“An Log Mór”, whispered the wind, its Gaelic breath rippling through the grass here in Lugmore. Strange, isn’t it, how a name in one language can sound so simple, yet in another, hold the weight of ages? Lugmore. In Irish, it means “The Big Hollow,” a name that might seem stark at first. But look around. This townland, Lugmore, isn’t just a dip in the landscape. It’s a vessel, holding centuries of stories. Imagine, if you will, the whisper of Bronze Age settlers, drawn here to the gentle slopes. They left behind more than just whispers, you know. They left a legacy etched in stone, a legacy that still stands on Lugmore Hill. A stone cist, they call it – a tomb older than the pyramids, a silent sentinel to a time long past. The very stones seem to vibrate with the echoes of ancient rites, of lives lived and lost on this land. Picture the flickering light of funeral pyres against the night sky, the murmur of prayers in a language long forgotten. Lugmore remembers. The big hollow holds the stories close, a silent testament to the enduring power of this place.
Saint John the Evangelist
Whispers of history echo from these stones. This is the site of Saint John the Evangelist. Once a vibrant church