Posted on 08/25/2015 at 8:02pm


Morning light filtering through lace curtains on this most recent journey to Ireland, nudged me from deep slumber on this cool and very damp, 50° morning in late May. With wool sweater, hat, scarf, and tall rubber boots, called Wellies, I walked carefully trying to avoid the large puddles on the road of the 12th century castle. A very small, young, red Irish fox with a distinctive round head and pointed ears, walked towards me and then sat in the middle of the gravel road staring right at me. There was a mist hanging, and the cold dampness barely revealed that spring had arrived. I stood silently, hoping he would not run from me. Moss-covered, grey stone walls, as tall as I am, with multitudes of  tiny purple spring flowers, were blooming from every crack along the wall, bordering the glistening path between the two of us. A muffled silence was hanging in the air, and I am sure that time slowed. I consciously tried not to move at first, studying his unique shape and size. Ever so carefully I moved a bit closer to him into the morning mist, and the diminutive, wild-animal hurriedly turned and bounded effortlessly into the tall grass. I saw his proportionally long tail and definitive gait, but only for an agonizingly brief moment. His curiosity with me, strong enough to allow him to pause, sitting and staring directly at me, was now etched into my mind, and the silhouette of an inquisitive young wild animal beaming at me in the Irish morning mist, left me yearning for more.



  1. Joan Cornwell says:

    Sharon, I am afraid I hardly ever get on my E-mail but am thinking of retireing in September. These pictures and your story made me want more too. I told Bruce that if I could ever afford it, I want to go with you on one of your journeys and get some painting lessons from you. I think of you often, you will always be in my heart. Love, Ethel

    • shaveart says:

      Ethel, I have tried to reach you several times, I was worried about you. I am so glad you are all right! Please stay in touch with me. If you retire you should come to Italy next September with us. You would love the place we stay! You would not have to worry about anything! I too think of you, and I am so glad we reconnected several years ago. It means so much to me that you have not forgotten me. Love to you always, Fred.

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