Laurie Heath Studio: Wonderfully Made

Have you been anxiously awaiting photos from the rest of our Dingle Loop trip? Were you having trouble sleeping at night? Repeatedly checking for blog updates? Oh. Sorry about that. I took a few days off to simply rest and enjoy my vacation. IN IRELAND! What a concept! We're home now and trying to hang onto the last wisps of fresh, cool air in our bones, which is hard to do when it's 189 degrees outside.

I'll pick up pretty well where you last found me -- surrounded by rocks. I love them. I've never before noticed that rocks can be beautiful. Unfortunately, while I attempted to shoot every single rock in Ireland, a couple of my traveling companions named Tyler and Maggie lost patience with my fascination and elected to sit out the next stop on our driving tour: a cluster of beehive huts or clochans, which are basically igloos built of stone. I had to sit down to rest once I got there because our buddy Rick Steves failed to mention that "a short walk uphill" actually meant "as close to a 90 degree climb as physics will allow."


My patient boyfriend elected to follow me uphill and serve as a reference point for the size of these structures. They're slightly bigger than they look from the outside because of their sunken floors. Still, I'm appreciating my full-sized house today!

A kiss to celebrate surviving the hill!

We hit the road again and I decided to try shooting from the backseat. This is pretty much why I hate shooting from the backseat.

Getting out and finding an interesting vantage point always makes me much happier. Finding a safe place to pull over on Irish roads, on the other hand, makes Curtis considerably less happy.

I don't know how those sheep manage to not roll down into the Atlantic everyday. I mean, they don't even have fingernails to hang on with or anything.

Here is an example of the kinds of roads that kept Curtis from getting much rest on our trip. It was bad enough to have to adjust to driving on the left side of the road, but sharp curves, roads not really wide enough for two cars, ever-present tour buses, and the danger of falling rocks caused him plenty of stress. Not me. I was just alternately sleepy and frustrated at not being able to see from the backseat -- and forever grateful that Tyler was willing to sit in the navigator's seat.

At one particularly lovely spot, we noticed a For Sale sign and decided we could live with this view.

Uh-huh. That's what I'm talkin bout.

Our last stop along the road back from Slea Head or Ceann Sleibhe (I love saying this one: k'yown SHLAY-veh) was the Gallarus Oratory.

Here's what Rick says about it:

"The Gallarus Oratory, built about 1300 years ago, is one of Ireland's best-preserved early-Christian churches. Shaped like an upturned boat, its finely fitted drystone walls are still waterproof. Notice how thick the walls are ... "

Notice also how small the doorway is, as demonstrated by the ever-helpful Tyler.

The doorway and a simple window on the opposite wall provide the only light in the building. I wonder what it felt like to worship in this church on a regular basis.

The walkway leading back to our car was lined with thick hedges of fuschia. This tropical plant was introduced on the Dingle Peninsula hundreds of years ago, and since the Gulf Stream helps the area maintain a mild climate, fuschia now covers the peninsula. And thus concludes today's botany (ecosystem?) lesson.

We made it back to Dingle Town in time for a concert at St. James' Church ...

... a fine old building with many charming details.

We were thrilled to see our pipes and whistles friend Eoin Duigan again, along with terrific accordionist Brendan Begley (Breanndan O'Beaglaoich) and three of his talented children. Another superb musical evening!

The next day it was time to leave Dingle. We all agree we wish we could have stayed longer, but I guess we'll just have to plan to return someday. After one last stroll through town ...

... and a visit to the harbor ...

... we piled into the car and headed north toward County Clare. But first, here are two final educational tidbits. A few more Irish words for those of you interested in learning this intriguing and still thriving language:

And an answer to one reader's question posted on my Facebook page:

"When you are in Ireland, are Irish potatoes just called potatoes? So if you ordered potatoes with your meal, will it be a REGULAR potato, or an Irish one? These are the things I need to know."

Now you know, Gina. No need to thank me.

Really, we never heard them called Irish potatoes, just potehhhhhtoes. I tried to order mashers once and my family will never let me live it down. What? I'd heard them say bangers and rashers (sausage and bacon) and simply got a tiny bit mixed up. Mashers for potatoes makes at least as much sense, don't you think?

In honor of Father's Day a day late and Mother's Day a month ago, I'll sign off with an excerpt from Irish Prayers and Blessings for All Occasions:

For my mother who raised me at her breast

and for my father who raised me by the work of his bones;

I trust in the Son of God when they enter His presence

that there will be a hundred thousand welcomes for them

in the heavens of peace.