Of Libraries and Ghosts and the Emerald Isle...a post for St Patrick's Day

So, tis the month of celebrating the wearin' of the green, and I have discovered a story, said

"Marsh's Library" photo by Tim Tregnza via Wikimedia Commons

to be true, of a haunted library in Dublin, Ireland. Wow. I've just mentioned three of my greatest imagination-tweakers in that one sentence: libraries, hauntings, and Ireland. So hang on to your green hats, pull up a chair, and have your cuppa (or pint) ready as I tell you the tale of

The Haunted Marsh Library

On St Patrick's Close in Dublin, Ireland, sits a beautiful, early eighteenth century library tucked in beside St Patrick's Cathedral. It is the oldest free public library in Ireland and looks, today, much as it has for the past three hundred years. It maintains its original atmosphere, complete with "cages"--small rooms in which one was locked inside to prevent theft of its more valuable books.

The library was founded by Archbishop Narcissus Marsh in 1707 on ground belonging to the House of St Sepulchre, then the Palace of the Archbishops of Dublin. It is noted in an official transcript as : 
"An Act passed 1707 for settling and preserving a Publick Library for ever, in the House for that purpose built by His Grace Narcissus now Lord Archbishop of Armagh, on part of the Ground belonging to the Archbishop of Dublin's Pallace, near to the City of Dublin.'"

"Archbishop Narcissus Marsh" by Unknown

Since the archbishop's passing in 1713, there have been consistent reports of a ghostly figure browsing the shelves of the Inner Gallery after hours, pulling out books, thumbing through them, and sometimes angrily flinging them down onto a nearby desk. By morning, however, all the books are neatly replaced in their original positions. So, who is this? The archbishop, perhaps, unhappy with the work of the current library staff? The story was first placed in print in 1914 in a book by St. John D. Seymour and Harry L. Neligan entitled True Irish Ghost Stories. I have placed its recording of the ghostly tale here for your "3Es" of the day (Education, Entertainment, and Enlightenment.)

--Marsh's library, that quaint, old-world repository of ponderous tomes, is reputed to be haunted by the ghost of its founder, Primate Narcissus Marsh. He is said to frequent the inner gallery, which contains what was formerly his own private library: he moves in and out among the cases, taking down books from the shelves, and occasionally throwing them down on the reader's desk as if in anger. However, he always leaves things in perfect order. The late Mr. —, who for some years lived in the librarian's rooms underneath, was a firm believer in this ghost, and said he frequently heard noises which could only be accounted for by the presence of a nocturnal visitor; the present tenant is more sceptical. The story goes that Marsh's niece eloped from

"Marsh's Library" by Tim Tregenza via Wikimedia Commons

the Palace, and was married in a tavern to the curate of Chapelizod. She is reported to have written a note consenting to the elopement, and to have then placed it in one of her uncle's books to which her lover had access, and where he found it. As a punishment for his lack of vigilance, the Archbishop is said to be condemned to hunt for the note until he find it—hence the ghost.--

If I am ever fortunate enough to visit that magical land of some of my ancestors, I will most certainly pay a visit to Marsh's Library. Perhaps I can find a way to procure an after-hours tour and accidentally become stranded overnight in the Inner Gallery. Ghost or no ghost, I can't imagine a better place in which to be locked inside. Better than a candy store!

Thanks for stopping by...y'all come back now.  And Happy St. Paddy's Day!

"Irish Soda Bread" baked and photographed by the author KL Wood

Kate

Caraway Seed Essential Oil...a nod to the Irish

"Caraway" photo by H. Zell , via Wikimedia Commons 

'Tis St. Patrick's Day week so I searched for an essential oil with an Irish connection and decided upon caraway seed. Although caraway seeds are actually an American addition to traditional Irish soda bread, caraway seed cake is indeed authentically Irish. Sometimes called "seedy cake," it is a lovely, gently sweet cake perfect for afternoon tea, especially spread with some wondrously creamy Irish butter. (I've included a recipe at the end of today's post.)

