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	<title>IrishCentral Irish Cultutre - b5cc3275d518416eacb61d676e8d84d1</title>
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			<link>http://www.irishcentral.com/story/roots/the_wests_awake/old-friend-and-beloved-blacksmith-passes-away-131324424.html</link>
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			<title>Old friend and beloved blacksmith passes away (IrishCentral)</title>
						<pubDate>Fri, 07 Oct 2011 07:00:14 PDT</pubDate>							<description><![CDATA[ <img src="http://media.irishcentral.com/images/200*162/20111101040332cormac-blacksmith.jpg" width="200" height="162" alt="" title="" border="0" /> <br /> Tom O'SullivanIt was an autumn afternoon in the seventies when I came around a sweep in the Clare road near the village of Ballinacally, the sun still shining low in the sky, and there by heavens was the living poem of a blacksmith at his anvil, the fire red, the anvil singing and  a spreading chestnut tree creating a yellowly whispering umbrella over the little roadside forge I stopped of course and had a chat with the blacksmithHis name was Tom O'Sullivan He was not the big brawny smith with sinewy arms defined in the classic poem <a href="http://www.irishcentral.com/story/roots/the_wests_awake/old-friend-and-beloved-blacksmith-passes-away-131324424.html">READ MORE</a> ]]></description>
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			<link>http://www.irishcentral.com/story/roots/the_wests_awake/a-self-inflicted-writing-ban-on-feathers-and-fur-130344818.html</link>
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			<title>A self-inflicted writing ban on feathers and fur (IrishCentral)</title>
						<pubDate>Thu, 22 Sep 2011 05:55:36 PDT</pubDate>							<description><![CDATA[ <img src="http://media.irishcentral.com/images/200*125/20111101040333cormac9.20.jpg" width="200" height="125" alt="" title="" border="0" /> <br /> Illustration by Caty BartholomewSometime between twilight yesterday and this windy Monday morning our swallows flew away to a warmer and brighter placeI think maybe they departed a week early, but who would blame them after the generally bad summer season?  There are glossy wise heads among them tooToday along the western coastline we are getting a backhand slap from one of your hurricanes The sky over the cottage and the Shannon has been swept clean of all birds, not just the swallows, branches are being snapped off the crowns of old trees, the country roads are covered with the first whispering clans of tinted autumnal leaves, the clouds high above have razor edges on them <a href="http://www.irishcentral.com/story/roots/the_wests_awake/a-self-inflicted-writing-ban-on-feathers-and-fur-130344818.html">READ MORE</a> ]]></description>
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