The Comeragh Mountains lie towards the west of County Waterford. All year long we can track the sun as it sets further north or south along the high ridges, from one solstice extreme to the other. Like our elders, we tell the season and the hour by it.
The weather comes to us from these mountains too and so every morning we check to see what’s on it’s way. As in the old joke, if we can see the mountains there is rain coming and if we can’t see the mountains it is already raining.
Up here now there’s a bitter wind: eyes watering with warm tears, breath fogging up the viewfinder. The walk to the waterfall has us bent double against the force of it.
Over the other side beyond the summit, the road heads out west towards the Atlantic; Dungarvan, Youghal, Cork, Killarney, Dingle.
And as we turn for home I remember that it’s time to start planning a longer road trip again……
Marigold Jam says
So beautiful – I must visit Ireland and in particular your part of it one day!
You would be most very welcome!!
Kerry O'Gorman says
Lovely…makes my heart ache for The Motherland
Morning Kerry!! Mountains create an ache for sure…..hope you are coming home soon…..
Diana Studer says
sheep on the edge of the world.
Interesting how your fences zig zag.
Ours are dead straight lines, drawn on a map and inflicted on the land.
Diana, it's a bumpy lumpy landscape alright and every inch has been accounted for….. few straight lines around here….and thank you for reminding me of this fact….
Annie Cholewa says
Yay … I've managed to leave a comment. I've been having a few problems leaving comments on some Blogger blogs, as well as problems with my own blog's feed … the jury is out on whether the fix that's been applied has solved my blog's problem but it seems to have solved the commenting issue.
I've been really interested in your posts on contemplative photography Catherine.
Thanks Annie, yes I'm going to have a go at a few more posts on it throughout the year……Blogger? I stay but I'm not convinced……
I'm especially touched by the image of the old Church and steeple with the snow capped mountain. It is all so picturesque in your world. I recall the Dingle Peninsula and reading the poets of the place. I wish I could remember the name of the iconic group of writers who described the early years in the islands just off your shores. Maybe you recall. But we drove and drove and read the poets and felt the stillness and wildness of the place. I still treasure a photo I took of an old farmer with his pipe holding his Jack Russell Terrier proudly. He was a man of this land.
Hi Susie, the islands are called the Blasket Islands off the coast of West Kerry. The famous story teller (we all studied in school) was called Peig Sayers and of course there were others too. It's a part of the world where I visit every year and swim in the wild Atlantic. My writing and blogging friend Felicity lives there and has written a beautiful book about the area called the House on the Hillside. It is a magical place……can;t wait to head over there in the summer months…..xx
Why doesn't my picture (avatar) show up Catherine? Dagnabbit. -:)-:)
It's funny I don't t know why Susie!
Brrrr, looks chilly Catherine! Wild and bleakly beautiful, reminds me of the higher Lake District fells I knew well in my youth, and still return for treasured holidays. So you are planning a longer road trip…..any hints? Look forward to the posts.
Oh those mountains….I remember those when I visited Ireland. Stay warm.