The Hill of Tara > Audio on Patreon
It was the first day in Ireland, the kind of day that blurs after a long flight and little sleep. Our friends were driving us north to their home from Dublin. Somewhere along the highway, they pulled off and said, “Let’s stop here, there’s food, coffee, and there’s an old historical site, maybe something interesting to see.“
At first glance, there was a cute country store and restaurant on a medium-sized hill, with a narrow parking lot and washrooms. I was glad to stretch my legs and let the first sights and scents of Ireland touch me. The tiredness I felt eased as I studied the landscape. The valley stretched out below, and I marveled at the cows grazing free, Holsteins. I commented that back home in Canada, cows are locked away in barns. It made my heart happy seeing them at peace on the land. Already, Ireland was showing me something different, something freer.
Inside, the café was slow, friendly, buzzing with tourists and locals. We were seated and ordered our lunch. While waiting, I wandered into the gift shop up front. Still dazed, I noticed that everywhere I turned, one word followed me: Tara. Shirts, mugs, magnets, books. Tara. There were even containers of crystals, sage, and feathers. This was my kind of shop! I hurried back into the restaurant and asked, “Are we at the Hill of Tara?” My friends laughed. “Yes, Tom. We thought you might find it interesting.“
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