June 2013

Ireland | Part 3

The smell of peat. I first glimpsed it in a whiskey distillery 4 years ago. Burned, dark, the odor of pure earth. I still don't understand how chunks of earth can be cut out of the ground and burned, but so it is. That was the smell of our beach holiday in Ireland. We drove to the west coast and slowly off pavement, to gravel, to grassy gravel, to a near field, when we ended up in the middle of some flowers on the seacliffs. The winds pulled us out of the car into the house, where we cooked and …


Ireland's West Coast: Part 2

As with Scotland, the roads in Ireland are skinny, curvy, and spectacular. You get to see views from 360 with all the switchbacks, and although at each turn I thought we might have a head-on, we didn't even graze another car. We ended up climbing hills slowly until we turned onto a gravel road, then a grassy path, which brought us to the cottage we stayed half a week. (I'm posting photos out of chronological order because I'm waiting for the photographer's editorial whims ;). More photos of that…


Driving Ireland: Part 1

It's a dull and hazy day in Brooklyn, and my writing brain seems to be solidly off. I'm much more excited about the farm-fresh caramelized peach ice cream waiting for me in the freezer, but I wanted to share another quick look at our most recent trip to Ireland. It started on a dreamy note when I woke from my surprise upgraded seat (thanks, handsome husband!) in billows of blankets and pillows. Below me? Those green squares of fields marked off with low stones and flecked with sheep. The green I…