There is a comfort in community, ritual, and celebration. It helps us feel rooted in a place. It helps define our sense of belonging. At home, we participate with our friends and family and take our place in the community. When we travel, we often find ourselves on the fringe of a community celebration.

In Iceland we were invited to an all night town celebration where neighborhoods competed in games, songs were sung, and the entire town spent the night sitting on a hillside enjoying 24 hours of daylight. It was a memorable experience. So when our farmer friend, invited us to an all day festival just a few miles from our rented farmhouse, we decided to visit. The Stonywoods festival lasted three days officially. But most of the events were held on a Sunday.

We got up early and visited Sean McDiarmada’s homesite. Sean was a local man (I am told he was related to my new friend) who took part in the Easter rising and was executed at Kilmainham Gaol. So in this part of Ireland, where the troubles are part of living memories, the McDiarmada cottage is a heritage site. Sean is a martyred legend with statues to ensure remembrance.

On the way to the cottage, we had to back down the one lane road to allow a large tractor to pass. They were on their way to town for church and apparently the tractor run that would occur shortly afterwards. At the McDiarmada cabin, we were greeted by sheep. The cabin wasn’t open. No matter. Music played softly inside and we walked the grounds with our wooly escorts. It was a peaceful place.

I thought about the farmer’s stories of bombs and destruction. I wondered about the price of freedom and why others will fight to oppress others. Is it greed? Power? Prejudice? But this was a festival day, so I put those heavy thoughts aside.

Back in town we saw lots of cars but no people. We stopped at the community center and found a lovely bake sale. There were volunteers but no shoppers. I bought Banoffee pie and soda bread. I also asked about the people.

The people, it turns out were all at the church. Family groups stood together beside the family grave sites waiting for the priest to bless the grave of their ancestors. It was something I had not seen before, but it evoked feelings of connection and family. It made me think of the power of remembrance and respect of elders. I thought of my own family and gave thanks. I spent some time inside the empty church to pray.

A stranger suggested that if we wanted food and drink that we may want to get to the local pub before the crowd moved from the church. So we found the corner pub and claimed a window seat. People began to stream in until you couldn’t walk due to the crowd. We somehow managed to grab steaming hot fish and chips and a beef burger in the chaos.

As I was finishing off my chips (fries), the pub owner came out and tossed us all out in the street. She wanted to watch the tractor run and she locked up the pub behind her. This meant we all had to go out and watch the tractor run. It seemed like every person in the county owned a tractor and drove them through Kiltyclogher. People cheered as they passed. They drove around the McDiarmada statue on the roundabout and then on down the highway. Apparently they had a several mile course through the country. Just when I thought it was over, the lead tractors were on their way back to more cheering.

There were endless tug o war contests held in the middle of the only road through town. Cars just had to wait until a break in the action. There was laughter. There was music. There was even a sheep auction. I wondered if any of these guys were my buddies from the farm.

Somehow in all the excitement, we missed our friend. He was looking for us and we were looking for him. But hours of onlooking in a cold misty rain made me crave the peat fire at home. Kiltyclogher was still in full festival mode, but we were ready for rest. I enjoyed my day. Communities coming together….that is something we need to see more often.