Couldn't resist putting in a few last photos of Connemara...
Sitting in the farm yard while watching my son zip here and zip there, delighting in the place, I thought back to other times. Soon after my father died, I brought my mother here. She was sick with the AIDS virus and exhausted all the time. Walking up the hill to the barn was about all she could do, but Connemara seemed to bring her great pleasure. A quiet peace came over her and she sat a long time watching the goats and the tourists inspect each other. Mom's own death was less than a year away. Now when I'm at Connemara, I can almost see her here. Time almost overlaps in my heart and I imagine her watching as Eli rubs one of the goat's ears and offers it some hay to nibble.
I'm so glad for this place.
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