Summertime in Donegal II: Goats, Sheep, Cows, Windowsills and Islands

And goats, mountain goats, Billie goats and fatso sheep, orange sheep and the way they might look at you while clinging on to purple heather at the bottom of a mountain slope on a dangerous bend.

Cows on edges of beaches, pregnant cows outside our kitchen window, cows non-stop-chewing the hazy days away.

Islands and their stoney houses, statuesque and standing erect after years of abandonment. Islands that pop up at you while bare-footed on long stretches of sandy shores, winding your way from seaside edge to seaside edge, where there may, or may not be, howling winds at your back propelling you onwards or the wind in your face, the drifting sand getting up close and personal and right in the face, the expanse of blue sky, grey sky, white sky, rolling, rolling, rolling at dawn and mid-day, the background whorl of wind wailing, carrying us through a desert landscape. 

Window and window sills and reflections and dogs staring out from them alongside Childs of Prague statues, cobwebby and headless, and Bizzy Lizzy plants still going strong. Vegetarian dishes out of this world, glasses of Guinness, chats and banter and doors being opened and closed...

Photos here:  

https://photos.app.goo.gl/XT421ccLim7LRze76

Summertime in Donegal: Music, Music Everywhere

Magnificent Donegal with family and friends this summer.

Music (and more music and a little more music..lol), Isabel on the keyboard, on the guitar, on the box, going like the dickens, the body is passion, the notes leaping high, the fiddles speeding up, getting louder and louder reaching crescendo.

A fiddle laid down on the table, in penumbra of light, surrounded by Guinness and beer mats, looking shiny and perfect, drawing its breath.

Tara and Ger and The Sunday Session, their songs stopping us in our tracks, pausing us mid-sips of Guinness, hearing pins drop,

delivering the here and the now.

Patrick on the accordion going from Wild Colonial Boy to The Hills of Donegal, the motion of hands, a perfect equilibrium, carrying us with him, as if on a dance floor, jiving and waltzing us with the tunes from his box.

Felix and Ayaho, straight from Japan with The Water Is Wide, banjo, fiddle and voice, having their way with us, the foot-tapping fever, all of us at it, from Cajun to French-Canadian to traditional Irish with mixing and matching and catching and watching and believing we really don't have any homes to go to and there's always the next night at Teach Billie's to do it all over again.

And there's Ernie and the way he sang The Man in the Moon, 'I came from the land of the long grass and gorse, I flew with the eagle and ran with the horse...' and the many more great moments of great songs and great tunes, igniting connection, imparting a blessing. x A few more pics here. https://photos.app.goo.gl/gNdg4zSQFZJcMXFAA

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