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| Morning view from the deck. |
Cold wind from the sea blew on shore all day making the sixty degree temperature seem much colder. It didn't dissuade us from a body warming tour of the Glenora Distillery, an invigorating walk through the boggy fields to the sea, an exquisite home made lunch, and an enjoyable evening at the Red Shoe Pub. The rest of the crew even managed a nap. I spent nap time reading the latest Daniel Silva novel, which provided me a nice respite into a fictional world. Spy novels and the world of intrigue are a pleasant escape from the insanity of daily news. I sat in the lee of the wind, enjoying the sounds of the breeze roughing up the sea and the land. Bugs bounced off the windows, birds fluttered onto nearby horse troughs, and the constant roar reminded me that there are powers greater than humankind at work. It was restive to be held in the strong hands of nature, buoyed by my belief that while I may rail against my lack of control, I remain assured that there is a real "power" at work in this world. So, therefore art thou happy, Romeo. At the Red Shoe Pub, we enjoyed a nice bowl of seafood chowder, a wee bit of drink, and some excellent toe tapping Scottish fiddle music. Our waitress, a young local lass named Jasmine, said she was studying to become an elementary teacher. She had the smile, the charm, and the work ethic necessary for the job. I hope she makes it. Just a few nights ago, we were served by another young gal, already working as a teacher. Unfortunately, she had to moonlight as a waitress just to make ends meet. It took me back to my first teaching contract. I earned the lordly sum of $14,100/yr. I wouldn't trade a minute of it. However, I remember with some bitter sweet fondness that our first year teaching budget allowed Anne and I the joy of sharing one baked chicken breast for dinner on Sunday nights. Yet here we sat tonight, tapping our toes to Scottish fiddle music, the pub full to the brim with well fed "boomers" just like us. The servers, all young women with smiles about their faces, bounced among us, secretly hoping (I imagine) their future lives would provide such comfort. I hope that for them too, because for us life is truly good, especially today.
This year marks the thirty year anniversary.
The founder kept coming back to this "glen" because of the water in this creek.
They make their single malt whiskey in the fall.
We sampled a wee bit of the fifteen year old.
Spoiled as she is by Blanton's bourbon, Judy didn't care for the single malt.
Before our walk, we enjoyed a home made lunch of mussels, fish cakes, fried red potatoes, and salad.
On our beach walk, we viewed the failed attempt by the locals to make a bridge across the strait. Due to the power of wind, waves, and current, the attempted road was abandoned.
We enjoyed a festive evening with the locals at this pub.
Fish chowder, of course, is a local favorite.
Entertainment was provided by Derrick and Melody Cameron who were delightfully adept.
Iron Man, donning his Scottish tam, agreed the night was a "score".
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