There's this cliff on the Dingle Peninsula where sheep munch on grass, nonplussed, not a care in the world though they appear to be hanging on a sheer vertical drop, clamped onto tufts of grass above ancient crags and a swelling Atlantic Ocean. Such grace, such attitude, such altitude! This little lamb and his mum came up the road for a visit. I am reminded of my cousin, Joe, who lives in County Clare and says, "Yes, of course, I talk to my cows in the field!" And my (late) father, also Joe, who reportedly conversed with bumble bees as he mowed the lawn. To each their own animal. I exchanged a few private words with these little fellows before we went on our merry way. Here's a synopsis:
Have a delicious rest of the summer. I'll be baaaaaaaaaaaaack, in the fall.
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