Clouds defeat the struggling sun while I work out. I’m just doing my cool down when JR and Griffin deliver me bacon and toast. Nothing like having personalized room service in a very timely fashion. Apparently I was in the shower when Jason brought me Diet Cokes, but he persisted. Mmm, cold caffeine.

We gather as a group for our drive to Ross Errilly in what’s more than a mist, less than a drizzle. Both cars miss the turn onto the snake-skinny road between fields and houses, but we turn around and there we are, easing down the road as the skies try to clear and some light glimmers through the gloom.

This ancient friary is one of my favorite sites, and it’s all the more impressive under glowering skies. Beyond it, cows graze on the green undeterred by its major spookiness.

Inside, Kayla insists no one step on the graves, which is impossible as much of the floor in the main entrance is made up of those stone slabs. It’s a huge place, full of tiny openings, larger archways, skinny stairs to nowhere.

Some newer graves here, too, with flowers, and slabs so old you can barely read the etchings on them. We wander everywhere, taking our separate routes, meeting up as paths criss-cross. The sun wins the next battle as we explore.

The air here is filled with old souls and spirits.

The last time we were here, Griffin was just a baby and more interested in trying to eat little rocks than wandering. This time, he’s fascinated by all the little rooms, and in his imagination decorates them.

When we head out we aim for the little ruined abbey just down the road. And the last time we were there, a crew was digging a fresh grave. BW asked if he could take a photo, and they happily posed for him with their shovels.

It’s a seriously great shot.

A sign reminds us to keep the gate closed as cows will wander in otherwise and destroy the graves. A little wandering around graves old, old and new, so many with flowers, or gardens planted over them. This always touches me. Jason tries his best to find the grave we saw being dug, but we don’t think we found one that fits the timing.

Off again, and we hope to see Glebe Stone Circle. The GPS takes us to a driveway. Well, that won’t work. We hunt for a pull off, but have no luck. A little more research is required, so we head back to Cong for lunch and shopping. And in that order as some are hungry.

We take up two tables, and here’s my vacation lunch glass of wine. I’m for the veg soup and chips, more than enough as dinner’s really not that far off. There’s a match on the TV—we think rugby, and it’s Mayo v Meath.

Naturally as we’re in Mayo, the crowd has their favorite. Mayo goals bring on cheers. Meath’s silence. Sadly, though from what I can tell it was hard-fought, Meath triumphs.

And off we go to shop. Since it’s Sunday several places are closed, but it’s nice to wander with the sun out, climbing the steep, skinny sidewalks, lingering by the river of the pretty village famed for The Quiet Man.

And I score another Christmas gift.

Back to the river where we parked, and for several to stand in two counties at once on the Galway/Mayo line. There are pots of enormous and colorful petunias, geraniums, spills of Creeping Jenny.

It’s an easy walk from the castle to Cong so any of us who want can stroll down whenever, or we’ll come as a group, get another meal, maybe some music.

Back home, and some down time. I shed my boots, check email. A twenty minute lie down, then freshen up for dinner. My phone rings while I’m putting on shoes. Kat. They’ve tried to come get me, but I didn’t answer. Didn’t hear! But I’m pretty much ready. I’d’ve been ready quicker if I’d known my Kat was waiting outside my door.

Off we go in the sunny, breezy evening across to The Cottage. Jason and Griffin are in the maze fighting zombies, the rest wait at our table inside.

Logan goes for another steak, Colt for linguini. I’m after the catch of the day. Savanna and I have Bellinis. Ahhh. Not sure on the other choices, but I know everyone’s happy. Since Colt inhaled his pasta, I tell him he should taste my fish. He does, approves, so since I’ve hit my limit, I give him a nice chunk. On my other side, Logan’s pretty much inhaled his steak. And he finishes off what’s left of my fish.

That doesn’t mean there’s not room for dessert! They have profiteroles, and I talk Logan into trying. Since all he left on the plate was a little smear of chocolate, I’d say he liked it.

A little outside maze adventure. Apparently we have to cut down two hundred and fifty trees, on the diagonal. I tell the younger set they can wander, walk down to Cong, try the bar here, whatever. It’s just a beautiful evening.

Me, I want my pjs.

Today’s calling for rain and more of it. Some are planning to try the indoor pool. We who are recently tatted shouldn’t swim. I think I might write a couple hours.

Nora