Killarney Me Softly

After a run of castles and cities, Killarney was a day to breathe. We slept in a little, said good morning to Kerry, and headed out into the national park.

It is the kind of parkland that makes you understand why people write songs about this island: mountains standing back behind the fields, a stream running through the trees, a bench positioned exactly where you'd want to sit and do nothing.

So we sat, and did nothing, for a while.

The park ran up toward St Mary's Cathedral, spire and all,

and then Ireland did the most Irish thing available to it and began to rain. We crossed a little footbridge over the stream with the weather coming in and took the hint.

A short one today, but a good one. Tomorrow we head north, and there's a ferry involved.