Wild Ireland, rainy and rugged. A landscape that lends itself to fairy tales. The violence of the wind, sea, rain, cliffs. The warmth of the sun, the smiles of the people. The piercing green, greenness of the grass. Rolling, rolling hills. Cows. Idyllic.
Pouring and windy most of the morning. Poured the entire drive, but stopped when we arrived at the beacon. Sun poked out, casting bright light across the wild, bright, green grass. We climbed steep, slipping rocks to the top. Real, rugged, untameable Ireland. There was a small lighthouse across the water, atop an adjacent cliff. The waves crashed furiously. The views were breathtaking. I could have blown away.
We saw rainbows during each of our three days in Ireland. The magic wasn’t lost on us. Everything – timing, weather, stumblings, wanderings – was right.
Baltimore, Cork County of Ireland, November
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