a lamb, a dog and some fecking cussing

So, today we went to visit E, who is starting a riding for the disabled school/stable with the help of some Mountshannon people (and P, who does a lot of admin type work for our Camphill). It was lovely to be around horses again, and Mat, N and I went on a beautiful walk that went through fairytale woods. Like, actually. Hans Christian Anderson probably had some similar woods near him while he was writing.
Before the walk, though, I saw an ewe and her lamb, who was frolicking about quite happily. He pushed his nose in for some lunch just as we left. Adorable.
Later, back on the ranch, there was a very old dog walking slowly around (think Spring, if you knew her, but hairier). The fur on its head was matted, like it didn't get bathed by the owners of the ranch but just fended for itself. It came up really slowly to me, sniffed and then stood calmly and waited while I petted him gently. And he came back again later, which I took to heart and was really pleased about because I was interesting enough to this old one who's been around for ages to warrant a second pass! Silly, sure, but he was so incredibly calm and gentle and quiet that a bit of his air just seeped into mine and made my afternoon.

Also, yesterday I took the first few steps to make myself legal here as a resident for a year, so I don't get picked up by the garda (police). The immigration officer was a man with a very strong Irish accent, which just made this funnier. While he was filling out forms with me, two other men came struggling into the room lugging some boxes and swearing fit to burst. My garda stands up, all afronted, saying 'stop fecking cussing! it's bad enough I'm cussing in front of her, you don't need to be too!' and so the men traipse out, cussing.
Good fecking times in the garda station.

LOVE.