The Luggage Diaries: Days at Doonbeg

County Clare, what gives?? Rain, rain, rain. Well, as the saying goes, "you don't come to Ireland for the weather." We've been here for four nights and it's probably easier to count the pockets of sunshine we've had, as opposed to trying to gauge how much it's rained.

Great resort and golf club on the west coast called, The Lodge at Doonbeg. It's been a great place to chill, just relax and be comfortable doing a whole lotta nothin'. We're off to London tomorrow to round out the trip with a couple of nights in my favorite city in the world, and that will require a crack-o'-dawn flight, which means I'm off to bed soon. I'll let the photos tell the story.....

Thank you, South of Ireland, for justifying my toting of the wellies in my baggage.

Supposedly the Irish say that smelling a turf fire "makes the heart rise," and I wholeheartedly agree. Every morning we would walk up through the chilly, drizzly rain to the hotel for breakfast, this would be the first thing we'd see and inhale as we walked through the door. I had to walk straight up to it and just have a moment, every single time.

Basket of turf logs. Turf (or peat) is harvested straight from the ground in Ireland. If this country held a colder climate, it would eventually turn to coal, but since it doesn't, they dig it out of bogs and stack it up in fields to dry. When it burns, it just glows the steadiest glow and the smell of it makes me well up with coziness.

Apparently, doonbeg is a slug paradise. Truman is pleased.

Mamie proudly holding a slug. These slugs were a big event, I'm just telling you.

Sorry, girl. all I can think here is "ew."

Seriously massive snails. And again, ew.

Walker having a go at the driving range with Dean. Still have some work to do, buddy.

My mushroom soup dinner--I always associate mushroom soup with Ireland. So comforting. And I really have a thing for mushrooms.

Hey, sweet baby donkey friend.

Donkey friend is totally wanting to be in this photo, is he not?

One of the guys at the golf club offered to drive the five of us around the course at Doonbeg. They used zero heavy machinery for the shaping of this course. The contours are how God intended them. I'm not a golfer, but this kind of makes me want to be. Dean loved playing it, even in the wind and rain.

It was slightly windy on this day.

Again, I'm not a golfer, but this I can appreciate.

Huge grassy valley in between a couple of holes. The guy that drove us around told Truman and Walker to take off running down into the valley and meet us on the other side, which they were very happy to do. First, how many prestigious golf courses in the US would volunteer one of their guys to drive a family all the way around the course and then second, encourage boys to take off running for the pure pleasure of it? Irish people are so dang chilled. It is refreshing.

Making it to the other side of the valley--they were really far away!

I had exactly 42 pictures almost exactly like this that Mamie took with my phone one morning, while I slept. Hm.

Hats. Walking sticks. Faces.

This face, that hat, those eyes.

Quick, look! it's a sunny pocket!! Headed straight to the mighty Cliffs of Moher. The cliffs were amazing, but the wind was EPIC.

Ohhh, this gorgeous site as we drove up the coast to the Cliffs of Moher. Completely swept away by the sight of it and made Dean pull over so I could snap it.