More on Ireland. With Dressage.

Ok, Mes Aimees, some pictures from my own personal camera. Not a lot, mind you, I lack photography skills, but some...

First however, a Link! I got this while in Ireland. Do you recall in the mad days before I left, I spent two mornings helping my Riding Teacher work on a Freestyle Dressage routine for an event she was doing? (Well, if you have forgotten, I did) Helped her pick out some clothes for it as well, including lending a handy corset and pirate shirt.

Here's the Video, of She Who Owns It All and her horse, Aliandro, riding what we came up with. If you don't know dressage intimately, you will love this. If you DO know dressage, honesty compels me to mention we did put this together in two days, with only two riding sessions, and the horse had only been back to work for three weeks after an injury. You will know what I speak of. And love it anyway. I do. And more importantly, I want to ride like that. And look that good doing it. More than want: I am going to. Check in next summer for a Pas De Deux. (The bar has been SET)

Find it HERE

As far as the first picture here. No idea WHAT it is, but I am calling it the Death Star of Dublin.

Onto a Graveyard. Hands down, this wins for Strangest Thing I Have Ever Seen On A Grave Yet. Not sure I need to say anything else, really. Its all there.

I like how this sign is right up on the fence, not buried in the fine print of a contract, or simply understood, but POSTED, so there are no misunderstandings about Common Graves.

There were other Signs in this Graveyard, if one knows where to look. Like this for the Low Road (or walk as it were) Bram Stoker's Mother and Brother were buried here, I was reliably informed by a local Bram Stoker expert. (Who was originally from Wisconsin, as it turned out)

And then, just to be clear about things, we have the Long Walk. Poetic. Sweet even. Much in the same way as "Taking the Dirt Nap" might be.

Now, most people here, are, as you can believe, quite Dead. And peaceful, but that is no reason not to have a Guinness Walk. Share a beer with your loved ones. Remember them fondly.

And a Restroom. With a nice cup of tea afterwords.

And then we have other signs, which tell us things that are certainly not widely understood. Not sure I understand even now, but being in a foreign country, I was glad of any advice, and certainly never turned my back on morning toast after that little warning.

This is a Bunny. From Hell, I believe. And a scarf. They are all over Ireland these days. In the Library Pub in Dublin. With Octokittys. As far as WHY I have this Bunny From Hell and WHAT exactly Octokittiies are, I believe I shall leave it to your imaginations. (Which will NEVER be as strange as the truth, I'm afraid.)

I loved Ireland. Every minute. More than loved, I left bits of my heart all over.



But I am also glad to be home.

Love and Horses and Ireland and I am sure home now!
Lorraine