What an amazing day. When we awoke, the sun was already bright with promise. As the day progressed, the sun held, and the clouds, so famous in this land, were held at bay. By mid-afternoon, the temperature had climbed to the 70's, bidding everyone to play. We couldn't resist the invitation.
What an overload of the senses.
We drove far west, (actually Nora's dear husband BW) drove us from Cork to Inishannon to Clonakilty to Rosscarberry to Skibbereen to Mizen Head. Along the way we saw green fields, as smooth as glass, divided by those fabulous rock walls that divide crops, horses, cattle. We drove along narrow roads barely big enough for a single car, that seemed to be carved from walls of rock. In other places the roads were lined with hedgerows of fushia as tall as giant trees, so thick we couldn't see the sky.
We visited the Droumberg Stone Circle in Carberry, dating back to the Druid era. Having seen Stonehenge in England, this has the same feeling. As though the spirits of the people who lived and died in this place were still here, watching those of us who came to learn bout those who came before us.
We saw tide pools, some nothing more than mud, to those filling with sea water, and in the most western coast of Ireland, the most fantastic sight of the Atlantic rolling onto the shore in ever-widening circles as it rolled across the white beach where a few hardy souls waited in greeting.
At Mizen Head we watched the waves crash against the rocks as the mist slowly drifted inland, obliterating the view and turning the land to dense banks of fog.
In between we saw the greenest hills folding into one another, each one a deeper green than the other. And each one dotted with sheep and cattle, looking for all the world as though at any moment they might slip off the side of the hill and tumble into the sea.
We drove through small, tidy towns with houses painted pink, yellow, bright blue. And all with those wonderful gardens of roses, foxglove taller than me, and lovely pots bursting with color. What I loved best were those tall rock walls with doors here and there, painted the most vivid shades of red, purple, orange.
I've decided that the Irish love their lace curtains. Every house, from snug cottage frosted with ivy and moss, to modern house set on acres of lawn, have windows frosted with lace. And dogs and horses. There are as many of these as there are people in the sparsely populated areas. Those sleek hounds, Irish Wolfhounds, as well as tiny terriers and handsome thoroughbreds. And occasionally a shaggy pony off in a field, looking as wild as its ancestors.
The most amazing sight of all is the wild sea bursting upon the shore. In places it seems almost gentle. In other places it shows its true colors, crashing against the walls of rock that have withstood it for thousands of years.
What an amazing contrast of sights and sounds and colors.
And all of them so beautiful and so moving.
For this lass of Irish descent, who has heard of this magnificent island for a lifetime, this is truly a day to be hugged to the heart.
I'm not sure anything can top this.
But then, this is Ireland. Every day is a new beginning.
I can't wait for tomorrow.
Ruthiebabe
*Ruthiebabe & Tombabe are Ruth Ryan Langan and her dh, Tom. They have joined Nora & BW in Ireland; Ruthiebabe has agreed to share some of her adventures with us, too!
