Scary stories from a lovely place
At the beginning of this week we spent another lovely couple of days in Wexford visiting with Stephen’s brother’s family. Our visit was crammed full of cousin time but we also got to explore a little bit more of Wexford and its surroundings. It’s a lovely little harbour city and makes me want to live in a medium-sized country town. It’s big enough to not be too provincial, but also reeks of small town goodness.
While three of the four girl cousins were at school we took the opportunity of having four adults to three children and visited Johnstown Castle. It’s a beautiful, oldish castle manor on lovely, natural grounds, just a short drive out of Wexford town. It wasn’t too manicured so as to make it feel contrived, rather plenty of the Irish wildness remains.
We explored hollow, magical feeling trees. We strayed too close to pretty fountains. We walked around a large lake thick with a green growth that sat atop the water like freshly melted wax. We pointed at peacocks as they meandered nearby.
It was relaxing and relational and fun. We just made it back into town in time for the school pick up.
Later that evening I escaped during the madness of bath/dinner/homework time and walked down into Wexford town and around the harbour. I was gone for about two hours and it was a lovely time of solitude. I walked the cobbled streets, peered into sweet looking shops and wandered around the harbour, photographing boats that weren’t covered in snow and ice.
The sun shone bright and deep as it slipped lower in the sky.
That night we drove home to Dublin under the watchful eye of an enormous, egg-shaped, orange moon. Ireland is beautiful.