A Kind-Of, Sort-Of Holiday

We visited the vast wilderness of the south-west last week. Travelled the long road down, down to the very tip-toe of Ireland. Next stop America. A magical place with ancient history still visible to naked eyes.

A place with higher mountains than our own Wicklow ones and rolling fog that envelopes you in a warm damp embrace. With rains that can change from soft and persistant to heavy and tempestuous in the blink of an eye, and as quickly again the clouds can blow high and away to reveal the glorious sun-soaked landscape of greens and lilacs and hedgerows filled with crimson flowers.

The sea of that place is bigger too. The wild and untamed Atlantic crashes onto hidden, sandy beaches where we hold tight to our little ones as they gaze in awe at its power.

Where we kept a sharp eye out for a glimpse of a friendly dolphin,
and held quiet yearnings to explore secret caves beyond the heaving water.

I was technically working there with the day-job, running a holiday for Irish speaking families, but managed to squeeze the little bits of my own family time in and around the events planned for other people. I am left with fond memories of the girls first sort-of summer-holiday. Next year we might stick around for a second week and have the place all to ourselves!

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