The first two photos are part of a series, a facsimile copy of one of Yeats' poems.
No swans (or hares, we've seen those here before) to be seen - all I found was three swan feathers. And despite the fact that apparently it has been a very dry summer down there, the lake was quite full, and towards the end of it there were parts where the narrow trail was submerged.
There was an amazing thicket of wild raspberries - ripe, juicy, sweet. I wished I'd had something to collect some in. As it was, we just enjoyed a passing snack.
1 comment:
There's nothing like warm raspberries fresh off the vine.
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