And all the roads that lead you there were winding
And all the lights that light the way are blinding
There are many things that
I would like to say to you but I don’t know how
When the sun is shining, Connemara looks like a fairy-tale land. Lush green spills onto the road like a cocktail of parsley and kiwi. It mixes with navy streams and sea-pink Armeria Maritima for several dozen kilometers. Magic mountains reign under the sky, and at their foot the most beautiful turquoise I have ever seen is glazed.Continue reading
There’s no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothingAlfred Wainwright
The force of the wind on the Beaufort scale is nine, a little tree knocked over on some balcony in Galway. I prepare sandwiches and pour coffee into tourist mugs. We put on hoodies, jackets, hats, I take gloves, even it is May. Dauntless sneakers are ready for the adventure. The songs by Polish band T.Love sound in the car, so memories mix with the N59 road, and beige hills with newborn sheep hug their mums on the fields. Long before Clifden, we turn right to the Connemara National Park. The direction is three beautiful beaches.Continue reading
The third lockdown in Ireland lasted almost half a year. We could only move to five kilometers. Recently, the restrictions have been relaxed a bit, and we are allowed to move within one county. Missing Connemara, I could finally visit her. On April 16, the afternoon had a warm gray color, and we went with friends to cut my Birthday cake on the hills.Continue reading
When the light goes out over my story, I hesitate to get up and make a coffee in an orange mug but I do it and go into the darkness. The wipers can not keep up with the ocean that pours in front of my eyes. I feel dizzy in my head for thirty minutes. And finally, I see that sheep also like to hide under a rock.Continue reading
When I was a small I was asking “What is life, mom?”.
You see life is me and you, this bird, that tree and flower – she was answering to me.from the song of Dżem “Naive questions”.
Summer came. Connemara has dressed in juicy green and now looks like a land of hobbits. Fragrant, soft, blissful.Continue reading
The first day of Christmas is gray. I pour coffee into an orange, travel cup and tea into a thermos, wrap four pieces of poppy seed cake. We go to Connemara. Can’t imagine to visit her on Christmas, actually I can’t already imagine to live without her.
Beige hills, raw rocks, wet khaki colorued grasses and white-blue sheep awake me to the authenticity.Continue reading