One morning last winter, I struck out on a stroll down a fog shrouded country road near Kinvara Co. Galway with a camera I had borrowed. It felt like one of those mornings when the honking of Whooper Swans emerging from the grey would have been entirely appropriate. Mixed flocks of Redwing and Fieldfare were feeding in the fields and alighting on the ditches. Newtown towerhouse (pictured left on that morning) looked mysterious and silent, save for the calling of a Raven (a pair nest here every year). Looking about, the few scattered houses with obligatory satellite dishes were invisible in the fog, there were no signs or sounds of traffic. The only betrayal of my 16th Century world was a telegraph pole and wire running across a field to my left and the narrow winding road beneath my feet, otherwise I was lost in ancient Ireland.
No comments:
Post a Comment