Lá na ceapaire or the day of the sandwich, New Years’ Day

Even the thrush did not give his early morning concert. Walking under a deep blue sky with some stars still shining brightly from above and a sea with glittering foam caps beside me the strong wind was my only companion.

Rough weather

It seemed as if there were even more winds involved for whatever direction I went I met her strength coming towards me. And with her she brought a severe cold which went right through me. I realized the implacability of the force I had to deal with. A similar quality as what happened last night with a long-lasting downpour which never seemed to stop.

Later in the day

During the past year, up till this moment I did not really have the chance to deal with these forces for winter has been mild with hardly any storm or rainfall of significance. Not only the primrose is blooming yet but also the lesser celandine while the wild garlic is growing fast. And so are the rose and the tears of God or the fuchsia, untiring in showing their beautiful colours.


Lesser celandine

Experiencing Spring, seemingly running towards us instead of coming step by step and forget all about the weather, is lovely. However, having to think which season we actually are in and what season is coming next. . .
Although it is a cold and windy day I love it because it gives me back my alertness to be in the moment.

A new year has begun

To be the filling of the sandwich means not only able to look on what was but also what needs to be done and how to realize. Well that was what I did today I moved to another place on the island.

Slán go fóill,
Elisabeth from Inis Meáin

Early November

Embedded in a pale blue sky the few clouds are shaped like feathers of a seabird. Pointed southwards they are strongly driven by the wind coming from the north and blowing over Inis Meáin. It is cold this early morning but it is dry and that is the main thing. A fair day may lie ahead of us.


And so it turns out. It is only some hours later that Trácht Each, the stony beach at the northern part of the west, is being milked by the sun. What a pleasure to follow her shadow moving in a fast pace over the surface. It is in no time that many subtle shades of grey pass my vision. Although it is lovely to observe this magnificent view now from the highest terrace I cannot wait to get ready and set off to be in it.

nicely-roundedNicely rounded

I walk the winding road which guides me over two terraces lower down where at the cross road I take the left wing. It is almost at the far end of the road, just before there where the ceremonious sounding entrance stones at both sides of the road, prepare you a welcome. However, I take the turn to the limestone slabs.

in-metamorphoseIn metamorphose

Massive of lime stone has paved the sea here. At some places there are many small and sharply edged broken pieces while at other spots I come across big and nicely rounded stones also.


In the grykes, the deep cracks in the slabs, I see lovely and exotic ferns which are probably only able to develop and survive in these places because of the sheltered place they are growing in.
Unexpectedly I am confronted with a puffin hole when I cross a small heap of big stones. As it is low tide I can have a close look at it. Just as the stones at this beach and deep down too, this hole is round shaped as well. The many different layers in colour, design and thickness are impressive.


different-layersDifferent layers

After having taken another barrier of stones though an, almost overwhelming, touch of gratitude fills my heart. It is here as if I enter the eternal world where past, present and future are united.

eternal-worldEternal world

Slán go fóill,
Elisabeth from Inis Meáin


On a fair day you can spot her coming, even from far way out. She, banríon na farraige or queen of the sea. Well, a queen she definitely is but in her own right, I would say. The way for example she presents herself, every morning and every evening, is endearing; with a straightened back she faces in full trust those what wants to come towards her. Having her “wings” in a well behaved manor alongside herself, she is a penguin alike.

cleaving-the-wavesCleaving the waves

How moving it is to see her coming and how touching at the same instant it is also, to observe her enthusiasm; from far away you almost can feel the nearly indomitable and impetuous eager she has to moor the pier, she spurts along. Facing them she cleaves the big waves aside and on she strives. There is no stopping her. Like a knife she cuts her way directing her aim.

and-there-she-comesThere she is

“Yes, that’s what it is she said, I am bewildered. It is not that I am frightened or scared. No, I am just bewildered. It is not long after the ferry moored at the pier that she asked the boatman “ where am I”? “This is the middle one out of the three islands, which you have chosen as your destination for today”, he answered patiently. She looked around but nobody seemed to offer up to embark like she was intended to do. “What am I supposed to do”? She said desperately for on the quay she did not see a soul.

a-taste-of-inis-meainA taste of Inis Meáin

“What can I do here” she asked him again. Well, you can walk the island I suppose and you can climb the forts. But look, do you see that car over there? I am sure that is the place you are welcome to put your questions on. And be assured we will come back to pick you up again later this afternoon. And off the queen rounded the corner of the pier under way to her next destination.
There was a long list of questions she wanted to inquire about whether there is public transport on the island, pony and trap, shops and a variety of restaurants. The answer was ‘no’. Not as such. And who does live in all these houses. I do not see anybody at all. Where are they. And what about all the noises I am used to hear?

low-tideLow tide

A sip of fresh and strong Irish tea did good on her for then she wished to head down for the church. What a lovely and intimate church you have and so full of peace she confided me later on.

coming-homeComing home

Slán go fóill,
Elisabeth from Inis Meáin


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