Our last morning in Doolin, Maggie and I took a walk around our neighborhood. That's our house up on the right and Ted's on the left.


This is quite an eclectic neighborhood. It includes cottages, small farms ... and a castle.

We had driven up and down these roads nearly every day throughout the week but had missed many charming details.

I was nearly overcome by the lovelies all around me, especially the one sitting on the wall!

When we reached the main intersection, we had a decision to make: head downhill on R 477 toward the beach we'd never seen or uphill on R 477 toward the castle and a blueberry garden we'd noticed a sign for?

The road to the beach looked shady and inviting ...

... but the castle was right in front of us, calling our names.

The castle won out as we'd known all along it would. It offered its own shaded road as a bonus.

Ballinalacken Castle is another 15th century O'Brien Clan ruin. In the 1800s, Lord O'Brien built his home next door, which now is a peaceful country inn and restaurant. We stopped in at the front desk to get permission to investigate the castle and were warmly welcomed. One detail was never mentioned, however. The castle gate is kept locked, so exploring is very limited.

Oh well. It was still nice to turn around and see this bird's eye view of our neighborhood, including the northern tip of the Cliffs of Moher.

On our way out we were treated to some of God's creative handiwork on the Ballinalacken grounds.

We ventured back out on the road again, staying to the right so that we could spot oncoming cars and dive into the hedges.

Just past the castle was a scenic cow pasture. A few of its residents peeked their heads over the hill to see whether we looked familiar.

Thus began our next adventure, The Calling of the Cows. With one long blade of grass in her hand, Maggie called the cows and invited them to come over to the gate. They were naturally skeptical at first, but Maggie persevered.

A brief meeting ensued.

"What should we do? Does anyone recognize her? Is there a chance she has food for us?"

"Might as well give it a shot. Come on, everybody. Look lively."

"Maintain eye contact. Don't let her look away. There, we've got her now! She has to feed us. Quickly, quickly. There's no time to waste!"

"Wait just a dang minute. What's that she's got in her hand? One little piece of grass? For all of us?! That's not enough to keep a bird alive."

disgusted whispering

"NOW what do we do? We came running all the way over here and now I just feel stupid. Don't look at her! Wait, somebody see what she's doing. Maybe there's more in her other hand."

"I think our best bet is to all just stand here and stare at her. Make her feel guilty. Surely that will work. Maybe. Everybody look sad. Is it working? How about now?"

"But ... Hey! Come back!"

The End. Or is it?

We were grateful to find that the Blueberry Garden sign was just around the next bend in the road. By that point we'd walked about as far as we could go, and I was glad we'd made arrangements for Curtis to come and pick us up if we weren't home after an hour or so. We hiked up the loooooooooong driveway and reached the garden only to find yet another locked gate with a sign telling us that they were closed for the day. Boo for no fresh blueberries!

Small consolations aside ...

... the only thing we could do was to head back down toward home past the heartbroken yet still faintly hopeful cows. This time it was our turn to not make eye contact, and everyone maintained a dignified silence.

The blessing of God on you, cow,

and twice as many blessings on your calf.

Come, Mary, and sit.

Come, Brigid, and milk.

Come, Holy Michael Archangel and bless the beef,

in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Irish blessing of the cow

The Burren (Boireann, meaning great rock or barren place) has been called a lunar landscape, but it's actually much more than that. This 100 square mile region is indeed solid rock -- karst limestone, to be exact -- but its deep cracks or grikes serve as home to arctic, Mediterranean and alpine plants as well as several rare species of Irish insects.



We took a Burren drive and stopped first at the Burren Birds of Prey Centre. This baby sea eagle said a quick hello ...

... and then we watched three flying displays. The first was an older sea eagle. described as a grumpy teenager not eager to follow commands and quick to fly off the handle. But just look at that wingspan!

Next up was Huey, who had greeted us in his living room a bit earlier. We learned that owls are

1) lazy hunters

2) patient waiters

3) not able to turn their heads around any further than other birds do

4) much smaller bodied than their fluffy feathers appear

5) able to fly silently because of those fluffy feathers

6) given more credit for wisdom than they deserve.

And finally we saw a terrific display by this peregrine falcon who willingly returned to his trainer after being allowed to fly away over the Burren hillside.

Our very favorite bird was the Maggie Bird. She didn't show us many tricks, but she sure was cute.

Then we headed right next door to Aillwee (pronounced illwee) Cave. You know you're in for an authentic spelunking experience when the cave entrace features a cafe menu and gift shop.

Look out! It's a bear! And yes, this was just about the silliest thing we saw on our entire trip.

But the cave itself was terrific for non-cavers such as ourselves. We learned a lot about the Burren's extensive cave system and how it was formed by underground rivers. Flash floods are not a concern in this area because water passes through the surface cracks into the caves, then gradually recedes and irrigates the land.

Here are a few of Aillwee Cave's lighted features. Mind your heads and avoid the puddles!

Whether below ground or above, the Burren is simply beautiful. And if these flowers can bloom where they're planted, I see no reason why the rest of us can't follow suit.

People began making their homes in the Burren thousands of years ago, and they left behind plenty of evidence of what was important to them. More than 2000 historic sites are scattered throughout the region, although most of them aren't marked for easy spotting by tourists. Poulnabrone Dolmen stands out clearly and can't be missed.

It may remind you of Stonehenge, but it served a very different purpose. Poulnabrone (meaning hole of sorrows) was a portal tomb, "a grave chamber on a cairn of stacked stones," according to Rick Steves. It stands about 10 feet high and was probably constructed 2500-4000 years before the birth of Christ. Originally there would have been more rocks stacked around what we see today, and the tomb is believed to have been the final resting place for about 30 souls.

Here's what my traveling companions were doing while I exhaustively documented every angle of Poulnabrone. Hey, at least they were willing to get out and look at another ancient pile of rocks.

And true to form, Maggie discovered a shopping opportunity on the way back to the car.

God be good to their souls

God rest them

God rest their souls

God have mercy on them

Irish prayer for the dead

Remember the view I shared from our walk along the edge of the Cliffs of Moher?

On our ferry ride back from Inisheer, we discovered the view from the water looking up. See how tiiiiiiiny O'Brien's Tower looks now? That's because it's 650 feet above us.

I'm just going to let you ride along on the ferry with us and see the majesty that unfolded before our eyes. It was a sacred moment for everyone on board.

Birds. Thousands and thousands of raucous birds.

Aahhhhh. Peace.

And joy!

As plentiful as the grass that grows,

or the sand on the shore,

or the dew on the lea,

so the blessings of the King of Grace

on every soul that was, that is, or will be.

Irish blessing on everyone