Think of Ireland, and you will visualize green--the term Emerald Isle was coined for a reason. Myriad shades of green manifest themselves in fields, shrubs and trees, crops, mountain slopes, and the surrounding ocean is a deep aquamarine. What a velvety gorgeous land.
Half my ancestry comes from Ireland, almost all of it from the Dingle Peninsula, which is the furthest west point in Europe. In the days of immigration the residents had a phrase, "next parish, America," meaning if you went any further west from Dingle, you'd end up in America. And my ancestors did just that. Unlike the Germans or Scandinavians who arrived on our shores with funds to buy land in the mid-west, the Irish were a defeated, starving people. They arrived penniless and "sold" themselves to New England railroads or the cotton/paper/silk mills.
Minard Castle after the English got through with it. My 3rd gr-grandmother, Nellie Wren, was born circa 1800 up on the mountain in the distance
The mills of New England
The Dingle Peninsula would have been a hard place to leave behind. It was and is a land of white sandy beaches, towering cliffs beat by frothy waves, emerald pastures dotted with sheep and cattle, whitewashed cottages, ancient stone ruins, and colorful pubs. These are sights not to be forgotten.
ruins at Fahan
What heartache the Irish experienced as they cast a final glance at their beloved homeland, knowing they would never return to their lush Emerald Isle.
NOTE: I am writing this while out of town for Thanksgiving. I don't have access to my photographs, so all of the above (except the Lowell Mills) are borrowed from this website:
The Dingle Way website