Monday, January 19, 2015

Cold Hands Warm Hearth

There is nothing like the lovely scent of burning turf to remind you that you are in Ireland.  As I stepped in from the bitter cold I felt the warmth of the stone fireplace and the kind souls gathered around.

After getting my pint I took a seat in one of the large worn leather chairs.  I could feel my body warm and relax as I settled in.  Just then, a dear gentleman approached the fire and put his glass on the hearth.  "I'm not English", he whispered to me.  "It's the warm glass that feels good on my cold hands". 

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