ON THE WRITE PATH: travel journal for Around-the-World in 2015, 16, 18. |
Ramblings while looking at pictures taken in Dingle, Ireland, June 2nd and 3rd, 2015. The stone B&B stands solid over the once rambling brook. Chimney pots bricked. White houses huddle around the green base of hills. A road rising to meet it. Bright walls of purple, red, yellow, blue—joined to each other like odd shaped beads—strung along an old sheep path, now paved. Bleats dotting a patch of sunlit pasture hemmed by grey stone walls. A modern wall of stone with rhymes and peepholes one peers into. Stained glass. The Meadow Ditch adorns itself with dyed woolies and one cow. A memorial to the mascot of the bay: Funghi the dolphin. Trashed wedged between loose stones, replete with spider webs. Plants clinging to cracks, secure enough to send up spikes of waxy bells. Planted tombstones neglected. How shafts of light beckon one to climb, passing history along the way. Cottage of seaglass-for-sale. Best directions: Where is Dick Macks? —Opposite the church. Where is the church? —Opposite Dick Macks. Haberdashery and goldsmith. Stoned in arches; moonshine glistening on wet pavement. Taste of fish and mushy peas; smell of tomato-fennel bread. Muttering "If it weren't for the famine I'd swear they left because of the weather". I can't get warm. One leaves the soft green hills, the clear blue waters, boats resting in the bay. And enters the fells again. © Kåre Enga [16.march.2017] |