Posts Tagged ‘Ireland’

shoes book harvard yard

(It’s not quite warm enough to lounge in Harvard Yard with a book. But it will be soon!)

I Don’t Care if We Never Get Back: 30 Games in 30 Days on the Best Worst Baseball Road Trip Ever, Ben Blatt and Eric Brewster
The subtitle says it all. Two best friends – one baseball nut and one baseball hater – embark on an epic (some would say completely insane) cross-country baseball road trip. Wryly funny (if repetitive at times). Recommended for baseball fanatics. To review for Shelf Awareness (out May 6).

Fingal O’Reilly, Irish Doctor, Patrick Taylor
A fun installment in Taylor’s Irish Country Doctor series, with all the usual colorful characters in the village of Ballybucklebo. I missed Barry, the young doctor who usually works with O’Reilly, but this was good comfort reading.

Manage Your Day-to-Day: Build Your Routine, Find Your Focus, and Sharpen Your Creative Mind, ed. Jocelyn K. Glei
This short book is packed with productivity tips from 20 authors. Further inspiration to create a schedule for myself and work on blocking out distractions. Recommended by Anne.

Scarlet, Marissa Meyer
This sequel to Cinder follows Cinder’s escape from prison but focuses more on Scarlet, a French farm girl on a search for her missing grandmother (accompanied by Wolf, an enigmatic street fighter). The storylines intertwine in surprising ways. Much darker and more exciting than Cinder. I can’t wait to read Cress (book 3).

Death in a Strange Country, Donna Leon
Commissario Guido Brunetti investigates the death of a young American sergeant stationed near Venice. Brunetti is likable and thoughtful, but the plot of this mystery dragged, and the ending was downright unsatisfying.

Catching Air, Sarah Pekkanen
I devoured this book in a day. Pekkanen tells a warm, relatable (but not predictable) story of two couples who move to Vermont to run a B&B. The men are brothers with a troubled history, but the story belongs to the women, who are each dealing with big questions about children, vocation and love. To review for Shelf Awareness (out May 6).

On Writing Well: The Classic Guide to Writing Nonfiction, William Zinsser
I’ve been meaning to read this book forever. Zinsser’s practical, witty guide is packed with useful advice for journalists, memoirists and business writers – anyone who wants to (or has to) write nonfiction.

Links (not affiliate links) are to my favorite local bookstore, Brookline Booksmith.

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April is National Poetry Month, so I’ll be sharing poetry on Fridays here this month (and more often if I can’t help myself).

First up: one of my favorite poems from Seamus Heaney, whose words I discovered in a college course on Irish literature.

inishmor aran islands


And some time make the time to drive out west
Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore,
In September or October, when the wind
And the light are working off each other
So that the ocean on one side is wild
With foam and glitter, and inland among stones
The surface of a slate-grey lake is lit
By the earthed lightning of a flock of swans,
Their feathers roughed and ruffling, white on white,
Their fully grown headstrong-looking heads
Tucked or cresting or busy underwater.
Useless to think you’ll park and capture it
More thoroughly. You are neither here nor there,
A hurry through which known and strange things pass
As big soft buffetings come at the car sideways
And catch the heart off guard and blow it open.

That last line is a perfect evocation of what poetry should do. And this whole poem – its images, its Irishness, its use of simple words to convey a deep truth – is vintage Heaney.

(Photo from my trip to the Aran Islands in 2007, which caught my heart off guard and blew it open.)

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inishmor view 3

I grew up on the plains of West Texas, under vast skies that blaze orange and golden at sunset, stretching high and blue above during the day. Those plains stretch for hundreds of miles, the view broken up only by spindly telephone poles and by curving pump jacks rocking rhythmically up and down. I am used to landscapes that make me feel small.

As a native of that dry land, though, I have little experience with bodies of water bigger than a lake or a backyard swimming pool. My first views of oceans were mostly of the bird’s-eye variety: I had flown back and forth over the Atlantic Ocean half a dozen times before I found myself standing on the edge of it.

