It's hard for me to believe that a month ago I was sitting in a B&B on the west coast of Ireland contemplating the mystery of it all and wishing I had more time for chasing down the haunts of Granule, their Lady Pirate. I think of Ireland often: It comes to mind as an image flying by the window of a Dublin tour bus, or that all-over sense of being surrounded by mountains up close, or the surprise of seals sunning themselves on a rock in the bay. Or it can come as a return of Granule. When our national news reported that Ireland had voted to accept the "Lisbon Treaty," I thought of the conversation I'd had with the curator of the tiny Granule Museum, why she was opposed to it, what Granule would have thought of it, and then of the myriad other things that confront other countries that we know nothing about.
It is a magical place, Ireland. It doesn't leave you. No wonder these people believe in leprechauns and pots of gold at the end of rainbows!
I must harness my thoughts and get back to my latest project, my latest mess. But Ireland will not go away for good, I know that.
PW
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