The first days of the new year have bought a reprieve from storms Eva , Desmond, and Frank which battered the western shores with a ferocity few of us can remember.

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Having enjoyed a glorious October and November when the island reigned supremely in the beautiful light and unseasonable temperatures we are now paying for those blissful days with the wettest December on record.

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Alas there is a light ahead at the end of the tunnel. Already the days are slightly longer as mid winter has gone. As you walk along the backroads one can observe some growth. Pheasants whose numbers have increased over the years are much more visible, as well as audible birdsong. There is that eerie beauty of shafts of light on wet glistening limestone that makes Aran a place of solace at this time of year. A harsh beauty in whose austerity the many tones of grey affects one like a silent prayer. Lamenting the passing of last summer with the haunting voice of Irala O Lionaird singing LCaoineadh na dTrí Muire (The Lament of the Three Marys) – iarla O Lionaird

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Come and renew the spatial and spiritual pleasures of Aran.

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