It was a bright, blustery day in September, during the year I spent studying for my master’s degree in Oxford, England. A lifelong friend of mine was spending the semester in Galway, Ireland, and I flew out to visit him for the weekend. The day after I arrived, we boarded a ferry to Inis Mór, the largest of the three Aran Islands.

Dotted with weathered, picturesque cottages and crisscrossed with ancient stone walls, the Aran Islands – Inis Mór, Inis Meáin and Inis Oírr – float in the mouth of Galway Bay, just a few miles off the western coast of Ireland. Sparsely populated, they attract a steady stream of tourists but still remain green and quiet. We checked into our hostel, then rented bikes and rode all around Inis Mór, stopping to pick blackberries by the side of the road and occasionally pulling aside to let a horse-drawn cart pass.

Eventually, we found our way to Dún Aonghasa, a ruined, tumbled pile of stones that crowns the island’s highest hill. The tiny visitors’ center gave us an idea of the structure’s previous life as a fort, used by the islanders to protect themselves from invaders approaching from the west. We made our way out into the sunshine, eager to see the ruins and the view for ourselves.

I’m over at TRIAD magazine (run by my friend Kristin) today, writing about my experience on the Aran Islands. I’d love it if you’d click over there to read the rest of my essay.

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march books 2

Bunker Hill: A City, a Siege, a Revolution, Nathaniel Philbrick
Since moving to Boston, I love reading about it and its history. This account of the British occupation of Boston, the mustering of the ragtag colonial army, the battle of Bunker Hill, and the evacuation of the redcoats, was fascinating. Philbrick focuses on Dr. Joseph Warren, friend of Paul Revere and leader of the patriot movement, as well as Samuel Adams and other colonial leaders. He traces the events leading up to Bunker Hill and the later fight on Dorchester Heights, complete with maps and interesting asides. To review for Shelf Awareness (out April 30).

An Irish Country Wedding, Patrick Taylor
I love this series following the adventures of Drs. Fingal O’Reilly and Barry Laverty in Ballybucklebo, County Down, Northern Ireland, in the 1960s. This book features O’Reilly’s long-awaited wedding to the sweetheart of his youth, but first the doctors must solve several problems. Their indispensable housekeeper falls ill; a young couple seeks advice on buying their first house; Barry begins dating a pretty schoolteacher; and the crooked town councillor, O’Reilly’s nemesis, is scheming again. Great fun.

Writings from the New Yorker 1927-1976, E.B. White (ed. Rebecca Dale)
I love E.B. White (as you may have noticed): his keen observations and quiet wisdom, so perfectly rendered. This collection of short, witty pieces from his many years at The New Yorker was delightful, instructive, hilarious and occasionally profound. Wonderful for dipping into or reading straight through (if, like me, you can’t get enough).

44 Scotland Street, Alexander McCall Smith
I like McCall Smith’s mystery series about the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency in Botswana, and picked this novel up for my book club. It follows the loosely connected lives of half a dozen people who live at the titular address in Edinburgh. Some of the characters are likable, some not, but it’s fascinating to watch their paths crisscross and see how they all perceive one another. And since I’ve visited Edinburgh, it was fun to travel there again.

Bread & Wine: A Love Letter to Life Around the Table with Recipes, Shauna Niequist
I love Shauna’s blog and her two previous books, Cold Tangerines and Bittersweet. She writes with warmth and honesty about food (and our complicated relationship to it), the craziness of working and traveling and raising two little boys, finding time to build friendships as a grown-up, and memories of places she loves (her parents’ lake house, Chicago, Paris). This book made me nod in recognition, chuckle, and wipe my eyes – and I’ve already made three of the recipes. To review for Shelf Awareness (out April 9).

