© 2018 Lynn Abbott
I dreamed of the Emerald Isle throughout my childhood. A truly gifted bard, my Irish grandfather ignited my imagination with his stories.
In fact, Grandpa had actually been to Cork to kiss the famed Blarney Stone. And so, during the early 1990s, I made my pilgrimage as well.
When I disembarked the English ferry and stepped on Irish soil, I carried with me my picture postcard dreams. I longed to see the rolling green hillsides that spilled down to sweeping shorelines.
With high hopes, I began my journey by car.
I was sorely disappointed. All those beautiful lanes were circumscribed by old stone walls and hedges–hedges that made it impossible to see any distant horizon from my car window.Instead of reveling in the open countryside, I saw only the road immediately before me…and the hedge.
I suppose hedges…
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