Right on the edge down what would only be called a track elsewhere but is a road in Donegal..
...is the little harbour simply known as Port.
The beach is made of pure white pebbles...
and there is nothing between it and America but the Atlantic.
An elemental and soulish place to be.
...and on the way back to civilisation I spotted this magnificent rook
fly/hopping from place to place.
...in a field of bog cotton...
I love crows anyway...but to see this wonderful example of the crow family was to say the least ...