruinnigh siad leis an scata cuairteoir.  Chuireadar an chéad trian den turas fúthu i ngluaisteáin talún agus na h-innill ar fiuchadh go tréan.  Bhí an bóithrín carraigeach agus líonta le deannach agus luaithreamhán so-ghluaiste an bholcáin.  Siúlóid aimhréidh charraigeach ar thréan-chlaonadh a bhí sa tarna trian.  Chruinnigh na cuairteoirí d’réir a chéile ag bun starr (muinéal) an bholcáin agus an t-allas ar sileadh go tiubh leo.  Shín an starr ar feadh 200 méadar go bárr na sléibhe ós a gceann amach rompu.  Dianchlaonadh mín, clúdaithe le luaithreamhán bog so-ghluaiste a bhí ann.  Fear sléibhe cruthanta a bhí sa Treoraí is gan oiread is deoir allais ar a éidean. 

Labhair sé, “An mian le h-éinne teacht liom go bárr na sléibhe – béal an bholcáin?”

Fuair sé crothadh diúltach chinn agus súil le talamh ó gach éinne – ach duine amháin!  Thug an fear óg aghaidh ar a bhean nua-phósta. Scaoil sí a lámh leis.  Chragáil sé leis an dTreoraí, sáite go lorgaí na gcos sa luaithreamhán so-ghluaiste, gan stad gan staonadh gur leag sé cos amháin ar bheol an bholcáin.  Chuir ioldathacht an dromchla inmheánach, an torann cumhachtach pléascúil agus na scamaill ghail is gháis a bhí dá scaoileadh go rialta, ionadh agus alltacht air.  Cuireadh buan-omós don nádúr ina luí go doimhin air!  Bhí ceirt cosanta ar aghaidh an Treoraí um an dtaca seo – bhí sé in am filleadh.  Ghlac sí a láimh i bhfháisceadh eadar-mhéarach.  Mhothaigh siad máistreacht, iolchruthach an nádúir ó Loch Coirib na Gaillimhe go Sliabh Etna na Sicile á nascadh le chéile le greim do-scaoilte!

Tuairim scór is deich mbliain in a dhiaidh sin phós mac leo gearrchaile gasta, gleoite i mBrooklyn, Nua Eabhrach gearrchaile a raibh dlúth-cheangailt clainne aici le iarthar na h-Éireann agus Sicil na h-Iodáile!  Níor mhaolaigh tionchur an nádúir riamh – ba leí agus is leí go síoraí “Slabhra an Ghrá.”

LOVE – A CHAIN OF NATURE?

Even the eloquence of the sermon at morning mass had failed to enhance the conversation between the couple.  Monday was next up - she had a class to teach and he had to continue with research activities in soil.  At least that!

They sat together on the lonely, deserted platform of the Galway train station.  The early afternoon train to Dublin had departed just a few minutes earlier – the next train was not due for a couple of hours yet.

He said, “Let’s go on a short journey in the meantime.”

The roads were virtually deserted.  They came to a halt in a sheltered lay-bye overlooking Lough Corrib with its hundreds of islands.  The breeze didn’t blow, the blades of grass were motionless, the tree leaves were silent and still and the expanse of water was smooth and crystal clear.  Were they all quietly anticipating an occasion?  The pressure of the peaceful stillness of the morning had swollen crescendo-like.  It was unbearable!

“Annette” he requested, “will you marry me?”

Her gentle countenance brightened like the rising sun on a spring morning.

“I will, certainly,” she replied.

On the road home and she on the train to Dublin he contemplated, lost for an explanation, as to how or why the forces of nature combined to leave him with no alternative but to accept the “chain of love.”

They arrived just in time to join the final group of visitors for the journey to the summit of the mountain – Mount Etna.  The land-rovers completed the first leg of the climb with radiators boiling.  The rocky one-way track also consisted of soft volcanic sand. The second leg consisted of a rugged, rocky climb on foot to the base of the volcanic neck.  Here, the visitors, now sweating profusely, finally assembled.  The neck, smooth and covered with yielding volcanic sand stretched steeply for about 200 metres to the main vent of the volcano. 

The Guide said, “Does anybody wish to climb to the top – to the mouth of the volcano?”

All shook their heads in refusal with downcast gaze – except one!  He faced his loved one.  She slowly released the grip on his hand.  With the Guide he trudged without stop, shin-deep through the yielding sand, until he rested one foot on the lip of the volcano. The multi-colored surface of its interior, the powerfully explosive noises and the repeated release of clouds of steam and gas inspired an everlasting sense of wonderment and respect.  The Guide was now protecting his breathing – it was time to return.  The young couple, hands clasped with fingers entwined, sensed that the pervasive influence of nature from Lough Corrib of Galway to Mount Etna of Sicily was somehow forming an unbreakable bond!

Just over thirty years later, one of their sons who had moved to New York married a wonderful, spirited lass from Brooklyn with deep family roots in western Ireland and Sicily!  Nature never released her grip – she had fashioned a “Chain of Love,” which needed neither lock nor key.