We drove up to North Mayo today, through
one of the biggest blanket bogs that exists,
miles and miles of open space with mountains
in the distance, sun, fierce wind. On to
Downpatrick Head, on the cliffs above the
North Atlantic, spongy moss underfoot, and
again that wind, making cliff-edges teetery.
Climbed a wall and walked the ruins of
an abandoned demesne -- into stone-walled
rooms with disintegrating stone fireplaces
inhabited by trees and ancient ivy and sheep
and horses and thistles. We were the afternoon's
entertainment for a herd of cows.
And back home again, twisty road after twisty
narrow road. I am thankful to Paul for his