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Listening for Madeleine: A Portrait of Madeleine L’Engle in Many Voices, Leonard S. Marcus
I wrote my master’s thesis on Madeleine’s memoirs, with nods to A Wrinkle in Time and its sequels. So I found this collection of 50 interviews, with Madeleine’s family, colleagues, students and friends, fascinating. Some people praise her to the skies, while others seem determined to prove she had feet of clay. While Madeleine was wise and brilliant, she was no saint: she could be stubborn and demanding. Recommended for fellow L’Engle fans.

Excellent Women, Barbara Pym
Mildred Lathbury, thirtyish English spinster, meets her new neighbors (a rather eccentric, glamorous couple) and gets drawn into their marital troubles. Meanwhile, she provides comfort, a listening ear and cups of tea to various friends (all of whom assume she has “nothing better to do” since she’s single). Some amusing moments, but overall I found the story rather dull. Set in the same era as Miss Read’s tales, but not nearly as much fun.

The Not-So-Star-Spangled Life of Sunita Sen, Mitali Perkins
When Sunita’s grandparents come to visit from India, she struggles to reconcile her family’s traditional roots with her modern, California teenage life. (Mitali is herself an Indian transplant to the U.S.) I loved Sunita’s wise grandfather, Dadu, and her straight-talking best friend Liz, though Sunita came off a bit bratty sometimes. A sweet, thoughtful exploration of feeling caught between two cultures.

Renegade Magic, Stephanie Burgis
Kat Stephenson, 12-year-old Regency-era magical Guardian, returns. After Kat’s enemy Lady Fotherington nearly ruins her oldest sister’s wedding, Kat’s stepmother packs the family off to Bath, hoping to find a fiance for Kat’s other sister before any scandal can leak out. But Kat senses “wild magic” in the air around the Baths, and both her new friend Lucy and her foolish brother Charles get caught up in a dangerous game. I like Kat’s spunk, though her magic is not very well explained. Still an enjoyable story. (Second in a trilogy.)

The House on Willow Street, Cathy Kelly
In the tiny Irish town of Avalon, four women – sisters Tess and Suki, postmistress Danae, and Danae’s niece Mara – help one another navigate personal crossroads. Tess’ marriage and antique shop are both struggling; Suki is fleeing a dirt-digging biographer; Mara is healing from a broken heart and Danae wonders if it’s time to tell the secret she’s kept for 18 years. A heartwarming story with charming small-town characters – cozy and hopeful. To review for Shelf Awareness (out Jan. 8).

On the Map: A Mind-Expanding Exploration of the Way the World Looks, Simon Garfield
I love maps, and I found Garfield’s book utterly fascinating. He covers ancient maps (as much theology as geography), the age of exploration, the American Civil War, polar voyages, traveling by map in the movies (from Casablanca to The Muppets), GPS, guidebooks, even mapping the brain. Crammed with interesting facts, but written in a witty, compelling style. Garfield also muses on how maps reflect our perceptions of ourselves, and our quest to find our place in the world.

House of Light, Mary Oliver
I love Oliver’s work, and enjoyed this slim collection of quiet, luminous poems. It contains “The Summer Day,” which I already adored, but I found some new gems, including the end of “The Ponds”: “Still, what I want in my life / is to be willing / to be dazzled.” Lovely and honest scenes from nature, and musings on our “place in the family of things.”

The Lost Art of Mixing, Erica Bauermeister
A gorgeous sequel to The School of Essential Ingredients (which I adored), about chef Lillian and the people whose lives intertwine at her restaurant. Sous chef Chloe and dishwasher Finnegan are both healing from heartbreak of different kinds; Isabelle is struggling against memory loss; accountant Al takes refuge in numbers as his marriage falls apart; and Lillian herself faces a new, unexpected challenge. Luminous writing, and characters I wanted to meet. To review for Shelf Awareness (out Jan. 24).

Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury
I’d never read this classic, and finished it in a day. An odd, dark, yet hopeful story of censorship, war and preserving the written word against all odds. I didn’t connect deeply with any of the characters, but the message is powerful (and oddly prescient, considering it was written in the 1950s). Not a favorite, but I’m glad I read it.

