On the afternoon of Saturday December 27th, a small convoy of cars threaded its way along the narrow, tree-lined tracks of the Borlin Valley, moving slowly deeper into the mountains.

BY TILLY ROBERTS

The sun was bright and low, sharpening every contour of land and stone.

At the core of the valley, Sean Cronin had opened up his home to the community.

Built by Sean himself, the house feels like a part of the landscape: firelight from a large stove, rough spruce planks arranged into benches, wide windows looking out onto the valley itself.

People arrived in growing numbers including some families who had lived here for generations, alongside newer arrivals like my husband and I who were ‘blow-ins’ to the area.

Soon every seat was taken, but people kept arriving. 120 people sat shoulder to shoulder, some standing, some sitting on the floor.

The occasion was a film screening hosted by William Bock, a member of the Hometree organisation and an artist part of its Dinnseanchas project. As the lights dimmed, the room fell silent and watchful.

‘Dinnseanchas’ is an Irish word meaning the lore and knowledge of a specific place. The film brought together the voices of farmers, artists and upland communities from the west of Ireland, looking at current issues like depopulation.

The project also highlighted the heritage and beauty of the people and land.

One artwork shown in the film centred on a red gate, once a familiar meeting point in rural life, which an artist temporarily placed in a carpark during a farming event. People stopped to lean and talk as they once did.

Before the screening William Bock, who has been working as an artist-in-residence in the Borlin Valley, introduced the project.

‘There is a wealth of knowledge in this room,’ said William, ‘from people who have worked the land for years, and from people who bring new knowledge from
outside.’

After the screening, I met Sean Cronin to ask why the evening was so important. His family has lived in Borlin for three generations, though he now divides his time between the valley and Cork city.

‘Was this kind of gathering a regular occurrence?’ I asked.

‘Not at all now, unfortunately,’ he said. ‘People used to meet in the shop in Coomhola or in the pub. Then they’d meet at Mass. But the shop is gone, there is no pub here, and Mass is becoming less frequent.’

‘Was there a specific moment that stood out to you?’

‘That we got together,’ he said simply. ‘It was the first time those people were all in the same room together. We need a thriving community before we can get tree planting and other
things going.’

Music, Sean told me, has always been part of that community. He remembered a man who used to walk over to his childhood home on wet days with a tin whistle and sit by the fire playing, ‘for himself as much as for us.’ On the night of the screening, musicians played again, and no one was shy to join in.

During the meeting plans for other gatherings began to circulate, including a walk in memory of young people who have lost their lives to suicide. Important connections were already being made.

Before hosting the screening, Sean had gone door-to-door through the valley to make sure everyone knew about it.

One of the challenges he has faced is how disconnected people in the valley have become, even when living close by.

He described travelling hours to an ecological event, only to discover over coffee that a woman from Coomhola, just down the road from him, had a native tree nursery.

‘I could have been struggling to grow trees and wasting my time,’ said Sean, ‘while someone was doing the same thing down the valley successfully.’

After the screening and a few hours of chat, we walked back out into the cold, following the mountain track away from the house.

Behind us, music and light spilled through the open door into the night. Up ahead, the last light of the sun set the sky on fire.

What had taken place in the Borlin Valley was not just a film screening, it was a new beginning for gathering and community.

The sun sets in the valley as 2025 came to a close. (Photos: Tilly Roberts)