Footing turf builds character
For the first time in over 15 years I found myself “footing” turf in the bog yesterday. Let me explain two things for you uncultured buffoons out there.
The Bog:
The bog is a place where Irish people have toiled for generations cutting pieces out of the ground which has built up over centuries and when burned makes incredibly good fuel. It is heavy work and we would have done this during our childhood years with our father.
Footing Turf:
This is a practice whereby you take the pieces of turf and stand them upright, creating a pyramid style structure to allow the turf to dry in readiness to be brought home to be used as fuel for the winter. This can only be done by hand and means bending at the waist for many hours on end. Now if this is something you are used to then great you should experience no morning after stiffness in your lower back and the back of your legs. If, however, bending over at the waist for five hours is something you do not find yourself doing regularly then by god the following day your back and legs will know all about it.
Yesterday I was reminded of what the bog taught us as children. Lying before you is a sea of turf lying wet and sodden like a fallen army on the ground. The only method of drying the turf sufficiently for it to be fit to be brought home and burned is to bend over and “foot” like a maniac. Yes, you want to transform pieces of turf strewn on the ground like litter after a major sports event in to a field of pyramids of “footed” turf beautifully built to allow the wind to whip through them and dry the booty of future fuel.
And it is here that the bog teaches you everything you will ever need to know about life. Yesterday my nine year old nephew came with us and he like his uncle many years ago was less than impressed by the magnitude of work that lay before him. “This is too hard, I can’t foot the turf, I don’t know how, I will probably be useless, can I go and sit in the car, we are not making any progress, look how much we have left to do” This is just a sample, but undoubtedly many of the thoughts that ran through his mind, the seemingly insurmountable challenge that lay strewn across the bog wilderness ahead of us, runs through many of our minds at several points in our adult lives.
In the bog there is no where to hide. You either get the turf to a stage where it can dry enough to be useful fuel during the winter or you leave it there and it decays back in to the earth from whence it came. It is that lesson of having to fight the boredom, the feeling of an insurmountable task and the stiffening up of your back and arse that builds your character. That tells you it will all be worth it when the warmth of a December night and a large turf fire fills your home. That delayed gratification- that you must (pardon the pun), put the fuel in the fire before you can enjoy the heat is one of the most important lessons we can teach ourselves and our children.
Yesterday was one small step for my nephew, one giant step for our turf harvest. Today I might have the stiff back and behind of an older man but the thought of those little pyramids of turf drying as you read this really does “warm” the heart.
We are open and welcome to volunteers joining us for our next sojourn in the bog. Applicants must have a strong back, bring with them high quality sandwiches and have a fondness for wind, rain, insurmountable challenges and a stiff back. Please reply to footin@onelastburst.com
