Ireland

One day, I'm go-inn to Ire-land.  With green all around, the bleats of the sheep, and the wind through the valleys. Think of the waving grass through the hills, the wild flowers in the wood, and the Irish music; the folklore, the accents.  Think of the story-teller in the orphanage, sitting on a stool with his pipe, tell-inn uh-way to the wee little children.  Think of the old stone castles, mysteries that ever lie within them.

Well, I looked up the news in Ireland to find it very modern.  Too modern.  Technology everywhere!  I don't want to go.  I'd rather get away from technology, by going to the Amish community.  I suppose I can read all I want about Ireland's beautiful history from my small library.

At least I won't have to pay thousands of dollars to get plane tickets.  I missed the early nineteen hundreds.  Oh well.  At least I don't have to go through World War I, the Great Depression, World War II, or the potato shortage in Ireland.  I'm right where I'm supposed to be.

Got two books; a biography of Queen Mary; Queen of Scots, and the Irish Way, two nonfiction books from the shadowy corners of the small quaint library not far from my house.