Udder Magic & Mischief

A beautiful day, we headed for the hills - a walk along the old road towards Kilcrohane then up onto the mountain, then down towards these and the lake and then back on the old road. We saw 
larks
stonechats
ravens
a very frisky cow who had been left in the field when her mates had been taken back to the farm (her fault, we spoke to the farmer and his wife)
a standing stone
a quartet of ladies gathered around the holy well
the ruins of a bardic school
4 llamas
the wee ruined house where St Crohan is said to have slept with his legs outside the building (had to be character building)
a small dog swimming wearing a cone of shame (it had an allergy)
blue blue sea
and a ton of wildflowers - I was most thrilled to see the butterworts were out (bodán meascáin).
This little one is sitting happily in a very boggy looking bog. They have small but bright blue flowers on a long stem which emerges from a bright green rosette of leaves. Did you know - they are carnivorous! Apparently there's not enough nutrients in bog so they exude a sticky substance onto those bright leaves and give off an enticing musky smell, a poor fly comes down for a look, gets stuck and the leaves enfold around it and gobble it up!
Why the name I hear you cry? Well, it was believed that rubbing the juices of the plant onto cows' udders would protect them from magic and mischief.

Talking of magic and mischief - you remember how I couldn't find my car keys on returning from New Zealand? And how Himself tramped up to Cork and got some new ones. Well ......looking in my bag yesterday, what should I find! Yes, the original keys. This is beyond weird for I emptied that bag a hundred times, opened every pocket and shook it. And Himself did the same. Independently. And now the keys have appeared. This has happened before -  Ada the cat, burial, panic.