Ireland - One Last Look

Whenever we turned to descend a hill on the Wicklow Way, Kevin our guide would say "we'll never see that again." He meant that another part of the walk was behind us. 

"Never's a strong word," I said after the third time he'd said so. "You don't know that we won't be back." 

Ever flexible and accommodating, Kevin promised to stop saying never, at least to me.

St. Stephen's Green, Dublin.

Readers of this blog have enjoyed the photos I've shared. So here's some more, just in case Kevin's right and we don't come this way again.

Trinity College Library - The Long Room.

Ireland has a phenomenal National Gallery - with a Vermeer (!!) and everything - but the most remarkable piece I saw was this exquisite miniature ... made of wax. Imagine the skill and artistry involved in this ... it is just amazing. You can read
more about the artist, Catherine Andras, here.

There are copies of this document in every town in Ireland (see below), but this is one of the originals. Lovingly preserved at the National Print Museum, you can tell this is an original copy of Ireland's 1916 Declaration of Sovereignty because it has a seam running horizontally along the middle. The press they used was too small to print the whole poster. The other indications of its authenticity are a couple of the e's are in a smaller font (they ran out of right-sized e's) and one e is upside down.

The Declaration in Roundwood.

The Declaration is so recognizable, fragments
are all that's needed. Memorial Garden in Dublin.

The Irish countryside is also instantly recognizable. There's nothing else quite like it.

Extraordinary Medieval engineering:
the round tower in the Monastic City at Glendalough.
The graveyard came after the Monastic City was abandoned.

Latter day engineering: the hobnail trail on the Wicklow Way
provided a solid surface with a good grip.

Stand out greenery: larch trees by Glendalough.

Like lichen-covered stacks of Mentos: The Giant's Causeway.

Back in Dublin, the Irish love of language on display.

Sartorial Elegance

I absent-mindedly packed my hat the morning we left Roundwood and discovered my mistake only after the luggage van had made off with our bag. I asked Kevin if he had a spare in his Mary-Poppins-grade knapsack. He said he did, but it was not, he added, the epitome of "sartorial elegance."

I told him that was not going to be a problem for me, but the phrase struck Keira as funny. 

So here you have it, sartorial elegance on the Wicklow Way, photo by Keira:

Thanks for reading!

Have a great week!

Karen

Woman Writing a Letter with her Maid,
J. Vermeer