Have a Beary Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Happy St. Patricks Day to Everyone!
I am cooking today so I have decided to post again the little story that I wrote last year for St. Patrick's. The story explains why there is a snake in these photos. The bear is our holiday bear and his photo is just for fun. One does have to play a little when there are so many potatoes to peel!

I have been terribly busy lately with things here at home and my volunteer work, but I am up on what has been happening politically. I have also been catching up on some reading (Slaughterhouse Five). After tonight's feast of corned beef, cabbage, potatoes and Irish coffee, I should be more than ready to write over the weekend. If you did not see my St. Patrick's Day story last year, I hope you enjoy it. I certainly had fun writing it while I cooked last year's scrumptious dinner.

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"A St. Patrick's Day Dream"

Last night I dreamed in green. Last night I dreamed about snakes. Last night an ancient Celt whispered in my ear, "they've got it all wrong, St. Patrick didn't drive the snakes from Ireland".

The story told me was this..............

You see, the snakes, being without legs and all, could not partake when the folk did those high-steppin' dances. The snakes suffered so, for they were spirited and admired those dances.

When the Irish gathered in pubs, to toast with mugs of ale, the snakes were left to hang their heads in the brew, for they lacked the arms for hoistin'. It got worse yet, whenever those snakes heard that song, "When Irish Eyes Are Smilin'". Try as they might with eyes set, one on one side, and the other on the other, no snake was ever known to get its eyes together enough to smile.

'Tis as plain as day where this tragic tale is headin'. With the strength of the Irish people livin' in their words, and their hearts and souls reaching to the Heavens in song, what were the snakes to do? Never were words so beautifullly and enchantingly spoken as when expressed by the Irish poets. When melodies were sung, never were the voices so pure and harmonious. The snakes, inspired by such lamentations and joyous musings, opened their mouths. They expected poetry, they expected melody, yet nothing but barely audible, raspy hisses were to be heard.

No creature has ever felt such humiliation. Nor has any creature tried so hard to be what it wasn't. Not only were the serpents heartbroken, but they turned green with envy. Such torn and suffering creatures could do naught but leave Ireland forever. One dark and moonless night they slithered away. It was not the sainted Patrick who drove the snakes from Ireland... it was SHAME!

The Irish whisperer in my dream had almost finished the tale of Erin's serpents but paused to ask, "Do you know where the descendents of those legless, armless, smileless, voiceless creatures are now?" "No", I answered softly. The whisperer continued on to tell me...

"They slithered out of Ireland and crossed the sea to the New World. There they joined creatures of a similair nature, and developed serpentine ways. There, they learned to sidewind, and there they sidewinded themselves all the way to the White House. That's where the sorry serpents are today, rulin' the world from their snakepit in Washington D.C. and St. Patrick had nothing to do with it!"

I awakened with new understanding. The Irish are lucky because they are rid of the snakes, and we Americans are unlucky because our government has become a sanctuary for vipers. Isn't it strange that the Irish don't celebrate their snakeless holiday, but we do? I still don't know why St. Patrick took credit for what the Irish people did just by being themselves. However, I wish you and yours A Happy St. Patrick's Day...... anyway.

............Erin go bragh...........
....Kitchen Window Woman....