What are you reading lately?

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june reads books part 1The Shoemaker’s Wife, Adriana Trigiani
I love Trigiani’s work and enjoyed this sweeping novel about Enza and Ciro, who meet in Italy as teenagers and eventually find their way to America (and each other). Wonderful scenes of village life in Italy, Italian immigrant life in various parts of New York City (from Hoboken to the opera), and finally small-town Minnesota. I particularly enjoyed the bond between Ciro and his brother. Trigiani writes lushly, as always, of clothes and food and music. Sometimes she tells instead of showing, but I am always happily swept up in her stories. (For my book club’s June meeting.)

The Lark Shall Sing, Elizabeth Cadell
This was a truly serendipitous find: it was on the library shelf next to Meg Cabot’s books. So I picked it up and thoroughly enjoyed the story of the Waynes, six orphans who all rush home to prevent their eldest sister from selling the family house. They pick up some new friends along the way, and everything works out tidily. A bit predictable, but highly entertaining.

Between Shades of Gray, Ruta Sepetys
Bought this in an airport bookstore and was totally captured by the story of Lina Vilkas and her family, Lithuanian refugees during World War II. Taken from their home in the night by Soviets, they endure cold, hunger, hard labor and abuse while traveling thousands of miles to Siberia. Painful but beautifully written, and a powerful tribute to the courage of the human spirit. Sepetys writes especially well about the tiny blessings and kindnesses that keep people going when life is bleak. (Not to be confused with that other “shades of grey” book…)

Esperanza Rising, Pam Munoz Ryan
Another story of immigrants, hard work and perseverance. Esperanza and her mother go from being Mexican nobility to immigrant farm workers in California’s produce fields. Esperanza is spoiled and bratty at first, but gradually grows strong and brave, and I enjoyed watching her learn to cook, clean, care for young children and adjust to her new circumstances.

The Christmas Mouse, Miss Read
Another brief Christmas tale from Fairacre, involving a real mouse and a mouselike boy who both visit an elderly widow on Christmas Eve. Sweet, if a bit moralistic (not Miss Read’s usual method). I enjoyed this, but I like the full-length Fairacre novels better.

An Irish Country Courtship, Patrick Taylor
The fifth in the highly enjoyable Irish Country series (I love these books). Barry Laverty, the young doctor of Ballybucklebo, is struggling with some big decisions, and so is his boss, Dr. Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly. They also find time to see to their patients, stop the local councilman from cheating at the horse races, and enjoy Mrs. Kinky Kincaid’s fine cooking. Possibly the best in the series so far – smart and comforting and often hilarious.

On the Outside Looking Indian, Rupinder Gill
Raised in Canada by strict Indian parents, Gill felt she missed out on a lot of “typical” North American childhood experiences: taking lessons (of any kind), learning to swim, going to Disney World. At 30, she set out on a quest to make those experiences happen. Along the way, she faced down quite a few fears, did some soul-searching and had her share of cringingly hilarious experiences. A “stunt” memoir, which at times veers into cliche, but overall fun and entertaining.

Gold, Chris Cleave
Kate and Zoe are the two fastest female cyclists in the world. They are also best friends (Kate is perhaps Zoe’s only friend), bound together by 13 years of racing and a complicated emotional history. Cleave brings a breathless, razor-sharp writing style to the world of competitive track cycling, as these women prepare for the 2012 Olympics (and as Kate’s daughter, Sophie, battles leukemia). Gripping, though the characters are always a bit detached from real life because of their devotion to cycling. (I received a copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.)

Six Impossible Things, Elizabeth Cadell
This is a sequel of sorts to The Lark Shall Sing (see above), set 10 years later. The Wayne siblings, notably eldest boy Nicholas and youngest sister Julia, are still trying to sort out their lives and loves. Weddings, foreign visitors, insightful friends and old-fashioned English village life combine to make this a fun and entertaining tale.

