There is no shortage of literary talent in Macra na Feirme, and this was confirmed recently, as the winners of the Macra creative writing competition were announced.

Peter Farrell of East Laois Macra won the short story category with his piece After Milking, while Liam Cronin of Shannonside Macra won the poetry category with a piece titled Green Shoots. Both writers took inspiration from countryside settings for their work.

The winners will receive a voucher for an online writing course through the Irish Writers Centre.

The short story winner

After Milking

By Peter Farrell, East Laois Macra

The rain was lightly pattering against the window as the alarm sounded. John instinctively reached out to silence it, before closing his eyes again. A dangerous game. Despite the temptation to drift back to sleep, he gently rolled from bed a minute later, dressed and went to the kitchen. Two slices of buttery toast, a tea with two sugars and out the door.

He crossed the starlit yard to the shed, picked up his bike and silently set off about his business. Five minutes later he was down the gravel roadway to the paddock, where 70 impatient ladies were waiting. His arrival was greeted with little more than a petulant look, and as he opened the gap the cows made their way towards the yard. For them, it was just like any other day.

When he reached the parlour, behind the stragglers in the herd, John tried to settle into a routine. At first it was slow and cumbersome, but as he diligently milked the rows, he started to get the hang of things again. In the background, a politician was being grilled about something or other on the radio. The finer details were lost beneath the hum of the parlour, and the noises from his herd. John didn’t say a word. There was no one to say it too anyway.

When milking was over, the sun was up, shining palely across the countryside. It brought little warmth, but the light was better than the dark. The cows made their way back along the gravelly path to a fresh field, their burden lightened. John tidied up around the parlour, before returning to the house.

His mother was up. She almost smiled as she gestured to the range in the corner and said “I made some rashers, and there’s tea in the pot”.

On the radio, another politician was being asked something, and giving a typical politician’s answer. They sat, not listening to the radio, as he ate a hastily-constructed sandwich and drank another sugary tea. Plates of cake and curling sandwiches sat on the counter. Eventually, she broke the silence: “Have you much to do today?”

“Just the usual, really,” he replied, before adding he needed to go to town after lunch.

With that, he went outside and returned to the one thousand and one mundane tasks that go with life on a small farm. Dinner passed in much the same fashion, after which he took the keys of the jeep from where they had hung in place for the last five days, and went to the co-op. He badly needed to pick up a few bits, but was dreading the journey, and the inevitable small talk.

There were three other vehicles in the yard when he arrived at the small co-op on the edge of town. He recognised the two jeeps, both of which had seen better days, as belonging to neighbours who had also seen better days, but not the small van and trailer that was parked near the shed where bags of ration were kept.

He went inside to the shop, picked up his supplies and Andy on the desk greeted him warmly. He preferred that to the way people had usually been greeting him in the last few days, usually with an outstretched hand and a mixture of sadness and embarrassment. The chat was brief, and Andy smiled as he handed him the docket. “Mind yourself now John, and your mother,” he said. “Give me a shout if you need anything else.”

John walked back to the jeep, dropping off his purchases from indoors before loading several bags of coal and a bag of dog food into the back. As he closed the swinging back door, Tom Cuddihy was walking towards him. He vaguely remembered seeing him in recent days, but wasn’t sure when.

“Good to see you out and about again, John,” he said. “How’s your mother keeping?”

John lied and said she was OK, hoping to keep the conversation short as possible. He felt guilty for doing so, but he just wanted to return home, to where the only intrusion on his thoughts was the tinny sound from the radio or a cow who half-heartedly tried to kick his hand as he attached the clusters. Luckily, Tom seemed satisfied with this answer.

“Good. If there’s anything ye need at all, ye know where I am. Do ya have my number?”

John admitted that he didn’t, and awkwardly saved it into his phone as Tom called it out. With that, the interaction was over and he set off again for home.

