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  • Writer's pictureLaura Grá

Blessington, the townland of Munfine The town of blessings seen through the eyes of a foreign

Updated: Jan 13, 2020

My initial consideration about Blessington, in county Wicklow, is built around its devotion to nature and its domination of spirit, preserving centuries of cultural memories.

My first encounter with this jewel of the land, called Munfine in Medieval times, opens its simple pluralities of past and present adventures in a tantalising symphony of intricate inheritances.

Once a borough, Blessington captured Time as an obliviate sequence of history seemingly destined to cozy little monotonies.

Initially, I felt its presence of self-validating ornament of civilisation in a small cup of peaceful reality. When I was intoduced to the town, I vibrated instantly like a sole protagonist of a coup de foudre experience and I recovered myself from the fear of losing the paternity of my homeland in an eternity of a second.

To honour the name it carries, Blessington creates a mental atmosphere of mystery and parochial joy. In the old town of Blessington, scenery caught my eye from the beginning, in a recurrent state of bewilderment , captivating my estranged soul with its prolonged and dramatic display of greenness.

Here, the trees have the vocation of beauty, a blessed duplicity of Life, being aggressively vigorous and yet faithful to the town of Blessington through its royal passivity.

They exhibit their own narcissistic nature in a self- conceited posture, mirroring in the dignified Blessington lake that turns their pride into a veil of still solitudes.

The mildness of the sky witnessing the shivering water of the lake, casts a controversial peacefulness of time over the town.

Blessington, dressed in a coat of green splendour reflects its natural architecture in an eternal story of secular happenings.

This blessed piece of land breathes through its inhabitants’ soul caught into a temple of desires and daily missions.

In their remarkable celebration of Life, the Blessingtonians are wonderfully attached to their emotional habitat. They walk in the luminous streets of hope, spreading smiles to everyone is eager to receive them, being subjected to their experimental interludes, turning into actors on the stage of life.

Blessingtonians’ contemporary dreams preserve the simplicity and gentleness of life in their geometry of love. They have a hearty appetite to confess their pure stories of joy and sadness with the singing heart in a true equation of miracle.

They have a well-rounded life and like sole diviners, they embrace those coming from distant lands with the nobility of a sunset, being able to foresee their future stories.

Prudent at first, their confidence in unknown people gets to maturity if they dare to offer the rightness of an ideal.

The people of Blessington definitely supplement their relevant life performances with the magnanimous art of love for the dear ones.

A genuine sense of family derived from a common sensical pattern of Godly faith generates an absorbent force of communion and morality that leads to the triumph of their existence.

People from this blessed town have a proverbial wisdom, an undeniable charm, a celestial care and an unmeasurable love for their little darlings, lifting all the burdens of the world for them, making their world lighter and serene.

The ones I know as unrivalled selfishness parents, born in a noble aura of generosity, create a fairyland of brightness and superbity, offering their children loud amusements, uncomplicated togetherness and a wide array of happy environments.

The grown ups and the little ones share the same passion for love as a statutory celebration of life itself . Their common denominator is God in a blessed form of a protector of light who emits a benign vibe over Blessington.

Blessington children are the first and the last bastion of the town’s beauty , imagining stories about their heroic interventions into the world. They all sing like seraphs, having a great sense of humour, not wasting the days with temporary sadnesses.

Being a Montessori teacher in this enchanted town made me witness the most peculiar and hilarious reactions from my students, true behavioural jewels.

My best remembrance about introducing St.Patrick’s story to the little ones brings me uplifting smiles: I explained to my students the shamrock’s Christian significance ( Father,Son and the Holy Ghost) and when I asked them the next day about this significance, one boy with illuminating eyes answered in a total grip of innocence : ”I know what shamrock means:Jesus and his family!”:):):).

In a whole amazement, every single day I’m falling in love with the Blessingtonians’ children who pursue the masterly skill of dragging abstractness of the world to their level.

People of Blessington never postpone their joy, displaying their charming life idiosyncrasies that draw me incidentally in this well-equipped universe of wonders.

Wonders are true symbols of the town; they linger in their solemn houses, in the wavering waters of the lake, on the graceful slopes of the hill, in the eternity of churches’ stained glass windows, in the flavoury coffee shops, in the cheerful noise of the pubs and ultimately in its people’s encompassing soul, like allegorical glimpses of universe.

The people of Blessington demonstrate an eternal abundance of the heart,in an armour of benevolence that encourages the traveller to stop for a while,enjoy the town’s marvels in a simple nucleus of countryside splendours.

Blessington with its imperial silence reveals itself like a discrete and demure lassie from the countryside who turns into a self-confident lady, by momentary miracles and its traditional fabric that constructs its human background.

This town presents itself as a depository of a historical memories of people who treasure the goodness of the Earth in their hearts.

Blessington seems to gather all God’s spiritual victuals and carries the eternity of time in its customary order.

The Blessingtonians’ spiritual matrix is beautifully linked to the long-lasting relief of hills lending their proudness and dignity to the town’s inhabitants.

They achieve greatness through their growing euphoria towards life, even if their lives are captured in a comfortable practice of ordinary.

The consistency of the Blessingtonians’ virtues is given by their quality of permanent worshippers of love and good faith.

They glorify the richness of the land as a divine commodity.

Only in Blessington, a local bard will sing Christmas carols in the pub, the passers-by will greet you in Irish, the strangers from the bus station will celebrate the lateness of the bus with a pint and St. Patrick who strolls in the Blessington’s streets on St.Patrick’s day lives in the same house with you.

It is Blessington where you expect to see naughty leprechauns around every corner in a mysterious mist of history.


I am honoured to be part of this blessed community as an unexpected guest who praises their daily glory.


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