Caraway Seed essential oil has a sweet, spicy, mildly peppery fragrance. It can be dropped into an infuser for inhalation, bath water for soaking, carrier oil/ lotion/ or shampoo for massaging into the skin or scalp. The following are benefits widely

"Caraway Seeds" by Slick, via Wikimedia Commons

attributed to caraway seed oil:

Emotional Wellbeing-- its warming fragrance aids stress relief, mental strain, and emotional fatigue.

Respiratory Health-- acts as an expectorant and useful for coughs, bronchitis, and other respiratory ailments.

Skin and Hair-- as a tissue regenerator, it can help fight oily skin, clear acne, heal bruises and boils, and clean infected wounds. It also soothes itchy skin, as well as dandruff and other scalp problems.

Digestion-- helps relieve upset stomach, colic, and gastric spasms.

So, as if that isn't enough, toss some caraway seeds into a cake recipe and enjoy their unique texture and flavor. You might say you "can have your cake and eat it, too!" Thanks to edible-ireland.com for this culinary treat:

From Edible-Ireland.com

Caraway Seed Cake

adapted from Make, Bake, Love by Lilly Higgins

Serves 8 to 10

175 g (1 1/2 cups) self-raising flour
150 g (1 1/4 cups) caster sugar, plus extra to sprinkle
125 g (1/2 cup + 1 tablespoon) butter, softened
2 eggs
1 tablespoon caraway seeds

(If you’re worried that your batter looks too dry, add in 1 or 2 tablespoons of milk.)

Preheat the oven to 170°C (340°F). Grease and line a 1 lb loaf tin.

Cream the sugar and butter together, then add the eggs one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Add in the flour and mix just until smooth, taking care not to overmix, then fold in the caraway seeds. Pour the batter into the tin, level the top and sprinkle with sugar.

Bake for about 1 hour (check it after 50 minutes), or until risen and an inserted skewer comes out clean. Leave to rest in the tin for 5 minutes before turning out onto a wire rack to cool

"Rugby Union Flag of Ireland" [Public domain], via Wikimedia Common

Have a good couple weeks, dear Reader. Thanks for stopping by...y'all come back now! 

Sláinte!

Kate

(As always: this post is for information only and does not replace medical advice. Тest out an oil first by placing a small diluted amount on your arm as a patch test. In particular, those who are or could be pregnant should always refer to their physicians before using any essential oils.) 

When is a Seal not just a Seal?...when it's an Irish Selkie!

"Harbor Seal" Photograph by Terry Wood (my talented brother!)

 'Tis the month we celebrate all things Irish, and having a husband with Irish ancestry, I'm happily wearin' a lot of the green and baking up the Soda Bread. Ireland is a country aglow with wondrous legend and lore so I am happy to share an excerpt from my novel, Sea Snow--the gentle haunting of a 19th century lighthouse, in which a young Irish lad relates his story of the Selkie his family claims as part of its ancestry. Selkies are also known as Seal People, Silkies, and Kelpies-- those mysterious beings who are people in seal's clothing.

Excerpt from Sea Snow-- the gentle haunting of a 19th century lighthouse:

July 29, 1898

…“Now,” I said, settling myself in front of him at the table, “just what is a selkie?”

 “Well,” he began, wiping his milk mustache away with his blue cotton sleeve, “some folks say my great-great-great-grandma was a selkie and that’s why we have this color hair,” he said, running a hand through his shock of thick, black hair.

 “Your great-great-great-grandma was a seal?”

 “No, no,” he said, laughing and shaking his head at my ignorance, “a selkie—there’s a big difference, you know.”

"Seals on Ice" Photograph by Terry Wood

 “Nope, I don’t know. Please explain, Danny.”

 “This is what Auntie Kate told me—it seems my great-great-great-grandpa was comin’ home late one night after a long day fishin’. He’d just pulled his boat up on the beach behind a pile of rocks when he heard them.”

 Danny paused to dip his cookie into his milk and bite off the dripping half. He sat there contemplatively chewing awhile. I waited.

 “He crawled up over the rocks and saw a big group of seals squirmin’ their way onto the beach—except they weren’t seals at all, ‘cause, one by one, their black skins split clear down the back and out stepped a man or a woman. The men were big and well muscled and the women were the most beautiful creatures he’d ever seen, with long, black hair hangin’ down their bare backs. The moon was full that night and he could see everything, nearly plain as day. As each selkie left its skin, it ran and joined the others—laughin’ and dancin’ in the sand.

