Small

A big thank you to London, Scotland, and Ireland for accommodating us Canadian tourists; I hope we left behind small footprints and a positive impression. Now one last excursion to share....

Just north of Dublin is a peninsula (once a small island) with a fishing community (about 8,000 folks) called Howth (rhymes with oath), a quick train ride from the city.  

This was our second visit. We had something to finish: the cliff walk. Last time it was raining, so we cut the walk short, but this time? Perfect weather. 

About a week before we visited Ireland the first time (2023), we met someone at a wedding—he was studying medicine in Ireland and told us Howth was his favourite place. We asked, why? He couldn't find the words but his body language said much. We are fans of serendipity and places people get emotional about, so we visited and it became a favourite too. Now my turn...how to describe? 

  🤔Let this good man's clip show you what words can't.

  🤔It's a cleansing breath of a place. 

  🤔It's a retreat, a haven, a resting place; I suspect Dubliners request their ashes be spread in Howth.

  🤔Think of a place that has almost everything: (in this case) incredible views, friendly folks, fresh seafood, street markets with huge brownies, colourful boats bobbing in blue coastline waters, rocky beaches with cold water where people swim anyway, playful otters, ice-cream shops, flowers that grow in cracks along rock walls, unexpected palm trees, a castle, and maybe one busker. Note that I said, almost. Why? Some places have too much, their abundance overwhelms and they don't feel...snug. Plus, setting is a relationship—we must bring something to our most cherished places—an impulse to attach to the stream of life.   

  🤔Like all words sometimes, my words are inadequate, so I will offer this final idea about Howth: my heart just endorses this place.

Quick research reveals that a teen-aged W. B. Yeats lived in Howth. He wrote fondly about it, sharing that he snuck out at night (classic teen move even in the 1880s), and also felt his first unrequited love there. Perhaps his famous poem The Lake Isle of Innisfree has clues to Howth? The poem expresses a longing to escape the urban confines and return to nature, build a cabin, plant a garden, live in "a bee-loud glade," seek peace next to the "water lapping with low sounds by the shore" and then even while stuck in the city hear this cherished place in the "deep heart's core." 

Dear friends, our hearts are small, and some places fill them so well. Whether travel is required or not, I hope you get plenty of time in places your heart endorses.