It has already been a long time since I was there… Of course, it is winter still and the weather has not always been as suitable as a wandering like this asks for, but! Anyway, from time to time I just long to be there and be part of it. At this time of year it does not need to be long, only, as to say, I would like to have a little glance around the corner and enjoy the variety in the scenery. I would love to have a quick look at the organ pipes, for instance, are they still as nicely shined upon by the sun as if it looks they are made out of bronze and what about the, by myself so called Roman bridges, would it be possible to notice whether they are even be more caved by the force of the waves against the rocks since the last time I saw them? There are always a lot of questions I live with when I have not been there for a certain amount of time.
Lovely, today is promised to be a good and fair one. There will be a cold but not so strong wind and going up it will be at my back anyway. So, why any hesitation at all…
And as go brách linn ( and off we go), Tjitske, my dog, and myself. Both of us are cheerful. Actually I am and I think she is as well, respecting the way she behaves, happily walking alongside of me, swaying her tail. Until we attain the spot where I have to decide which way we will take…. Because I have some foreknowledge, I decide to take the left wing, which will lead us to exactly the same spot but with a small detour. Tjitske goes in front of me, climbing the stone built stairs, happily. Entering a following field, however, I notice an attitude of vague reluctance from her side. Only with some stimulant words she walks on.
From where we are now I thouroughly enjoy the impressive scenery and I impend to forget all about my dog. Minutes later, I realise her absence though. I look over my shoulder and see her sitting, comfortably amid all those crooked and straight stones. She seems to have something different in mind than I have….
I continue my way. On my way back I pass Cathaoir Synge. It is there that she sits, waiting….
Slán go fóill,
Elisabeth from Inis Meáin.Pin It