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My chain of thoughts of St. Patrick goes like this: drnking at his well in Ireland; imagining him expelling the snakes; pencil-sized garter snakes unearthed by my landscaper's help digging up my dead tree. They froze and refused to go further. Unlike the snakes St. Patrick expelled, garter snakes are harmless. Try telling that to someone who doesn't speak English digging with their hands .
Castles and clouds. Rain. Did I say rain? Dark green grass punctuated with rocks growing out of the ground begging to be harvested for the next house or fence. Low-growing yellow, pink and purple Primrose expelling winter. Sheep curled on the grass strain our eyes to discern them from rocks. Spring lambs springing stiff-legged; their sweet faces and scrunching their soft coats.
Corned beef and cabbage. Green beer and little green men. Bright colored doors to recognize home. Warm scones, clotted cream, strawberry jam and tea. Friendly,ruddy-faced people. Wish we were there.
Wherever you celebrate, may the luck of the Irish be with you. And as Frances used to say, "May you be in Heaven a half hour before the devil knows you're gone."
2010 Red Convertible Travel Series
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