It's still raining in Ireland and so my mind has wandered back to May and the heart of an olive grove in the mountains of Mallorca.
Arriving during the night through a perilous cliff side track. Smelling before seeing. Ground cover of thyme, rosemary and lavender filling the still air as we walked our final few steps down to the small gate of the house where we would stay for two whole weeks!
The twisted olive trees and the rocky mediterranean coastline were revealed at dawn. The heat of the rising sun soon seeped into our bones and the freckles appeared on our noses. Every evening on the terrace over looking the sea, I took photos of the fading light. Every day we climbed down the stony path to the rocks and swam out through deep warm water, dreaming.
The sun burning on skin, the dry raked earth and fallen lemons on the streets of the village, five swims and a fish supper to follow. A change is as good as a rest, no wonder we crave it, here in the land of 40 shades of green, and endless days of rain.