Bacan ban

We've just returned from a mighty walk. It was meant to be a short one but we parked the car at Dromnea and headed off across the mountain, walked along small roads, passed old overgrown farms and new bungalows with immaculate lawns, down across the road and down to the shore, passed the lake, up on to the cliffs and along moorland. Spectacular and very boggy. We saw all kinds of interesting things:
a pure white cat half way up the mountain looking furtive
a sentinel fox watching us from above
an over grown ring fort laced with foxgloves
an unlocated children's burial place amidst potato ridges
a stone alignment
the remains St Crochan's cell (very small, apparently he lay with his feet outside the tiny building - there's saints for you)
and a profusion of flowers - especially fine are the tiny deep yellow bog asphodel, the bright blue field scabious and the swathes of soft white bog cotton.
I gathered a large handful of sea samphire which we will eat with our fennel risotto himself is now preparing.
Son number 1 has nicked my car, and headed off with a bag full of impressive camera equipment intent on doing some time lapse stuff.
And -sssshh - there was only a teensy smattering of rain and it feels fairly warm!
Having said all that, today's blip is of a waterlily on the big pond.They've just come out and although most are white , this one is tinged with pink. I was finding out what my camera can do - all sort sof exciting things in fact, but fish eyed waterlilies are wrong - the hdr one where I wobbled was quite interesting but would make you dizzy.

When at dawn she sighs, and like an infant to the window
Turns grave eyes craving light, released from dreams,
Beautiful she looks, like a white water-lily
Bursting out of bud in havens of the streams.
When from bed she rises clothed from neck to ankle
In her long nightgown sweet as boughs of May,
Beautiful she looks, like a tall garden-lily
Pure from the night, and splendid for the day.'

From 'Love in the Valley' by George Meredith (1828 - 1909)