It has been almost a year since I last posted. It had been my intention for the final post on this blog to be written from the SW of Ireland. And as I write this, I am sitting at the kitchen table in our house on the Dingle Peninsula. Out our front window is Dingle harbour. Our kitchen window looks out on Ballysitteragh mountain, the top of which is partially obscured by clouds. Sheep are scattered in pastures all over the mountain side, and a pair of Friesian cows are grazing in a pasture a few hundred yards away.
Is Ireland everything we had hoped?
It is and at the same time it is different. The reality of one’s dreams is never a precise recognition of one’s imagination. Daily life intrudes. Water heaters need to be repaired. Immigration paperwork needs to be filed. A new system of weights and measures needs to be internalized. But it is all working out. There will be bumps and bruises, but we will be fine. And the learning process while aggravating at times, is nonetheless fun. The transitioning of cultures is bringing the family closer together as we learn. Ireland is a different country, but it does not feel like a foreign land.
The people are warm and generous. The music in the pubs is brilliant. And the natural beauty of the countryside surrounds us. I am particularly taken by the continuously shifting spectrum of light. The subtle shades of colour in the sky and across the land and water.
It is a peaceful sanctuary for a family that has been in desperate need of calm. The country presents an opportunity to gather ourselves and begin again.
I was going to write about the issues that expedited our move, but it is best to let them disappear into the past. I refuse to let them own us.
As for starting a new blog, I am not going to. This one will work fine. It just requires regular attention. I have made a promise to a friend in Paris that I am going to do that.
Open your eyes you can fly……