I have to admit that reentry hasn't been easy. One day back in Maine, and I already missed the sun (yeah, that famous Irish sun), the ocean out my front door, the sea cliffs and the wild fuchsia, the Medieval walls and cathedrals and castles, the brightly-painted stucco houses, the Guinness and the Murphy's and the Jameson's, the Bailey's on my breakfast porridge, the eggs with fried mushrooms and tomatoes, the blackcurrant sorbet, the rhubarb yogurt, the live music in every pub every night of the week, the Irish people with their lovely Irish accents and blue Irish eyes, the curlews and gulls singing in the mudflats, all the crazy corvids (rook, hooded crow, raven, magpie), the sheep-dotted hillsides, the double-decker buses, and the horizon. Oh, the horizon.
Sunday morning, I stepped outside to escape bickering children, children who no doubt needed my attention, after my 11-day absence, but were going about getting it in a way guaranteed to make me not want to be around them. I spied a ripe berry on one of the many raspberry bushes that take over any spot on our land not shaded out by evergreen trees, but which rarely give up any fruit. While I savored my berry, I noticed this tiny gray tree frog on a leaf (gray tree frogs start out life green).
When I call ed C over to look, he spied this even tinier peeper.
And a few leaves away, I saw this Katydid.
And a little bluet drinking nectar from a nearby vetch.
Camera in hand, I walked slowly up the driveway, eyes open for little things.
The things we normally pass by in our hurry to get on with our days.
Meanwhile, all kinds of life is busy getting on with its days, in a "summer is short" kind of way.
Well, it's not a week in Ireland, but it's all still pretty amazing.