Hanging the wash out in the rain

Ireland extends accepted ideas of geo-physical beauty to the breaking point. Luke, age 10, Scotch mother, Irish father, likes to swim in the sea near Portsalon and won't come out of the water until he's almost all blue. His parents watch him from the shore, take pictures as he dives into the water over and over from the pier, and buy him an ice cream when he finally decides he's had enough. Down the beach a little bit another Irish boy makes sandcastles like he's already serious about creation and destruction, shoveling sand into a small blue bucket, turning the bucket upside down and tapping it with a small blue shovel, lifting the bucket to behold the perfect tower of his making. When baby brother knocks his construction over with a swift kick, the older boy swats him and then quickly returns to his work, re-making tower after tower until everything he'd done before is done again, only better this time. Ireland's in good shape, as strong as its boys and girls, heading into the future.