Western skies move slowly, as clouds bank up from the Atlantic Ocean.
Warm air merges with rain sodden earth and the mist rises, wisping it’s way over mountains, that sweep down to bog and lough on the western shores of Europe.
Ireland moves inexorably towards Midsummer and Solstice.
The settlements dotting the landscape are timeless, houses today, cottages not so long ago and earth forts before that.
Mountain, sky, water and earth hold the memory of past lives, all gazed upon by peoples from the past, invader and native alike.
This land has captivated the hearts of countless generations, breaking many on the way.
Revered as sacred, farmed and fought over, grown men have wept unashamedly, as they left from the American Wake, never to return.
Everything we have comes from the land; food, clothes, homes, furniture and health…especially health.
The cycle of life is bound, woven tightly, into the land.
We are woven into the land, despite the layers of seeming impermeability we weave between ourselves and the sacred earth.
In these days of threat and uncertainty, as our leaders play out the dangerous game of thrones that threatens war, our return to the land affords us time of calm and meaning.
We inhabit one very small and exquisitely beautiful planet in a universe of dying stars.
We are of stardust itself…united on this small, blue, beautiful planet.