Well, live and learn. There are several versions of the song, “Galway Bay.”
There’s the slow, slightly sappy classic popularized by Bing Crosby and sung here with a slightly faster tempo (and within a landscape I recognize!) by Foster and Allen.
There’s a rude riff on the classic, generating a drinking song. That’s where slightly sappy will take you, given enough exposure.
And there’s the classic version, blessedly shortened by Johnny Cash. Less can be more. Continue reading
Synchronous serendipity strikes again. This week, a conjunction of ideas about schools and teaching.
Here’s Prince Ea‘s YouTube video — What is School For? — which I found through a Seth blog on the importance of inconvenience in education.
Here’s Ted Dintersmith’s TED talk in Fargo ND, with a call to action related to his documentary, Most Likely to Succeed.
Here’s Jim Taylor’s blog about teachers, with the best joke ever about teaching:
A Sunday school teacher wanted to stimulate participation, so she asked,
“What’s furry and climbs trees?”
None of her students ventured an answer.
She tried again: “It collects nuts for the winter.”
Still no answer.
“It’s red, or grey, or black, and has big front teeth.”
“I know the answer is supposed to be Jesus,” the bravest boy finally offered,
“but to me it sounds a lot like a squirrel.”
You’re very black and white.
Somehow I know this unsolicited comment isn’t a compliment. I consider the possible replies.
You’re a fuzzy thinker.
I guess there’s only so many things you can do to distinctivize a large stone residence that must also be defended against armed attack, not that either task has come my way much — the distinctivizing or the defending. Add to that the regrettable effect of grey skies on grey stone and, after a while, the castles all look the same to me.
In trying for different perspectives, it’s easy to forget to take the basic ID shot. Oops . . .
Glenveagh Castle
Lismore Castle
Blarney Castle
At home, I wait for good weather to kayak, or to go for a walk, or to take photos. On a trip, I take what I get.
On this day at Glenveagh National Park in County Donegal, I get recurring bursts of wind and rain interspersed with sunny periods. It makes for dramatic exposures, but no shots of reflections of the surrounding hills in the Loch — the iconic image from this area, judging from the photos featured on the official website. Taken, I assume, by someone who was more-or-less at home and who had the luxury of waiting for blue skies and no wind to ruffle the water.
What’s that purple flower?
Several of us stare down at the purple in question.
If it weren’t September, I’d say it was a crocus.
I take a few photos and move on. Between social activities supporting a family wedding, we’re on a flying visit to Glenveagh National Park and don’t have time to track down any of the gardeners who are, clearly, employed in these formal gardens.
A later search using Google Images offers a “best guess” of spring crocus: clearly not, given the time of year, but it does help by confirming that “crocus” reaction. My best guess is that it’s an autumn crocus.
OK, I made up that name. Identifying gulls is neither my skill nor my favourite pastime.
As we wandered the streets of Dublin for a few hours, we happened on a park with a pond. I watched several streaky brown gulls perform a nifty manoeuvre, jumping from a sitting position on the water to dive beak first into the water. Kinda like this . . .
Any day when I can add a bridge to my collection is a good day.
A signature bridge — the Samuel Beckett Bridge in Dublin qualifies — is an even better day.
The Glaswegians give fun names to their bridges; Dubliners give nicknames to public sculpture. Herewith, Anna Livia, personifying the River Liffey which passes through Dublin. AKA the Floozie in the Jacuzzi.
She has good core muscles, at any rate.
Posted: 2025 Aug 20
