. . . Kilarney Church . .
I circle the town, travelling 16 miles through Killarney's mountain trails
to lakes where wild violet rhododendrons bloom on 20-foot gnarly trees with
mossy trunks. On a steep hard climb sweating over the Gap of Dunhoe, sheep
graze peaceably in ancient rocky meadows. On the road, I meet all the carriage
horses of Killarney, coming home to pasture. Later, I watch a bit of the
Irish Open Golf Tourney in Killarney. Several noisy caddies share the hostel
dormitory. I miss the days when my brother and I played golf with Dad.