The sun is bright and cloud piercing; the wind wild and almost always at our backs, the road definitely rising to meet us. For those who remember Ireland, we spent two days in Sligo, and said hello to W B Yeats at his gravesite, where the air still moves from Peg O’Brien’s dance for him those years ago. Attended a village festival with story teller (by name of Paddy O’Brien), dancing in a pub, and music music music. And hiked to the top of Knock na rea to visit Queen Maeve’s Cairn; who could believe it! Peggy Dean and I were amazed at ourselves; then at the spa in our hotel we each had what they call a seaweed bath — hotter than believable — but no soreness or aches after the hike. So far on this journey into the West, we have seen one — one! — tourist. But the Irish are moving around and telling stories. It’s a time for joy and language.
Today we’re off to the Cliffs of Moher, John O’Donahue’s grave, a ride over the Burren, visit to Glenstal Abbey, and tomorrow time with an old and good friend, Shirley Ward. Then on to Tralee where the National Folk theatre is doing a production of the Children of Lyr.
What’s Happening Here is a trip into a fabled landscape, with gentle, wise friends, and vast happiness.
I send great love to each and all.