Time to venture out, and to one of my favorite spots. Since the road to Torc Waterfall is especially windy, BW and I switch positions—so I avoid car sickness.

Both Kat and I suffer from it, so she’s behind the wheel, and I’m front seat passenger.

It’s a gorgeous drive. Some rain, some sun as we wind along with Magillicuddy Reeks rising and spreading, the land below vivid green, dotted with sheep—and goats. 

The hills go rockier and rougher for a wonderfully wild view, and at a view—Ladies View—we pull off for a look.

What a look, there’s miles and miles of green and rises, the spread of steel blue water below clumped with green knuckles of tiny islands. It’s all windswept, managing to be dramatic and pastoral at once.

What catches me is a huge old tree with big, curved branches spreading low, dipping over the ground and the rocks it grows out of. Or the rocks grow out of it, that’s the beauty.

I know immediately this will find its way into the next trilogy I’m mulling. We take pictures as the boy sleeps in the car with Jason and Kat taking turns sitting with him.

Back on the road and we pass another spot that grabbed me years back and became The Valley Of Silence in my Circle Trilogy. That wide, deep dive of land, the spears and tables of rock inside it, the majesty and grumbling desolation of it still grabs.

And on we go. The road narrows, narrows until it’s as skinny and sinuous as a snake. In and out of tunnels carved into the rocky cliffs—and the drop on my side is pretty forbidding.

I’m amazed how Kat manages it, skimming the low rock walls on the right, slipping by with a breath between the cars, coaches, lorries coming on the left.

We agree it’s like Mario Cart.

There’s heather and gorse pushing out of rocky hillsides, and tall, tall, thin pines thickening into forests.

When we get to Torc inside Killarney State Park, the lot’s packed.

The stalwart Kat weaves through, circles around, creeps and maneuvers, and we find a spot where someone handily just left.

Time for rain gear as it’s drizzling a bit.

Inside the magic of the forest where the faeries live, the light’s a quiet, luminous green. Those tall, wind-sculpted trees are coated with moss, and the whiskey-colored river runs fast.

Here, Griffin decides Nana should carry him, so I haul the boy while he laughs, babbles, points. We discuss the faeries on the way through and to the falls until my arm gives out, and I do a pass off.

The waterfall rushes down the rock cliff, full of sound and hurry as it spills white into the river. Little falls leap along and create small pools where I’m sure the faeries swim.

The boy is thrilled, can’t say enough about the water, the sound, the river. He must share his thoughts with Nana whose arm’s recovered enough to hold him again. 

Note: I do no upper body lifting other than Griffin these couple weeks!

It’s a beautiful spot, well worth the snaking drive.

Back through the forest where a tree reclines over the river. Griffin walks, delighted to do so, holding Mama’s hands.

We go through a tunnel, watch a few jaunty carts with their pretty horses, say hello to a big friendly dog.

Into the car to drive back to Kenmare for a late lunch. We’re behind a little white car packed with people for a bit—a car that started out driving on the wrong side, made its shaky way back to the left. We’re concerned about them as the driver’s obviously new at this, and likely terrified.

When we turn off, I hope they get where they’re going without incident.

There’s a street fair in Kenmare—and apparently it’s also Donut Truck Day. We wander by the white canopied stalls. I buy two very nice wooden spoons. I can’t resist a good wooden spoon.

Lunch time where the boy goes starry-eyed over our waitress. She’s sweet with him as he flirts—and he offers her his prize squid or octopus—we’re not altogether sure. When he offers her the second squid, I tell her I think they’re engaged now.

He eats heartily, as do we all, and pauses once when he spots his current love way down the other side of the restaurant.

He wants to walk off the meal, so I’m happy to walk him around the place, outside, back, and to a table of teenage girls having a lively time of it. They give a communal AWWW! 

He talks and flirts and charms, but his heart is taken by our waitress.

After lunch we walk the short distance to a stone dance. It’s every kind of wonderful, with two faerie trees for hanging wishes.

The place makes my skin hum—and Griffin is an instant fan.

Home again. A nap for the boy. I catch up on emails, do a little work.

I think to take a walk as the evening’s pretty gorgeous. A light drizzle, but that’s no problem, not when the air’s so fresh, the flowers so pretty.

I don’t get a quarter mile before the drizzle turns to actual rain.

