There are many sights in Kilkenny which raise a smile or lift the spirit; the castle lit up at night, Clara Church perched on its hill heralding the home straight at the end of a long journey, the snow-topped Blackstairs Mountains in the distance; but few can rival the joy elicited by the changing of the closing time on the sign inside the gates of Castle Park from 4.00pm to 4.30pm.
As the end of January approaches every year, we know the time change is coming but still it is greeted with whoops of delight as the end of the winter is confirmed in writing. Inside Castle Park, the snowdrops have already nodded in the direction of spring and brought a thrill to those who have sought them out but not until the time on the sign changes are passers-by on the road outside alerted to the good news. And it doesn’t stop there. After just four weeks of closing at 4.30pm, during which time we have welcomed the daffodils and their trumpets of light, the park opening time leaps to 5.30pm welcoming those who finish work before five o’clock as they arrive to squeeze in a bracing walk in the March wind before lock up.
Slowly but surely, the trees whose buds appeared in February, draw squeals of delight as they burst open to reveal the beginnings of their fresh, young leaves. More squeals of delight as the cherry blossom bursts forth against the grey of the castle walls. The beech, sycamore, hazel and the tardy ash begin to dress and look healthy again while underneath the shrubs begin to fill out. Noisy birds are looking for mates, building nests and telling each other tales of far-off warmer places.
April arrives and the park opens every morning, not at 9am but 8.30am; an extra half an hour of unsullied, morning air. (Early morning is also a good time for snatching ten minutes of uninterrupted swinging in the playground). The visitors to the park are now without scarves, hats, gloves and glowing noses; light jackets have replaced warm coats and the smell of freshly cut grass is in the air. Animals and birds are everywhere and the dogs being walked beg to go around the field just one more time before the new closing time of 6.30pm.
The 1st of May brings the holy grail; the time on the sign changes to 8.30pm. Summer is coming. Visitors increase and the first warm, breezy day brings a kite flyer whose brightly coloured offering joins the recently arrived swallows. Both swoop and dive above the hill overlooking the field which is just beginning to dry out.
Three months of long, warm days spent walking, running, hurling, playing football, rolling down the hill, picnicking, taking endless photographs, kissing, feeding the ducks and spotting squirrels finally comes to an end and on the 1st of September the closing time returns to 6.30pm. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like summer is over but within days the familiar uniforms of the schools of Kilkenny appear scattered throughout the park as school-children make the most of the last two hours before the park keeper blows his whistle.
In October, the opening time returns to 9am, the closing time is now 5.30pm and we’re back to rushing around before lock-up. The expanse of the woods’ deciduous trees begin to turn from many shades of green to a palette of browns, oranges and purples; one of the park’s annual, awe-inspiring views. The children are now wearing woolly hats above their glowing cheeks as they collect fallen conkers and it won’t be long before scarves and gloves are added.
November brings a closing time of 4.30pm, the wind picks up and crunchy leaves in brown, yellow and rust are strewn across the paths. The rain follows and the field where you walked barefoot in the summer is sodden. Tourists wear the raincoats they were advised to pack and plain and patterned, umbrellas pepper the park.
December brings holly and the grim news that the park will now close at 4pm. Darkness falls early and only the very organised among us will make it on time to complete a few turns before the whistle blows across the dusky, smoke-filled air. We don’t know what goes on amongst the trees and hedgerows on Christmas day in the park as this is the one day on which the gates remain closed. During the days that follow, the Christmas jumpers, hats, gloves and scarves are proudly ( or otherwise ) paraded up and down the paths and around the duck pond under the critical eyes of the non-hibernating grey squirrels.
Now it’s January. A long month. Time to batten down the hatches, snuggle up and stay cosy. The trees are standing naked and bare and there is no hiding place for anyone. The blackbird who likes to startle passers-by with his sudden flight through the undergrowth now has no cover. The cider-loving lads roam the 56 acres looking for a secluded drinking hole but none can be found.
Those who come to walk can savour the light of the few shining white-barked birches and the greens of the yew, the evergreen oak, the conifers and the noble Scots Pine comfort us through this bleak time as we walk and wait and look forward and remember the sights of the spring, the summer and the autumn.
And then, on the first of February, there it is. ‘This park will close at 4.30pm.’ Here we go.
