Today I stepped off the boat not to return untill February. As per usual my stalwart companion was there to help ease the transition from boat to land. Finbarr picked me up with all the stuff to come off the boat. Once in his attic we headed out for a tour of his farm. The place is magical with little areas hidden away from each other. Perfect if you wanted to build a secluded house or little chalet. The picture above is taken from a little path along a ridge that sepparated two parts of the property. Kissing trees! I got the full tour. Met the cows, discovered a dead sheep, and also met a neighbour whose accent was really hard to understand. A farmer's dialect. Not to underestimate him though. He looked fierce in the dying light and the wind thrashing his rain coat behind him. He made a dramatic figure on the landscape. I wanted to take his picture but was afraid to offend. The converstation was on the dead sheep. Finbarr and I retrieved his 12 cows from the hilly pasture up on the mountain side and brought them down to a lower field. Tomorrow off to cork and the weekend's events before flying back to London and Canada.