Are You My Mother?, Alison Bechdel
This was the first graphic narrative I’d ever read – and the subject matter (a lesbian writer’s complex relationship with her mother) is also way beyond my usual comfort zone. I found this book by turns provocative, fascinating, funny, offensive and sad. Bechdel explores her love life, her family life, Virginia Woolf, psychoanalysis and other subjects in a graphic format. (I read this for Lauren Winner’s memoir workshop at Glen East, of which more soon.)

This post contains IndieBound affiliate links. Graphic by Sarah.

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(I know March isn’t quite over, but I couldn’t wait to share my latest crop of reads with you. Enjoy, and happy weekend!)

A shy shadow by the bookshelf

The Chocolate Pirate Plot, JoAnna Carl
The 10th installment in a fun, fluffy mystery series, set in small-town Michigan (the protagonist runs a chocolate shop, hence the name). The mystery fell a bit flat, but I enjoyed revisiting familiar characters (scatterbrained Texas girl Lee, sweet Aunt Nettie and their husbands and friends), and spending a little time in Warner Pier. Nice to relax with, before bed.

168 Hours: You Have More Time Than You Think, Laura Vanderkam
Vanderkam insists – as do many time-management experts – that we all have time to do everything we need to do. And after reading this book, I’d tend to agree with her. She claims most people have a poor sense of where their time goes, and encourages readers to keep time diaries to see how they’re spending their 168 hours, so we can figure out how to reclaim the “lost” ones. She admits she’s speaking from a privileged standpoint (as am I), but she has lots of practical suggestions for spending your time more mindfully, efficiently and usefully.

Garden Spells, Sarah Addison Allen
Christy recommended the story of the Waverley women, who all have a bit of magic in them. When prodigal sister Sydney returns to their small town, reserved homebody Claire has trouble letting her back in – but they gradually come to trust each other again, and while Sydney pushes Claire to take a few risks, Claire provides the safety Sydney craves. A wonderful family story, with a dose of magical realism.

The Uncommon Reader, Alan Bennett
I’d been meaning to read this little novella for a long time, and thoroughly enjoyed it. The Queen stumbles onto a mobile library on the Buckingham Palace grounds one day, feels duty-bound to borrow a book, and becomes an avid reader. Which of course throws a wrench into her usual packed schedule, and upsets everyone from her husband to the prime minister! Wry, literary and oh so much fun.

The Time it Snowed in Puerto Rico, Sarah McCoy
I loved Sarah’s latest, The Baker’s Daughter, so I checked out her debut novel and enjoyed it too. Eleven-year-old Verdita, growing up in 1960s Puerto Rico, struggles to find her place: will she be a tomboy or a proper senorita? Puerto Rican or American? Lovely, lush details (McCoy has family in Puerto Rico and has visited there many times), and a satisfyingly open ending.

Jacob Wonderbar and the Cosmic Space Kapow, Nathan Bransford
I read Nathan’s excellent blog regularly (and if you’re interested in the publishing industry, you should too). I enjoyed his wacky middle-grade tale of Jacob, defeater of substitute teachers, and his two best friends, who fly off in a silver spaceship and wreak havoc on the universe. Good fun (and I bet I’d have liked it even more if I were the target audience!).

Reasons to be Happy, Katrina Kittle
Hannah, plain teenage daughter of two movie stars, is struggling to fit in at her chichi new school while her mother fights cancer. She used to keep a list of reasons to be happy (see title), but turns to an eating disorder when all the other reasons seem to disappear. A graphic description of bulimia, but a powerful story of trying to fit in, fight your demons and learn to ask for help. (And that list – which eventually returns – is wonderful. Kittle’s keeping her own list on her blog.)

