‘Mamma Mia! Here we go again’ … a taste of Greece by Tünde Szentesi at Bloom in the Phoenix Park (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2018)
Patrick Comerford
I have only become aware of the joys, delights and therapeutic value of a garden in recent years.
For many years, I could say quite bluntly that I do not do gardens … nor do I do garden centres.
Then, I found I was slowly changing my mind. I first went to the Botanic Gardens in Glasnevin to see the architectural engineering involved in building the Victorian glasshouses. I found myself enjoying a garden centre in Virginia, Co Cavan. And now I truly appreciate the work of kind parishioners who maintain the gardens at the Rectory in Askeaton, making it a place of solace, quiet, retreat, and a place to read and work quietly in these summer days.
I have been in Dublin for these two days for a hospital appointment and to see my GP, and quite by accident, through the kindness of a friend of a friend, I found myself at the opening day of the 12th annual Bloom, the gardening and food festival in the Phoenix Park, yesterday afternoon [31 May 2018].
This was a completely new experience for me, and one I had never planned intentionally.
Bloom was launched in 2007 to provide a showcase for garden plants, garden design, construction, horticulture and gardening as a hobby. It was based on similar successful formats such as the RHS Chelsea Flower Shows and RHS Hampton Court Palace shows.
Since then, Bloom has seen many highly creative garden designs and plant displays that have inspired and excited the public.
Bloom takes place in 70 acres in the heart of the Phoenix Park and is as much a food and drink show as it is a garden show. Food lovers meet top food and beverage producers, with insights into Ireland’s food industry, and sampling and buying the best of Irish food and drink.
‘The Sustainable Seafood Garden’ by Andrew Christopher Dunne … the overall winner at this year’s Bloom Festival (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2018)
This year’s overall winner at Bloom is ‘The Sustainable Seafood Garden’ by Andrew Christopher Dunne, who lives in the coastal fishing village of Clogherhead, Co Louth.
He has been creating high-end, exclusive gardens for almost 20 years, and who is one of Ireland’s foremost garden designers. His ‘Sustainable Seafood Garden’ tells the story of the journey from tide to table of Irish fish and seafood.
His garden features two piers, one traditional and one modern. Moored to one of these piers is ‘Sustainability,’ a fishing boat with a difference – it also doubles as a kitchen that is playing host to some of Ireland’s top seafood chefs, preparing sustainable seafood dishes.
‘Mamma Mia! Here we go again’ by Tünde Szentesi … and a 450-year-old olive tree (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2018)
Two other gardens that caught my imagination yesterday afternoon were one with a promise of Greece and one that challenges the Wall that separates many Palestinians on the West Bank from their own gardens.
The garden ‘Mamma Mia! Here we go again’ is the work of Tünde Szentesi, a Bloom multi-award winner who moved from Hungary to Ireland in 2006 to pursue a new career in gardening.
Her garden creates a scene in which visitors can get ready to sing and dance, laugh and love all over again in advance of Universal Picture’s release of Mamma Mia! Here we go again in cinemas next month [July 2018].
Tünde Szentesi has created a Greek-style garden inspired by ABBA songs. Her garden captures the exotic location of Kalokairi with its beautiful landscape and Greek architecture, including the famous Hotel Bella Donna.
She uses Greek architectural elements, including white stone walls, patios, blue painted wooden doors and windows, alongside a bougainvillea and vine pergola with olive trees, figs, potted red geraniums and aromatic herbs, so that visitors are transported into the magical world of Mamma Mia.
The olive tree in her garden is over 450 years old, and the garden made me wistful for my visit to Crete next week.
The Wall separating Palestinians from their gardens and olive groves … Barry Kavanagh’s ‘Garden for Trócaire’ (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2018)
Barry Kavanagh’s ‘Garden for Trócaire’ presents the plight of Defenders of Human Rights and the Environmental in Guatemala, Honduras, Zimbabwe and Palestine. It offers a platform for Trócaire to engage with visitors about its work with Human Rights Defenders and the fact that last year alone [2017], 188 people were killed while they defended their rights and the rights of others.
Barry Kavanagh is from Bailieborough, Co Cavan, and teaches horticulture and design with the Cavan-Monaghan Education Training Board. His garden is divided into four primary areas of geographical representation: Palestine, Guatemala, Zimbabwe and Ireland.
His garden includes art by Ciaran ‘Yohan’ Brennan, including a mural representing Trócaire’s work in Israel and Palestine and a sculpture of a young boy with scorched tree trunks as legs. A digital screen depicts people who have been killed lives while defending human rights and environmental rights.
‘Children of Lír’ by Brian O’Loughlin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2018)
In addition, the 2018 Bloom Sculpture in the Park garden installation offers visitors an opportunity to walk through and interact with some of the best of Irish outdoor art in a garden-style setting.
This section includes new and previously unseen works by over 40 leading Irish artists, including Orla De Brí, Stephanie Huss, Bob Quinn, Anna Campbell, Ray Delaney and Liam Butler.
Lupins at Bloom in the Phoenix Park (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2018)
01 June 2018
Celebrity clerics and
carousing bishops
meet in one new book
Patrick Comerford
I missed the recent launches of Life in the Church of Ireland 1600-1800, a new edition of a book by the late Robert Wyse Jackson, former Bishop of Limerick.
