Waiting -- Cork, Ireland

I'm starting this post from a beautiful empty bedroom at Roisin's family's house in Cork. The colors are rich walnut, dusty pink, and white. It is the epitome of all things antique, from the standing wardrobes to the floral chaise in the corner to the primping table laden with makeup brushes and hairspray. I feel like I could take a picture of this room with the cameraplus app on my iPhone, apply the antique filter, and nothing would change. 

The house overlooks a grey, cream, and pink section of the city, with deep green trees rising between the buildings like many dense pieces of broccoli falling rooted in my childhood dream town of Chew and Swallow. The horizon is a dark blur of greens and browns and greys, and a delicate (nearly translucent) blue sky is stippled with clouds touched with rose.

The last I heard from George was while we were sitting around the kitchen table after Johnny and I had checked on the horses. It is only cordial (and very expected) to invite someone in for tea after helping hands are lent, and it is only cordial (and very expected) for the invitee to oblige. I decided to sit at the kitchen table as well. George had been ignoring me for the majority of the morning, and I felt this might be one of my last chances to listen to the man I'd admired for so long. 

He told Johnny two more stories, both of which involved George cursing people who offended him and them dying/getting breast cancer the next day. Johnny and George laughed heartily at the end of both stories. I contributed a weak, wry chuckle.

The stories appeared somewhat pointed. 

Johnny left. George turned off the light in the kitchen and took his MacBook into his room. I headed upstairs to finish packing my things and changing out the bedding. I began to feel a faint pressure around my left eye.

Perhaps it's George's curse, I smiled a crooked smile. He's getting faster. It's only been a few minutes.

The rest of the day was spent in waiting. Reading and waiting. Stretching and waiting. Walking and waiting. Photographing the beautiful bits of Knockara --

I love how foals have to eat like giraffes

-- and waiting.

Roisin said she'd be by to collect me between a quarter after six and a quarter to seven. I moved my waiting to the gate at six sharp.

No goodbyes were said. I left a note for George reading simply, "Goodbye, George. I'm sorry things didn't work out this time."

Roisin and James drove up in a red sports car at seven o'clock.

"So sorry we're late," she said as she jumped out of the car to give me a hug and lend a hand with my things. "We got a bit lost."

"Don't worry at all, " I replied, so thankful the wretched waiting was over. "I'm just thrilled to see you both."

I climbed into the car and left George and Knockara behind.

Preconceptions:

None.

Challenges: Roisin helped me accomplish my second language challenge!

The Irish equivalent to our American idiom "to be thrown for a loop" is "Bhi mo chroi i mo bheal!"

this translates into, "My heart was in my mouth!"

I also found a flower that looks fairly similar to the Green Alkanet, although I know I'm quite off. Kenton would look at this plant and find loads of differences. I look and just want it to be close enough to count.