I hesitate to relate the following happenings due to their "begosh and begorrah" elements, but I will waive better judgement for the story's sake:

It occurred during an extended 1997 visit to a long-time music friend, the bosca-playing Stationmaster of the Ballymote Railway Station, Co Sligo. To grant my friend and family some relief from my presence, I accepted an invitation to briefly lodge with my friend's father (Frank) in nearby Ballina, Co Mayo.

One bright summer's day, Frank led me thru a wandering tour of the hungry bog country west of Ballina towards Belmullet. . The man is a prolific storyteller - making a delight of our rambling.

We made our progress west along an inland road, but made our way back by a coast road, stopping for a stretch at Céide Fields where some weather quickly blew in.   With the change we resolved to make straight for Ballina.

On the road home, the weather did offer a brief respite when I saw a sign - something like:      

<< Kilcommeian 2km

I asked, "Frank, isn't that my name in Irish?"   "Sure, it would be."
"Would you mind if we went down that road?" "There's nothing up that boreen but horseshite and muck." "We'll see where it leads anyway."

Momentarily we skirted past Killala Bay where Frank pointed: "There's the Church - Cummins Church with the roof gone."   The village itself seemed to be sparsely inhabited with many abandoned roofless cottages.

"I'll get a look around" "Don't go in that graveyard, Danny - there's no need for that."

"I'll make it a quick look around." While Frank uttered various fretful prayers near the gate, the wind and rain blew in again forcing a dash to the Cortina.

Our cloud was in a hurry. The sun emerged now at our back. That's when the show started. A miniature rainbow appeared linking two hillocks in the bank above the bay. The sun strengthened and the twin of the rainbow came into view.   Frank started whispering prayers. As for myself, I am not of that country and I had never seen such an intimate glow.   Glorious!

The show eased . Frank and I went down to have a look at the terminal points where the rainbows had rested.   To the left lay Saint Cumins Holy Well complete with instructions on how to coax a blessing from the well. (Three Paters, walk 'round three times, etc.)   On the right stood a Mass Rock - that's what we made of it - by virtue of the Pascal symbol carved into its face.

I suppose I had become an "insider" as far as Frank was concerned - his first tale on the course home started with: "Danny, do you know I once spoke to a man who had been dead for two years. I was crossing the road one morning…"

Regards,   Danny Cummins