Fall (n.): to trip and meet the pavement with one’s hands, knees, or face; the season of autumn; a river’s drop-off point, as in a waterfall.

I’ll give you two guesses as to which ones applied today.  Ready? If you guessed definitions two and three, you win a prize (not really–I’m a college student, ergo, no prizes).

I worked at Salmon Poetry today, mainly organizing files in the archive room and rearranging books in the office.  I’ve now become part of the “pack,” meaning that Jessie’s multitude of dogs will move at my command (as well as sit and stay).  They were well-behaved to begin with, so I doubt I had to try all that hard.

Before working at Salmon, though, I paid a visit to the actual falls of Inis Diomain, down the river from the bridge I cross every day to enter downtown.  I do love waterfalls–they’re wonderful to sit beside and read (although you do have to watch out for spray).

It was a beautiful, if chilly, autumn day.  The wind nipping at your nose; the river flowing beneath you as you cross the bridge; the colors in the sunrise and sunset; the waves rolling into shore at the end of day, surfers riding and falling beneath foam-flecked waters.  Absolutely picturesque.

The best part of all is that I could witness this in Ireland.  Ireland, the land of green fields, where the gray-blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean beat upon its shores and the people are always genuine.

Courtesy of Kaitlyn Baucom
Courtesy of Kaitlyn Baucom

At the end of the day, Kaitlyn and I met up in town and headed down to the promenade to watch the water.  There were some decent waves, and this woman was eager to join the other surfers.

Courtesy of Kaitlyn Baucom
Courtesy of Kaitlyn Baucom

As I said above, I love the bleak look of Ireland in twilight.  The water is cold and gray, the skies above it much the same.  The grass, however, is lush and green, even on the cliffs just above the sea.

Courtesy of Kaitlyn Baucom
Courtesy of Kaitlyn Baucom

There are no oceans where I’m from.  I dislike the smell of the sea–it reminds me of rot, which I assume some of it likely is–but I love the sound of the waves.  It’s not unlike a constant roll of thunder, and I do love thunderstorms.

Courtesy of Kaitlyn Baucom
Courtesy of Kaitlyn Baucom

This is Lahinch at sunset.  There aren’t a lot of words to describe this view–building facades protected from the sea only by a wall and the length of a beach, a valley disappearing into the distance.


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