INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Deji Adesoye
Changming Yuan
Violeta Allmuca
Beppe Costa
Engjell I. Berisha
Narendra Kumar Arya
Akwu Sunday Victor
Michelle Bailat-Jones
Laszlo Slomovits
Stefania Battistella
Agron Shele
Lana Bella
Fahredin Shehu
Alan Britt
Silvia Scheibli
Shutta Crum
Running Cub
Alex Ferde
Irsa Ruci
Jennifer Burd
Paul B. Roth
Richard Gartee
Elisavietta Ritchie
Peycho Kanev
Helen Gyigya
Amit Parmessur
Sneha Subramanian Kanta
Robert Nisbet
Jeton Kelmendi
Duane Locke
Lyn Lifshin
Richard Lynch
Jean McNerney
Fred Wolven
Ann Arbor Review
is an independent
International Journal & ezine
Copyright (c) 2017
Francis Ferde
All rights revert back to each poet.
--editor / Southeastern Florida
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AAR history
note: in print 1967 - 1980. Irregular publications 1980 - 2004.
As ezine 2004 - present. Most of 48 years all together....
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staff:
Francis Ferde
Silver Grey Fox
Running Cub
Fred Wolven
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e-mail:
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REMEMBERING AUNT'S WALKING IN IRELAND
In the final couple decades of her life Aunt liked to
regale us
with accounts of her train vacation trip around the Isles with her
senior lady friends, but I believe she most enjoyed talking about
the several walking jaunts she made outside some villages in
Ireland. Having Irish ancestors and with some still alive in the
countryside, Aunt could hardly wait for opportunities
to spin
her tales of this journey about being in Ireland. I remember one
of the aspects she enjoyed was staying in Bed ‘n Breakfast inns
as they traveled around. She indicated that the owners of each
were so considerate and the inns though quaint were comfortable.
Though Aunt was not a drinker, nor were her travel
companions,
they sought out local pubs whenever possible for evening dinner.
And she indicated, true to tradition, such meals were all very fine.
The inns they stayed in were usually located on the village edges,
so several times in the early mornings following breakfast they
would venture out from them onto nearby walking paths,
and
from what Aunt recounted they may have resembled the legendary
English walking paths which Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy
wrote of many years past. One of the central things which Aunt
described included the many early spring flowers budding then.
Aunt, as she noted so had been her own mother, was
fascinated
by the young purple orchids and the native Bluebells as well as
the Primrose opening wide with their pale yellow on display.
Such memories are as vivid as viewing the wonderful beds of
Bluebells I saw around my Great Aunt’s home in Michigan
during the few opportunities I had to visit with family there.
Alex Ferde, Ireland
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