Returning to Ireland

Ireland at this time of the year remained true to form. In the north of Ireland the cottage snuggled between the mountains and ocean. The sheep across the road eating and bleating. Several days the weather turned blustery and the mist came over the mountains. The vent on the roof tapping noisily with the blast of the wind. Since the weather remained wet and cool the beach was lifeless except for James and I. We walked along the beach looking at the massive rocks coming up out of the sand. Then off to explore the caves. The tide totally left the bay and the kelp hung limply over the frames. The farmers in their boots harvested the kelp quickly.

Our next exploration we drove through the mountains on roads big enough for a cart and donkey. The grass growing up between the worn lanes. The wind blew gently today. As we explored further down the road we came to the end and the Atlantic Ocean. The waves splashed big against the rocks sending spray high into the air. The sheep and their tiny lambs nibbling the grass and bleating their sheep song. A memorial sat high on the cliff reminding us of lives lost on the rocky coast. A spiritual peace lay over the cliff and entwined with our spirits as we stood looking out at the Atlantic. Ireland a beautiful, stark and intimidating place.

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