There are sheep. Everywhere. The vision I had in my mind of green rolling hills covered in lambs was true.
Claire's cousin, a wee boy named Richard (who is actually an old soul and the most adorable person) was taking care of their family's herd of lambs.
TINY LITTLE DIRTY WET LAMBS. GLORY!
So one day we went to fulfill a lifelong dream I never knew I had, and hold tiny lambs.
What should one wear on an excursion into a muddy field on a rainy day amongst mammal excrement and livestock germs?
If you answered "Wellies, of course!" Then, CLEARLY, You is kind, you is smart, and you is important.
Apparently it's not something you and I share, though.
Because I wore ballet flats without socks.
Here is a sheep that I photographed after we pulled to the side of the road. And I caught her MID-BLEAT. Obviously, she was saying the lamb password from Babe.
First, Richard took us to one of the barns and got the bottles ready for food time.
Then, we walked over and opened the gate, and saw them:
They came bounding toward us, I'd like to believe it was because their hearts were swelling with the opportunity to make a new friend. It may have had more to do with the excitement of escaping - and milk. Whatever.
Five years from now, will I regret my boyfriend watch that makes me look like I'm trying to be a part of The Sopranos? No.
You'll notice, my lamb is smiling in every photo.
Comfortable in its natural environment, and in the presence of new friends - this lamb decided to pee for my camera.
There you have it.
The most perfect Irish day.