Its green because it rains, its lashing down now. Anyway read about Fanad in the 1800's, sounds like the wild west, a land beyond borders, land of headmen, clan battles, murdered informants turning up in a bog years later. The only way in was to be along the loughs.
A land of family groups, a few acres, a field of potatoes - mixed with Holy Wells, Colm Cille's prophesies, Sweeney's, Vikings and dolmens.
The wind is blowing around Cnoc Albhiagh, it is firing the ball bearing droplets into our eyes, the Mountain Hare, through here earlier is sheltered up now. The yellow gilded Gorse twists and bends, flicks back up after the gusts. Across the water the horizontal smoke freed out from warm fires, sit a while, take a cup of tea, a bite to eat, it's not a day to be out and about.
This is a wonderful place...
But the internet is intermittent which is appropriate
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