Shake off dull sloth.

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Ireland is wearing another of her masks this morning. It’s 5 o’clock and the sun is burning off a light mist that’s rising from the river. The air flowing through my bedroom window has washed away most traces of sleep from my body and the cold shower I’m about to take will deal with whatever sleep remains. The symphony of birdsong is well into its third act and the garden looks so clean. I’ve already been for a potter around the back yard where my vegetables grow and the carrots are looking particularly promising. After I have a shower I’ll take to the country lanes and climb to Terrace Hill, my coign of vantage from whence I can survey the surrounding countryside before returning to wife-made coffee. Our spell of unIrish heat is beginning to wane it seems, but these glorious early summer mornings will continue till August and beyond, with their curious light, freshened air and bucolic delights.