the doors of ireland

Sometimes life moves on a grand scale. There are big things to see, giant projects to complete, large obstacles at hand, momentous occasions to celebrate, ginormous stresses to handle, monumental milestones to reach.

But sometimes, it is small. It is simple. All of the adjectives that mean "big" have been swept away by time, and you are left with the itty, bitty, neat, fine, ordinary things. It's as if you've been staring at an oncoming tornado, gigantic and swirling from sky to dirt, and suddenly it disappears and you notice that the sun is shining, the buds are blooming and you're a bit hungry.

The nectar of living can be found in these moments. Sometimes it's harder. But I find that the joy can be sweeter. When we went to Ireland, I remember a lot of the big things we saw. The Cliffs of Moher, the castles, the immense landscapes and gardens. But I also remember the tiny clovers I tucked in my hair and the feel of warm rain and the sporadic collection of colorful doors in Dublin. The smaller things that caught my eye, the things I found romantic and sweet.

When you find yourself in these seasons of waiting, when the calendar is empty and your soul is wanderlusting and all of the big, wonderful things have fallen away and it's just you and the daily grind, take heart. Take many hearts. Grab at them and let them love you. Grab at them and tell them to let you love them. It's easy to feel restless and to try to force something big into your life, to fill it with the many wonderful somethings you think you need. But everything you need is right here. Refocus on them. Don't wish them away. Let your eyes absorb the bright doors and give thanks for their marvelous color.

wanderlust wednesday

Snapshots from Dublin, Ireland. St. Patrick's Day, 2011. 

My husband and I had a cozy honeymoon in the mountains our first week of marriage. We were married during Christmas break (on 1-1-11), so we had one semester of college left. We saved our money and decided to take a much bigger honeymoon trip during spring break. We had originally thought of taking an Alaskan cruise, but Dustin came across the same trip to Ireland that my family had taken together a year earlier - the trip that Dustin proposed to me on!

Of course we decided to repeat the trip together as a married couple, and it was magical. Since it was March instead of December, the weather was a bit warmer (although still quite cold), the grass was much greener, and we were able to visit many incredible little towns we hadn't been to before.
 We hiked up to the Witches Hat, we saw the Cliffs of Moher, we visited Waterford and Galway, and we even celebrate St. Patrick's Day in the great city of Dublin. We were in the beating green heart of Irish enthusiasm. Our hotel surprised us that morning with little corsages of fresh clovers, which we enthusiastically pinned to our coats before heading out for our day of Dublining. We stood for hours to enjoy the rather grand spectacle that is the St. Patrick's Day Parade in Dublin - it was both beautiful and strange and sometimes dark, and we found ourselves baffled and fascinated by their displays of color and music and characters.

It was so cold in the shade that we were overwhelmed with gratitude when we found a coffee shop that was open a few doors down towards the end of the parade, and eventually we wandered into a warm pub that was crowded with green-clad people. I ended up getting horribly sick towards the end of the trip, probably due to the hours in the cold, but it was worth it. (Although in hindsight I should have been wearing much warmer clothes. I was way too persistent about wearing my shamrock-green tights).

One of my favorite pictures above is of the three clearly drunk Irishwomen who demanded, rather excitedly, that we take their picture. I was also flashed by a redheaded Irishman later on, which I'm quite sure he doesn't remember.

It was an incredible day - one that I hope never fades as time goes by. It is a memory that is still as full of color and hollering as the day I stood there with my new husband, rosy-cheeked and freezing.

wanderlust wednesday

Killiney Hill. Southern boundary of Dublin Bay, Ireland. March, 2011. 


I have no doubt that I will return to Ireland someday. It has bewitched me, which is why I am sharing, quite fittingly, photos of the "Witches Hat" obelisk atop Killiney Hill.
My husband and I returned to Ireland together a few months after our wedding. We had been once before with my family in the winter, which was all snow and enchantment and exploration. That's where we got engaged, in the stunning, blustery gardens of Powerscourt Estate.
This trip, just he and I, was in the spring of 2011, a little over a year later. It was an entirely different world, and took us to many new places. It was our very first traveling experience without adults. Oh the bravery and the folly and the whimsy! And most especially the gosh darn GPS who (we named her Julie) was intent on our destruction.

Our first day there we took our little rental car and parked at the base of Killiney Hill. We hiked up the wooded walkway, the sunshine streaming in rivulets through the branches, taking our time. Once we reached the top, it was incredibly quiet and the views were cool and hazy. We spent over an hour just sitting in the grass, soaking up the view and allowing the Witches Hat to tell us her many stories.