We’re not quite wrapping the year up but we’re thinking about it. We’re squeezing the rest out of the sunshine, wrapping that luscious grass left to us into bales. Tidying up corners. The tractor has been serviced for the long winter nights of giving silage to the cows. An eye to the clock, we’ll have to milk earlier now, the light is disappearing fast. On our morning’s stroll, we see the swallows getting ready for their imminent departure, they could be swooping to the delight of an almost three year old’s squeals. The blackberries will not make it to the jam pot this year, they are smeared on the faces of two little boys in Kerry jerseys.
Neighbours are chatting on the roadside, Kerry has made it to the All Ireland football final this year and every aspect of their game needs dissecting. Could the Gooch be fit enough, would Galvin come out of retirement? September is all about possibility. And in the Autumn of a good year in farming, anything is possible. Breathe easy, a good crop of silage is saved twice now; you could even reseed a field. Walk tall amongst the cows, the year has done well by them. You have done well by your animals.
There’s talk that the weather will hold for the Listowel races where farmers meet for their yearly gathering to celebrate the harvest. Lucks in, there might be a trip to the Ploughing Championships up the country. In Kerry, while they dare not to hope, their county team will bring them to Dublin for the big match. And while the Cork native in me begrudges their place in the final, the Hearthill native drinks in the possiblilty that September brings. The possibility that the county team will just polish up an already good year. That Kerry might even deliver the beautiful football they are known for. The anticipation is palpable. Love them or hate them, they are the promise of majesty on the field and for a while in September, anything is possible.