Like branches on a tree, our lives may grow in different directions yet our roots remain as one.

It has been a whirlwind of exploring in Northern Ireland. From the Giant’s Causeway to Portrush, Lisburn and now back in Dublin as we prepare to fly out tomorrow. A week’s worth of miles have been made hunting up various churches with grave sites in the lush green country of Eire. Traveling narrow country lanes, through small towns and big cities, we have sought for one place after the other.

Along the way we have sampled some amazing food, visited World Heritage sites, enjoyed people watching, and have had some of the best coffee in pretty much every place we visited.

Aside from tromping through graveyards with my best mate, I enjoyed the pastoral scenes that seemed to go on forever. Cows, sheep, donkeys, Shetland ponies…and then there are ruins of castles in which fairy tales have been dreamed and written of.

So as we leave this beautiful land I leave you with  an Irish poem in both English and Gaelic.

Ireland, sir, for good or bad,
There is no other place under heaven.
And no man can speak to sod
Or breathe air without being
Better or worse.

 

Éire, a dhuine uasail, le haghaidh maith nó olc,
Níl aon áit eile faoi neamh.
Agus is féidir aon fhear teagmháil a fód
Nó breathe a aer gan bheith
Níos fearr nó níos measa.