"The Selkie" Photograph by Kathryn Louise Wood

“He saw one step out of her seal skin that took his breath away—her skin was the color of moonlight and her eyes were as dark as the night sea. As soon as she danced off with the rest of the selkies, Grandpa dashed over to the empty skin and snatched it. He hid it in a sack in the bottom of his boat beneath his fishin’ net. Then, he went back and peeked over the rocks at the selkies. He stayed there all night, watchin’ and waitin’.

“Just before dawn, when the air grew stiff and cold, the selkies made their way back to the sea’s edge to find their skins. They slipped back into them and launched themselves into the tide—lookin’ for all the world like an ordinary bunch of seals…all except for one. She searched and searched, racin’, wild-like, around the beach as her friends quietly departed. When they’d all left and she stood there alone, tremblin’ with fright, Grandpa walked from behind the rocks with his coat in his hand.

“ ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said. ‘I’ll take care of you, now.’

 “She stared at him with those shiny, black eyes, the sun just beginnin’ to lighten the sky. He saw her heave a great sigh and her white shoulders lower. She knew what had happened and, like all selkies, she resigned herself to her fate. Grandpa placed his coat over her bare skin and led her to his house. They were wed the very next day and she became a quiet and obedient wife, blessin’ him with five children.

"By the Sea" Photograph by Kathryn Louise Wood

“One day, many years later, she was diggin’ in her vegetable garden when her hoe struck somethin’ hard. She scratched all the dirt away and found an iron chest beneath the ground. She pulled it up and pried it open to find her seal skin, her husband buried there so long ago. She dropped her hoe and ran down to the beach, clutchin’ the skin tightly to her breast. Her youngest child, a girl about ten years old at the time, saw her and chased after her. When the selkie reached the water’s edge, she threw off her clothes and wrapped the skin about her. By the time her daughter reached her, all that was left was her mother’s empty dress lyin’ there on the sand. Her seal mother dove into the sea before her eyes.

“ ‘Ma!’ she cried.

“The selkie raised her seal head above the waves and stared at the little girl a long time, then rolled into the sea. From then on a seal could be seen, from time to time, driftin’ just off shore, watchin’ the beach closely, especially when Grandpa or any of his children were down there. They say it was the selkie, keepin’ watch over her human family.”

Danny stopped and took a big gulp of milk.

“Oh, my,” I said, feeling a lump rise in my throat despite my rationality telling me it was just a fairy tale.

I went to the window and looked at the seal, still lolling on the rocks with Noah.

“If your seal’s a selkie, it would explain what I saw the other night,” Danny said through a mouthful of cookie crumbs.

“What do you mean,” I asked, turning back to him.

“Uncle Samuel and I were out moonlight fishin’, when I saw a woman standin’ out there on

Front Cover of Sea Snow by Kathryn Louise Wood

those rocks,” Danny said, rising and pointing toward the rocks near the dock.

“She had long, black hair and bare arms. I couldn’t tell if she had any clothes on ‘cause of the moon shadows. I pointed her out to Uncle Samuel and asked if it was the lady who lives at the lighthouse. He turned around and looked at her. First, he squinted his eyes and then they got real big, and his mouth dropped open.

“ ‘What is it, Uncle?’ I asked. ‘Who is she?’

“ ‘It’s nothin’, Danny,’ he said, ‘just shadows and moonlight, shadows and moonlight.’

 “And he turned us around and headed home even though we hadn’t caught any fish yet. I know there was a lady there and I know, now, it wasn’t you—so it must have been a selkie.”

Danny planted his elbows on the windowsill, chin resting in his hands.

“Perhaps you’re right, Danny,” I said, fighting hard to control my voice, “a selkie.” 

"My Irish Soda Bread" Baked and Photographed by Kathryn Louise Wood

Have a good couple weeks, dear Reader. Thanks for stopping by...y'all come back now! And Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Kate







(You can read more about my novel, 
Sea Snow, the gentle haunting of a 19th century lighthouse, at
http://seasnowhauntedlighthouse.com/)