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The Seamus Heaney museum is in Bellaghy, where he grew up. It celebrates the connection between his home turf and his poetry. When you enter the museum you get this little audio thingie that you can punch a number into and then hear Heaney read each poem. It’s a wonderful way to experience his poetry and fully appreciate his work.

I was taken by this plaque when I first entered.

I share with Heaney a love of and affinity for my surroundings here. I don’t, however, have the skill or the language to capture what it is I feel when I look at hills divided into neat fields or when I hear an Ulster brogue or when I walk along Belfast Lough. As with all the arts, my own lack of talent intensifies my appreciation of those who paint, write, sing, or dance.
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