Seabiscuit: An American Legend, Laura Hillenbrand
I tore through Hillenbrand’s latest, Unbroken, and I thoroughly enjoyed Seabiscuit’s story too. A wonderful evocation of Depression-era America – our huge industry of escapism largely dates from that time – and a fascinating story of three men (owner, jockey and trainer) who helped a runty horse rise to fame. Hillenbrand is a meticulous researcher and a talented storyteller. Highly recommended.

An Irish Country Doctor, Patrick Taylor
I loved this first installment in a series about Barry Laverty, brand-new apprentice doctor to crotchety Dr. F.F. O’Reilly, serving the people of Ballybucklebo, Northern Ireland. A cast of quirky village characters (including a beer-guzzling dog and a demon-possessed cat), a pastoral rural setting (though political issues hover in the background), and strong overtones of both James Herriot and Jan Karon. So, so much fun.

The Taliban Cricket Club, Timeri Murari
When the Taliban briefly decide to promote cricket in Afghanistan, journalist Rukhsana (who learned to play cricket in Delhi) begins coaching her brother and cousins to play in the national tournament. Winning will mean a chance for them all to escape to Pakistan and a better life – and for Rukhsana, escaping a Talib minister who wants to marry her. Well written and compelling, and also a tender family story. To review for the Shelf.

The Dressmaker of Khair Khana, Gayle Tzemach Lemmon
A fascinating nonfiction account of women working as entrepreneurs (in this case, five sisters starting a sewing business in their home) under the Taliban’s rule. (I’d gotten it from the library before the above novel arrived – but these two stories complement each other perfectly.) Lemmon tells the story of Kamila, who starts a business to support her family and ends up providing work for dozens of other women. A testament to the courage and ingenuity of Afghan women.

What are you reading these days?

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When I posted recently about my trip to Ireland four years ago, I promised you a post about the Aran Islands, those three tiny specks of land floating off the western coast of Ireland. I find it a bit ironic that I came to Ireland only to travel to the very edge of it – but the edge can sometimes be a charming place. And this edge was a place of rest, and quiet, and utterly beautiful peace.

We’d found a hostel on Inishmor, the largest of the islands, at the top of a hill (tough to ride up on a bike, but exhilarating to coast down). This view from the front steps exemplified our views all weekend – sea and sky, a few charming buildings, and so much green:

Of course, there were also many stone walls, which crisscross the islands like veins. They were built hundreds of years ago, and they stretch all the way up the hill to Dun Aengus, a spectacular ruined fort (worth far more than the 2 euros we paid to see it):

The cliffs at Dun Aengus are high, with no guardrails or barriers – and when we arrived at the top, we snickered at the other tourists crawling on their stomachs to the very edge of the cliffs – how dangerous! And how silly! But (you can probably guess), after walking over to the edge and nearly being knocked flat by the wind, we dropped to our bellies and peered down over the cliffs, and the wind whipped up to literally snatch our breath away:

Not a swim I’m anxious to take, but an absolutely stunning view.

Since we were out on the fringes of civilization, with limited options for entertainment or distraction, the whole weekend felt wrapped in a kind of simple, peaceful quiet. We rented bikes and cycled all over Inishmor, coasting down hills just for the fun of it, and stopping to pick blackberries along the roadside:

That evening, we ate dinner at Joe Watty’s (the only pub around, I think), and were nearly done when a trio of men came in carrying some musical instruments. They settled themselves in a corner and launched into a set of traditional Irish music, complete with haunting penny whistle – and we sat and listened, spellbound. Colton said later that he felt like Bilbo, listening to the Elves’ music in the hall at Rivendell. Then we walked back up the hill in a light, misty rain. Perfection.

This photo, taken by Colton, sums up the weekend for me: the sunny weather with a hint of chill, the vivid green crisscrossed with gray stones, the wide blue sky and expansive sunshine, and the joy.

