That’s me today – guests leaving, still some here, lots to do, no time to do any of it in…..
Short and sweet today, folks.
Favorite memory from Ireland:
We were walking in Glengariff Park, a nice trail along a stream. He lagged behind to look at birds while I went ahead exploring a bit. As I came to the foot bridge over the stream back to the parking area, there was a family with a dog, and a woman holding a six-week-old puppy wrapped in her coat.
But that wasn’t the memorable part – it was what was behind them. There in the grass behind the bridge was a sheep- a noisy, bleating sheep that was moaning and looking all over as though he’d lost something. He couldn’t be soothed. He walked up and down the shore of that stream, glancing anxiously, bleating loudly. When it was obvious his people weren’t returning, he took to the road. He went down the road that skirted the stream (and the trail) like a sheep on a mission. When my husband returned, we hopped in the car and decided to head in the same direction. There he was, one parking lot down, still searching, still fussing up a storm. I tried calling him over, but when he realized I wasn’t his person, he made a sharp left turn and continued down the road.
They really are like pets sometimes.
Back tomorrow sometime.
Oh dear… and we don't know if the sheep every found his people do we… I'm too sentimental sometimes… or this is a fine writing prompt.
No, it really was happening. His people were on the trail. It was a short trail, so I'm sure he found them – or they found him – eventually. 🙂