Country Diary: The Burren, Ireland

During the recent rainy season I decided to take a quick walk up our back road, beyond Cappanawalla Mountain. There was a fine spell and I wanted to make my yearly pilgrimage to see "my" field of mainly spotted orchids. With all the changes in the region I am always afraid of earth shifters, of land reclamation, of permits to build. What a relief - there they were, clustering in the limestone, hundreds of them. If I were still in my prime I would have leapt for joy.

Then the rain came. My umbrella went up smartly. I have noticed something in rural France - they attach cord to the inside ribs of their umbrellas. So I had done the same with mine. I marched along, holding handle and cord. The wind was beating up to a gale but my device held. I felt like the Golux in The 13 Clocks by James Thurber, who kept repeating: "I have a device to make all well."

I noticed, on my return, wall lettuce with its maroon stems and delicate yellow flower heads, a comparatively late arrival in the Burren from the 1930s. Honeysuckle draped the walls. The hazel trees were rich in nuts. At last I reached home. The rain ceased just long enough to explore one of our front fields. Half the field was strewn with orchids, fragrant ones among pale purple wild thyme and bright yellow lady's bedstraw. I rubbed my fingers against the orchid petals to verify the clove-like scent and crushed leaves of the thyme to luxuriate in the delicious perfume. Then the rain began again. Later that evening I revisited the field. The sun was setting behind Cappanawalla, casting its last light on Finavara opposite. I watched darkness move over the summit and hill flanks except for one deep hollow full of golden light. Gradually it seemed to evaporate until our little world relapsed into shade awaiting the resurgent light of dawn.