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I wrote a post recently about how my body and my soul – quite apart from my conscious brain – sometimes remind me where I was, and what I was doing, at this time four years ago when I was living in Oxford. (This happens occasionally with other experiences – every May I get nostalgic for the two weeks I once spent writing at Camp Blue Haven in the mountains of New Mexico, often before I’ve quite registered the date on the calendar.)

Each September, my thoughts turn briefly back to a weekend spent in Wales, with a fun-loving crew of American students. But then, a week or two later, they turn to a quiet few days spent in Ireland, with a boy who is my cousin in reality if not in name. (Our grandparents, and our dads, have been best friends for forty-odd years.)

Colton’s semester abroad in Galway coincided with the first semester of my year in Oxford, and I’d long wanted to visit the Emerald Isle, so I hopped on a plane in mid-September to spend a long weekend with him. (This trip confused my English housemates; one of them asked bluntly, “But – isn’t Ireland quite similar to Britain?”)

Maybe it is, but my experience of Ireland was perhaps different from most people’s. For one thing, I spent hardly any time in Dublin (a fact I’d like to remedy some day), and I didn’t really meet any Irish people – Colton and I kept mostly to ourselves. That first night, when I arrived tired from a flight bookended by two long bus rides, we ate spaghetti with salami and Parmesan, in the university apartment Colton shared with three other guys. And I’m no drinker, so I didn’t go to Ireland for the booze (though Colton let me try a sip of his Guinness, and his roommates urged me to try mead) – instead, I ordered a cup of tea at every pub we went to.

We spent one day simply walking around Galway, taking photos of red leaves and stone churches:

And later, we went on a long walk down by the river, where, as Colton said, the dryads live:

On our stroll down the River Corrib, we spotted a ruined castle on the opposite bank (Castle Menlo, though we didn’t know it then). “I really want to go over to the other side and find that castle,” Colton commented. We looked at each other, and ten seconds later we had turned around, heading across a bridge and down the other riverbank, determined to find the castle (which eventually proved to be in the middle of somebody’s cow pasture. Only in Ireland):

We climbed around on the ruin – there were, blessedly, no barriers blocking our way or signs telling us not to – and snapped pictures of the ivy-covered buildings and walls. Eventually, we sat in one of the windows and watched the sun setting over the river, not needing to talk much, just soaking in the beauty and the green leaves all around us and the mellow, golden sunset light.

Every September, when the winds turn crisp and the grass and trees seem to glow brilliantly green before they begin to turn yellow and red, and when I start craving Yorkshire or Earl Grey tea with milk in the mornings instead of summer fruit teas, I think back to that weekend in Ireland, and I remember the light glowing on the stones of the castle and the sun sparkling on the river, and the long, quiet walks and talks with a friend I’ve known literally all my life.

The second part of our trip took us to the Aran Islands, off the west coast of Ireland – but those deserve their own post, which I’ll share soon.

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Being a landlocked girl from West Texas, I’ve spent very little of my life on coastlines. I live on one now, of course, but the beach near our house is a city beach, and the view includes the skyline of Boston. It’s a lovely view, but it doesn’t quite give you the feeling of being on the coast, indeed on the edge of our continent.

But last Sunday, I found myself in Rockport, tramping through a state park with my husband and a few dear friends. And we walked to the cliffs, big chunks of granite leading down to rough rocky beaches, with red seaweed growing on the stones. The water was gray and so was the sky, with glimmers of light and the occasional duck paddling around. And it was literally impossible to tell where sea ended and sky began.

I’ve only had that feeling a few other times – standing on the shore of the North Sea in Whitby; walking along the beach or standing on Diamond Head on Oahu, Hawaii; and standing on the cliffs of the Aran Islands, watching the sunlight glitter on the sea, the wind so strong it literally pulled my breath out of my lungs. Sunday’s breeze was a little gentler, the light softer, the weather cooler. But as I stood there I remembered what it felt like to stand on the other edge of the Atlantic. And in both cases, I felt like an explorer, standing on the edge of the world, looking out to endless new horizons and possibilities.

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