These are some stoic sheep and lambs I met one spring morning at Dunbeg, when last I visited the Dingle Peninsula in the West, a lovely stretch of mountains and rugged coast at the edge of the Atlantic Ocean. Don't you love the way the lamb perches on its mum's back?
I do believe the grass there is the greenest in all Ireland. We keep returning, just to make sure.
I'd give a shout out to my Irish ancestors, from the Republic and what is now Northern Ireland, but it would take up a lot of space. I'll spare you.
In stark contrast to the scene above, our St. Patrick's Day is white, not green. The Lodge received upwards of a foot of snow, topped by an icy crust of sleet. It's hard to tell exactly how much snow accumulated here, the wind blew it around a lot. But the Chap, who has been out there shovelling and snowblowing, provided the estimate.
I've just checked the call-in number for the dog transport. Despite encountering what must have been some hellatious weather in the mid-Atlantic and Southern New England, the driver is only running about 15 to 20 minutes behind schedule.
More later, perhaps.
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