I am not a believer in the need for utter happiness to be the default mood, perpetuated in the belief that without complete joy, everything else seems mundane. On the contrary, I feel that there is more fulfilling contentment to be secured from having overcome a struggle than being handed joy on a plate.
Perhaps there is truth in the belief that there should be three grand essentials to contentment in this life — something to do, something to love, and something to hope for. It is the latter that allows for the most possibilities and it is in this time of the year that I have always found it the strongest.
I have a zest for early Spring — something that I have probably taken with me from childhood. As a child in Mayo, I always had a great sense of the potential for hope that comes with the arrival of mid February. We had three wooden lake boats for fishing on Lough Mask, and every winter, they were upturned in our garden and allowed to hibernate against the harsh winds and rain while the fishing season remained shut. And then in late January, the boats would be turned again and the process of getting them ready for a new season would begin.
The old and weathered paint would be stripped off with scrapers and gas torches, gaps in the wood were filled with Isopon and putty. The ribs of the boat would be checked for cracks and if needed, new ribs would be created, heating them until they bent in a rubber pipe, and then bolted in with copper bolts and washers.
When it was all sanded down and washed, it would be time to apply three coats of thick gloss, normally blue, with a different colour picked every year for the top board. The seat knees would be varnished, the floorboards and oars put in place, and the engines, a three or four horsepower Seagull that you’d start with a knotted rope, would be geared up and ready for the lake.
With the lake fishing season almost upon us again dates wise, my thoughts this week went to those activities, but not so much for what they were, but for what they represented. For us, the boats on the lake would shape the excitement of the Spring, the summer, the autumn. With anglers coming far and wide for my late Dad to gilly them, to guide them to the best places to fish, to avoid the rocks, to advise them on flies such as Green Peters and the Golden Olives, dapping and trolling.
Painting the boats in February also represented a welcome few bob for the house in times that were far leaner than now. They represented exotic visitors to the house, friendly Germans, austere French, personable Swiss and of course many from the four corners of our nearest neighbours. When we painted those boats and made them ready, we did not know what lay ahead on the lakes each year. Whether they would bring camaraderie and joy, or tragedy and sadness?
But in February, they represented hope. This year, we have all lived through what has been a torrid month in Ireland. The country has known shock and sadness at deaths on the roads, deaths within families, and deaths at the hands of others. We have all felt a collective pain that quickly rid us of any New Year happiness vibes.
Now, with the sun setting a bit later, and the morning brightness sneaking in our windows a bit earlier, we can allow ourselves to emerge from the months of darkness and generate new hope that tomorrow might be the best day ever.
In a few weeks time, we will be marking the second anniversary of when lockdown began and our lives, both personal and professional, changed like never before. It is my hope that this watershed will allow us to begin anew, with the newfound appreciation of the simple things, so that we enjoy the rest of our lives in a different way.
Already COVID no longer hogs the headlines; the stories that pass as news are once again those which filled our pages and airwaves pre-pandemic. Even locally, the stories that have dominated the news this week, the ring road and the cycleway, are perceived in a different way to how they would have been more than two years ago.
In winter we plot and plan. In Spring, we move. Welcome back to a world emerging.