When he was home, he unloaded his haul from the co-op and set off on his bicycle again. The cows seemed in better form this time, having enjoyed a relatively warm, relatively dry day at fresh grass. They trotted gingerly up towards the parlour, their loyal servant peddling slowly in their wake.

Afternoon milking was uneventful. Uneventful was good. When he got the parlour washed down, and himself cleaned up, he steeled himself before going back inside. The kitchen was empty, so he put the kettle on and sat down. He took his phone out, and noticed a message, letting him know the football lads were going for a game of five-a-side in town and saying he should join them, if he felt up to it. He contemplated it for a minute, the simple joy of attempting to string passes together on the dodgy astroturf surface, but ultimately decided that he didn’t. “Maybe next week, thanks,” he replied.

With no sign of his mother, he made a cup of tea rather than a pot. As he sat back down to drink it, with an assortment of slightly questionable sandwiches in his paw, she walked in the door from the hall.

“Typical, if I’d known you were coming down I’d have made the pot,” he said.

“Not to worry,” she replied as she sat down, “I’ve been drinking tea all day.”

Then another silence fell. With no radio to intrude on it, it lingered over the table like a great weight, drawing everything towards it. Eventually, it was broken.

“He’d be fierce proud of you, you know,” she said, and with that, they both cried bitter, bitter tears.

Poetry winner

Green shoots

By Liam Cronin, Shannonside Macra na Feirme

Upon this barren spring terrain

Where soil is deep and wet with rain

A single shoot doth spread its arms

And dreams of summer’s leafy charms.

The sky shall clear, and clouds abate

Our seedling grows in height and weight,

It stretches out to face the sun

And on its leaves a web is spun.

Towards the summer sky it stares

And rises with the heavens airs

Our seedling proud and full of hope

Is now a sapling, strong as rope.

Whilst in due time, the autumn calls

And in the hedgerows leaves do fall

Our little friend is firm at last

Now ready for the winter fast.

There’s beauty in a simple thing

Like little plants that grow in spring

And when you’re down and feeling low

Just watch the seedling as it grows.

There’s hope in such a simple show.

About the winners

Peter Farrell

Peter Farrell grew up on the family suckler farm in Ballyadams, Co Laois, and now lives in Dublin with his fiancée, Laura.

Having studied law in University College Dublin (and wishing he had chosen ag science instead) he went on to do a masters in journalism in Dublin City University and currently works for RTÉ News as an assistant editor working on the RTÉ News website, app and social media channels.

Peter has been a member of the East Laois Macra club for over 10 years and has spent much of that time trying in vain to win an All-Ireland senior debating title. He has twice been on the losing team in senior debating finals, in 2015 and 2017, and was also on the team that reached the 2020 final, which has not taken place yet due to the COVID-19 pandemic. He did manage to win an impromptu debating title in 2019, to make up for the other disappointment.

During his time in Macra, Peter also served as Laois county PRO for a few years, and was involved in the organising committee for the 2014 Macra Rally.

He is also an active member of his local GAA club, St Joseph’s, where he currently serves as secretary, and occasional player/manager for the junior C side. Each year, he says he is “going to go back training properly this year”.

Liam Cronin

From Feenagh, Co Limerick, Liam Cronin is a dairy farmer who works alongside his father.

Liam has been a member of Shannonside Macra for seven years and has been the club chair for the past two years.

Shannonside Macra was set up just over 10 years ago and covers the west Limerick area.

Before coming home to farm, Liam studied English and history in University College Cork and also lived in Cork for a year after completing his degree. He joined Macra after moving home and found it a very beneficial outlet for making friends in his local area.

Although he studied English at third level, Liam says the area of creative writing – particularly poetry – is a lot different. Having heard about the Macra creative writing competition, he had it in the back of his head to write a poem.

Poems, Liam feels, never come if you sit down to write one specifically and so his entry came to him spontaneously, initially being written on the back of an envelope.

Liam is of the opinion that competitions in Macra, particularly in the area of the arts, give people a chance to express themselves and show their creativity, which is in no shortage around the countryside.

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