Here's to the Irish!

Until I looked at my phone this morning, I had no idea that we'd come up on St. Patrick's Day so soon. In my head, I seem to be still in February!  And that's not good--I'm wanting to be in Spring as soon as possible. 

A few years ago--maybe 10 by now--I spent a vacation in Ireland with my BFF, Bonnie. On our first day in country, we went to see Powerscourt, an old English estate with acres and acres of truly amazing gardens. This pic is the approach to the house from one of the pond gardens.

When we finished with this site, we continued on to Glendalough Monastery, founded by St. Kevin in the 6th century, nestled in a valley in the beautiful Wicklow Mountains. 

Many of the buildings remain as well as the graveyards and on a beautiful sunny day, Bonnie and I wandered about for several hours, chatting with other visitors, and thoroughly enjoying ourselves.  We continued on our way  to our B&B in Arklow on the ocean and completed our day with a delicious fish chowder (and a pint of Guiness) at a local pub.

The reason I'm sharing all this with you, other than to give a bit of a history lesson (no test, I promise!) is because of that evening in the middle of the night. Every year I remember this experience on St. Patrick's Day and again today.  I don't particularly believe in supernatural events  but I remain open to the possibility of such things.  On the evening after our visit to Glendalough, I woke up around 3 AM, absolutely wide awake, with an almost overwhelming desire to return to Glendalough.  I don't know how long I was awake with this need--at least 15 minutes or more--but eventually I fell back to sleep. Was it a manifestation of jet lag or was it the ley lines calling to me?  At the time, I had no idea that Glendalough was considered one of the "thin places" of this earth--Bonnie told me that the next morning when I described my experience.  This desire to return to Glndalough stayed with me throughout the trip and for many weeks after. A few years later I was visiting Sedona, Arizona which is another "thin place" and I had a different "paranormal" experience but not nearly as powerful as what I had experienced in Ireland. 

Over the past several days, I've been traveling to Madison where Don and I met up with our son Dan who seems to be settling into his new community very well. We met our friends, Elaine and Dobie, for dinner and I gave Dobie the PPP quilt I wrote about here.  He got a big grin on his face as he unfolded it.

When we got home on Friday afternoon, Johanna and her dog, Fergie arrived and stayed until yesterday afternoon.  She had a couple of cheap throw rugs that she'd picked up but which didn't work in her house and an old tattered fleece blanket that she no longer wanted. Jo asked if I would stitch the rugs together into an packet with the fleece inside so she could use it as a bed for Fergie in her kennel.  It turned out quite well and Fergie laid down on it right away so I think it will serve it's purpose.  I have to admit that as I was stitching the thing, I kept remembering that saying that goes something like, "Asking me to patch something is like asking Michelangelo to paint your bathroom."  Hah!

I resumed stitching the binding on the Veteran's quilt when I got home from Madison and last night I finished it!  I have to make a label, stitch it on, and then it's totally ready to go to it's new home. Yea!  Another finish on my list!

I also finished embroidering the May block of my Year in the Garden project . . .

and began on the June block.  I'll be stitching this one as I watch Masterpiece tonight--if they've finished the PBS fund drive. If they haven't, I'll see what I can find on Netflix--there's always something on Netflix, right?

So Happy St, Patrick's Day to everyone--enjoy your corned beef and cabbage, soda bread and a pint of Guiness for me.