secret garden

By freespiral

A truly shite day weatherwise - cold, windy, wet, grey - but I nipped into Bantry for some essential bird food supplies, and treated myself to a large bunch of tulips. It was so exciting to be out I came home the long way!
An afternoon on the book - new favourite saint: St Berrihert or Bertyshirt as I've renamed him. Fed up with the Synod of Whitby (come on now school days - 664AD when the date of Easter was changed as were, rather bizarrely, the style of tonsures) St B came over from England and landed up in North Cork. Unfortunately for him there was already a Druid in residence who did not look upon him kindly. A ferocious challenge was devised - a small wooden hut was built and the two were placed in it. The hut was then to be set on fire and whoever emerged unscathed would win the hearts and minds of the locals. The fire was lit, the hut smouldered and burned and St B emerged : not a spot was reddened on him! I fear the druid was less fortunate. There's a message going on here.
Enough saints and the rain not fully lashing, I donned my waterproof kecks and decided to nip round the circuit minor. There was a refusal from Himself. It was indeed blowy but I smiled anew at the eclectic assemblage of sculptures in this garden. The central figure is plaster, I think, but the other two are made out of wire. The elephant is new. There could almost be a caption competition here! There are also lounging hares.

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