A damp start with a cool, thin rain, but we decide we want a walk before our ride, so out we go. We’re rewarded by the sight of a flower-decked carriage pulled by two Clydesdales–or they looked like it to me. The liveried driver and footman hold the horses as a couple of eager photographers take picture of the lovely bride and her handsome groom.

We head off, across the bridge, take the path that leads to what became for me Sorcha’s cabin. The woods are gorgeous here, and the gloomy light adds to it all. Though the big downed tree is gone, the cabin stands at it did, vine-covered beside the path. It’s easy for me to see Sorcha making magic here, teaching her children, waiting for her man, sacrificing herself in her attempt to defeat Cabhan.

There are fuchsias growing wild with their bold red drops just outside. I can see where she’s buried, imagine the bluebells.

We walk on, down to the water with its view of the castle, and a little rowboat pulled to shore.

And up the path again, into the woods. A new path for me, huge trees and slim ones, downed ones in a tangle all blanketed with moss, and an old stone wall, moss-covered.

Then a massive, stunning, magic tree. It looks as if several trees have joined at the trunk, grown up and up and up, spreading dozens of branches. It reminds me of a Tree of Life, and needs its place in a story. I doubt any pictures we took can capture it.

Imagine what it’s seen, what it knows.

It’s a wonderful walk, an enchantment of woods and moss and brambles. We do see a couple people–one pair with two dogs, a black Lab and his little companion who remind me of the pair of dogs BW and I saw before who joyfully splashed in the river. Later a mother with her little girl, the girl heroically trying to peddle her little bike on the rough path. It seems she’s only just had the training wheels off. They join their family, the father with a baby in a backpack, and two more girls.

It’s light and shadow, greens, so many greens and rich browns, and so quiet you barely hear the birds calling.

We come out again, and there’s the carriage. The bride and groom are out for pictures. Her dress is gorgeous. A princess of a dress, with a long, long, long tulle veil. She works to settle the full white skirt over the crinoline cage beneath, and I get a glimpse of her shoes. Fabulous! She wears a sparkling tiara over short, dark hair. The perfect bride for a castle.

We leave them to continue our walk over to the stables.

Apollo, the horse BW rode last time, has his head out the stall door–but isn’t interested in being greeted. The one next to him–I think she was Millie–is more than interested, especially in BW and Jason–actually bumps her head against BW’s back when he’s talking to me as if to say: Hey, how about me?

She wants to be petted, wants attention, nibbles on their shoulders, cranes her head out. She allows me to pet her, but is much more interested in Jason, all but laying her head on his shoulder.

Inside is the little stable dog Tingle, a small dynamo with a small stick he drops at our feet. I throw it into the dirt ring, and with a quick bark he flies after, kicking up dust. Runs back, drops the stick. It’s a game we all know.

Jason throws it for him again and again as we fill out forms, change into our boots.

After a short wait, our horses are brought out. Apollo for BW again–and when BW checked my travelogue from last visit, it seems I had Spruce then as well. Jason’s on Willow, Kat on Aladdin. Fiona, our guide is up on Puffin, who she says can be a problem, but is being trained as a lead horse.

It’s good to be in the saddle again, and after a couple of testing turns around the ring, we’re out the side door.

Spruce is a sturdy, sweet-natured Connemara, a gray who’s nearly white. He tailgates Puffin, and Fiona tells me that’s fine as Puffin likes to know he’s there. Willow, however, demands personal space and walks well behind. It seems Aladdin  was a carriage horse in his youth, so he’s a slow, plodding one. And Apollo is content bringing up the rear.

It’s a lovely, relaxed ride–for me anyway. Willow, it seems, is an opportunist and will try to eat at every step. Apollo enjoys snacking, but will walk as he does. Willow prefers to stop, so Jason’s pulling his head up regularly while Kat’s urging Aladdin on.

Then it’s into the woods, and it’s a fresh experience to travel through them on a horse. The sun’s come out, and the light’s dappling through the trees, shining here and there. We pause now and then to let the others catch up while Fiona tells me how she grew up on a farm, riding her little pony bareback. She’ll call out to the other horses now and then: Come on, boys! Walk on, boys! Or calling each by name if they’re lagging.

By another moss-covered stone wall, through wood where the trees are slim so the light showers in, and through thicker ones with deep shadows.

Someone’s on a hawk walk and we ride under the bird while it looks down from his high perch.

Out into more open, by another hawk–what a sight to see while riding. Along the river, through the tall trees, by fields where Fiona tells me her Puffin and the cow at the fence are not friends. And a lovely house with a beautiful garden. There are chickens behind, and once when they were let out to roam a bit, Puffin was struck with fear. WHAT are THEY????

Fiona shows me the field where Spruce and I think it’s Willow spend their nights, and tells me Spruce loves the brambles and berries, and is often purple around the mouth every morning.

He’s sweet, and being 19 knows his job, so I’m able to look everywhere as we ride, relax.

Around the path, by the Quiet Man house, and aiming back for the stables. Spruce has backed off Puffin somewhat at this point–after Puffin farted directly in his face. There’s some grass, and Willow sees a golden opportunity, slyly veers off the path to snack–the others behind see this as an invitation.

Once that’s sorted out we walk on.

It’s back to the ring to dismount, to give Spruce some strokes and praise. The other horses greeted us loudly on our return, calling out from their stalls. And Tingle is right there with a new stick.

We walk back for a little snack in the tea room, then everyone has a rest for a bit. I put my feet up and check mail, fiddle, read a bit.

And it’s time to go down to the village for dinner. BW points out the little boat flying pink balloons coming toward our shore. We all look out our bedroom window to watch. I think it must be another bride.

And when we leave to drive down, there’s a woman in a pretty white dress.

We head to Ryan’s for a meal, and it’s just right. Warm and dry, easy service, good food.

The sky’s still glowing some, with a few stars out when we get back.

Slept like a rock until nine!

Must get myself dressed as BW’s already back from breakfast and the plans include driving to the other side of the lake and an old fortress with a secret prison.

Fun!

Nora