So back I go.

More play time with a happy boy who’s so easily amused and entertained. Mama feeds him, Nana walks him.

I show his parents how you can hold one of his hands, reach your other out in front of him. He’ll take several steps forward.

Bedtime.

Another pretty morning. BW joins me for the last thirty minutes of cardio, and a ten minute core session. Good for him!

Some packing up to do today, maybe some laundry. And maybe I’ll get that walk in before we head to Mayo tomorrow.

Nora

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In today’s #randomkatness: Be Ware

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Bonus Griffin photo:

The morning’s beautiful and bright, and off we go. With Kat at the wheel, Jason running GPS through his phone, and BW making sure Kat doesn’t get too close to walls or hedgerows on the right, Griffin and I get to sit back and enjoy the ride.

All those narrow, windy roads with the hills rolling up, the fields spreading out. Mountains of hydrangeas in gardens of tidy houses. Horses, cows, sheep enjoying the sunshine. 

We climb up and up into those hills with their outcroppings of gray rock and steep folds of land, and all in dozens of shades of green. And into Cork.

We’re heading toward Corriganess Castle—an old stronghold set above the river. We wind and climb our way there, hitting a couple little pockets of rain, then sun again.

It’s a glowering old keep with spreads of green fields and lovely flowers. 

We walk to the river first, with its energetic little falls that has Griffin squealing in delight. The boy loves water.

Around the road and over the bridge to the keep where a trio of workers sit at a table having their lunch while we explore. Apparently during some attack a few hundreds years ago, the invader killed the castle holder’s wife. He retaliated by tossing the guy off the parapet and into the river.

Can’t blame him.

We walk about, take pictures, Griffin enjoys the grass and likes feeling the old stone walls. 

Me, too!

Around and out again, and BW asks one of the workers what this large crab appley looking thing is. Rose hips. I’ve never seen such enormous rose hips. 

And it’s off to Killarney—and the weather begins to change. Clouds roll in, the rain falls. None of us brought rain gear—except Griffin! Clouds blur the hills, turning everything soft.

Now and again the sun peeps through giving everything that luminous pearly light.

Kat navigates the very big and busy town of Killarney, finds a car park. And as the rain’s heavy now, we out to sit in the car a bit. 

Jason checks his weather app which claims there’s no chance of rain. Well, that’s what we thought, too.

When it slows enough we head out. We want some lunch, had thought to take in another site.

We hit a couple stores, more for shelter as the rain’s come back than shopping.

And find the Wild West (American style) for lunch. It’s a fun place, decorated cowboy style, wanted posters, a big cowboy, a big Native American, a saddle. And an expansive menu that’s going to hit the spot for all.

Nachos for the table—guacamole for Griffin. And enough food after that to satisfy.

Griffin wants to walk, and since it’s there, Nana puts him on the saddle. He must’ve been a rodeo rider in another life because he knows just what to do.

There’s another little boy, so we have to go say hello. They have quite a conversation, and the mama says she’d love to know what they’re saying to each other.

Another break in the rain when we leave—and hit the shop with Irish gelato and enormous donuts. Griffin and I go for the gelato, and leave the donuts to the rest.

Since I’ve had experience with Griffin and ice cream, I get two scoops. 

More rain, so it’s back to the car. We’ll see more sights another day.

We drive right out of the rain into the sun. The afternoon towards home’s as gorgeous as the morning had been. We have the time and weather to play outside a bit, take one of our traditional panoramic shots.

Griffin and I walk around after he plays in the grass. He’s very interested in the gravel, plops down to play in it, decides to taste it. 

That’s a no, says Nana.

Walk a few steps, plop, play, attempt to taste. No. Repeat but instead of tasting, hand Nana some gravel to distract her while you try to taste the next.

Nana’s not so easily fooled.

After a full day we opt to stay in, cook some pizza, warm up leftovers, and just chill out.

Rainy this morning, but that’s already passed. Workout’s done, and Griffin has his morning dose of mash-ups.

Kat’s heading into Kenmare later. I may hole up and work a couple hours. No set plans yet. 

If the weather looks promising, we may drive out. Or it may be a day for Griffin to try out the indoor pool.

Plenty of time to decide.

Nora

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In today’s #randomkatness

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The saga of Griffin and the grass, in photos by his mother and Grandda.

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