Day 15: An Ordinary Day in Westport is Perfectly Special

Friday night, after I wrote, we went walking in the sunshine.  It stays late here until around 10:15 and we headed out of the Quay away from town.  We walked out to a pub we'd been to last spring.  We had seen signs for it on our walks and went out one night to find it on foot.  We got part of the way there and were enveloped by total darkness on the roadside.  The sidewalk disappeared and we couldn't see the pub or anything else.  We headed back and ate somewhere else that night.  In the daylight, we saw where the sidewalk picked up and were glad we'd not pursued our journey that night.  We went back one night and I remember writing in my journal at the bar.  It was cold outside but the pub was warm and the soup very fine.  The lights were soft like candle light. Aside from the TV in the corner, you'd be hard pressed to see yourself in the present day.  We headed home that night enveloped in the dark: edging along the road in the rain, overcompensating for the few cars that passed us.  It was a lovely, lovely night.

Friday night was sunny and bright and the light that shone made the greens vibrant and lush.  We decided to go out to the same pub, marveling in the sunshine.  I spied a lovely donkey grazing in a field surrounded by thick hedges of pink roses.  Croagh Patrick almost sparkled in the magic hour sun.  We had bowls of what we think is the best seafood chowder in town and wandered back the winding road, remembering how we'd edged along the road in the cold, wet dark. 

A new pub had opened in our absence-- or, maybe, more accurately, an old pub re-opened.  They had a large patio overlooking the bay.  Croagh Patrick blinked in the brightness.  Dale likes to take pictures of "the perfect pint," perfection having to do with the place and setting of the pint as much as the beer itself.  Here's my take on the perfect pint.  We sat and took it all in.  We didn't say much but when we did, it was about gratitude and wonder. 

On Saturday, we slept in a bit, I went for a run, Dale went for a walk on the Greenway.  We had breakfast and went out to read and have a coffee at the cafe next to our apartments.  The proprietoress remembered us: always nice to be reminded that this isn't all a dream.  In the afternoon we read our new Irish books in our airy apartment with the windows open to the lovely fresh air and the bleating of sheep.  At one point a crow the size of a well-fed tom cat was on the verge of hopping into our apartment from our balcony.  I persuaded him it was a bad idea.  I'm reading Fallen by Lia Mills, beautiful and heartbreaking.  Dale is reading Donal Ryan's The Thing About December.  

After a lovely lazy afternoon, we met our friends D & J at the bay-side pub we'd been to on Friday.  We laughed and teased each other.  Meeting them last year and reconnecting with them this year is something for which we're both incredibly grateful.  From there, a nice dinner at one of our other haunts from last year and then pints at one of our favourite pubs from last time.  The people are kind, warm, friendly and jaggedly funny.  The four of us seemed to take turns noting that it seemed like no time at all had passed since last year. Behind the bar this pub has postcards from various visitors, and when we got home, we mailed one.  It was pretty cool to hold our postcard in our hands.  When we sent it, I know we were both wondering if we'd ever return and if we did return, if we'd be able to recapture the magic of our first visit.  If I could send a postcard back to our last year selves, I think it would say "worry not... it wasn't all a dream." We ended the night listening to a man singing country music at another favourite place.  D & J requested that he play Galway Girl for the visiting Canadians.   J pushed me and D out on the dance floor and we jived to one of the last songs of the night.  I told J earlier in the night:  "I am a very happy Heidi."   And a very happy Heidi I am.  

Yesterday, Saturday, was the summer solstice.  I was once told that you should always do something special on the Solstice and I've tried to take that advice each year.  This year, I think I did do something very special indeed.