|Along the paths of Farmleigh House, Phoenix Park, Dublin.|
|The pumpkin patch in the Farmleigh House gardens.|
In the streets of the metropolis Dublin, I imagine the long skirts of female ancestors sweeping through fallen leaves along the footpaths, and picture the gentlemen's hats being whipped by the wind. The clatter of an ancestor's carriage wheels rolling over damp cobblestone roads plays in my mind, while the scent of burning wood catches my nose, as I envision a scriber ancestor etching words into the side of a Jameson whiskey barrel.
|In Phoenix Park with the Wellington Monument peeking through the ever changing leaves of the trees.|