This enticing 250-page book, published in recent weeks by Ballinakella Press, Whitegate, Co Clare, is the result of painstaking research into the turbulent life of clergy and laity of the Church of Ireland during political upheavals, the influences of plantation and of ecclesiastical establishment. Robert Wyse Jackson, one-time lawyer, country priest and eventually Bishop of Limerick, had a deep understanding of both rural and urban life in the Church in the 17th and 18th century Ireland. In this book, he writes with confidence and uses contemporary quotations to present a true, amusing — even compulsive — read.
John Wyse Jackson, who runs the fascinating Zozimus bookshop and café in Gorey, Co Wexford, had invited me to write the introduction to this new book, which received an interesting notice in The Irish Times last Saturday [26 May 2018].
In my introduction to this book, I write:
Robert Wyse Jackson was a barrister before he was ordained and Dean of Cashel before he was returned to Limerick as the diocesan bishop. He is remembered half a century later for his humorous approach to history and as a raconteur. These experiences in their unique combination mark the very individual approach to his stories and vignettes in this book.
It is not all about priests and bishops, for he also introduces us to some curious preachers, parish clerks and churchwardens; nor is this solely a series of tales within the Church of Ireland, for he introduces us to a variety of ‘non-conformists,’ from Limerick Quakers to Cork Huguenots and Waterford Presbyterians.
Nor, is this all about men either: the letters of Mrs Delaney provide a taste of society life in Georgian Ireland, and the autobiography of Elizabeth Pilot is an introduction to the values that shaped an evangelical enthusiasm for mission, at home and abroad.
Of course, the Church of Ireland had more than its share of notorious clergy in the centuries we are looking at. Miler Magrath may have been picturesque, and his pluralism is smiled today, but the consequences were grave, and it was said that the ‘people in his dioceses scarcely knew if there was a God.’
Jackson is kind to the gaming and carousing prelates he introduces, and historians would be less willing to accept his judgment that Adam Loftus was ‘good and conscientious.’ But he admits that in the days of patronage and preferment, long before formalised theological education, many of these men were unsuited for their primary tasks in life of administering the sacraments, preaching the Gospel and providing pastoral care. An overwhelming number seldom took services, and even fewer celebrated the Holy Communion or performed Baptisms or were literate enough to pick their way through the pages and rubrics of the Book of Common Prayer, leaving their churches in a pitiful state of neglect.
When the celebrated William Bedell became provost of Trinity College Dublin in 1626, he found to his horror that Holy Communion had not been celebrated in the college chapel for 11 years. John Bramhall, Bishop of Derry, wrote with equal horror to the Bishop of London to complain that the altar in Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, was used as a ‘common seat for maidens and apprentices.’ But this is also the story of a church that suffered and survived the massacres of 1647 and suppression by Cromwell in the 1650s.
Later, we come across detailed accounts of the military roles of chaplains during the Jacobite or Williamite wars, and corrupt bishops such as Thomas Hacket of Down, who skilfully combined simony and forgery with almost continuous non-residence in London. Yet, here is a compellingly instructive image of a damaged Church making great efforts to pull itself together. This is the Restoration Church of Johan Bramhall and Jeremy Taylor, erudite church of William Bedell, Narcissus Marsh, Jonathan Swift and George Berkeley … and of Oliver Goldsmith’s parson.
Here are the tales of Devereux Spratt, captured by Algerian pirates and ransomed by Italian merchants; and of John Berridge, who remonstrated against the use of ‘omnipotence’ and ‘omniscience’ — pointing out wittingly, ‘if you had said that God was almighty and knew everything, they would have understood you.’
There are ‘entirely crazy divines’ like Frederick Lord Hervey, Bishop of Derry, who for 20 years startled Europe, and heretics such as Bishop Robert Clayton of Clogher, accused of Arianism and Unitarianism. But they are more than counterbalanced by conscientious figures such as the nonjurors Henry Dodwell and Bishop William Sheridan who preferred exile to betraying a solemn oath.
Jackson draws creatively from tales heard in his own diocese. Archdeacon John Brown, who was one of my predecessors in Rathkeale, was a conscientious archdeacon of Limerick, but equally conscientious as Rector of Rathkeale, where he also paid a curate £40 a year.
There are the visits to Limerick of George Whitefield and the Wesley brothers, and the rector who preached against Charles Wesley as ‘an impostor, incendiary and messenger of Satan.’ John Wesley’s work among the Palatines has left an indelible mark on life in Co Limerick, and, as the bishop notes, families with Palatine names and heritage ‘to this day form the backbone of the rural part of the Diocese of Limerick.’
These are the centuries of revival, and times when new churches and cathedrals were built, new libraries were founded and endowed. These are times that saw the 1798 Rising, the French invasion at Killala, and the Act of Union, and these were the experiences that prepared the Church of Ireland to survive Disestablishment too. As Bishop Jackson tells us, ‘For good or bad, these ponderous dignitaries were typical of an aspect of the Georgian Established Church in Ireland. As symptoms of an age that is past for ever they have their curious interest.’
Patrick Comerford
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