Purple Heather

We ventured out and how nice it was after eight days confined to barracks. First we went down to revisit a local well - Tobernanore, Well of the Cold Spring, also known as the Singing Well. It was looking good under the massive sky, even better after I had cleared out the debris. It holds a cure for warts and skin aliments and once cured a woman of the blast - a baleful breath administered by the Good People fairies, and what we might recognise as a stroke today. 

Then we went on to Farrananmanagh, the sea and the lake.  We had brought a picnic and ate our sandwiches down on the pebbles. Himself went for a wander and I lay back in the sunshine and listened to the layers of sounds from the sea, a surprising variety of whooshes and gurgles, slaps and licks, trickles and tinkles!

We walked up and over the headland, admiring the heather and the gorse and the blond grasses.  We gazed on the little house perfectly tucked into the hill and Himself remarked, as he often does, that he would like that little place. 

We are now both wrecked but it was just what we needed.
And good news - the Heritage grant has come through. Just in time for we have had to order a second printing of the book and paid far more than we were hoping to!  I thought reprinting was meant to be cheaper. Apparently not.

Wild Mountain Thyme - I think I was distinctly under-dressed for my frolic through the heather