Very early, Tuesday morning, June 19
Fine veils of mist floated across the road between Buncrana and Burnfoot. An unpromising thick fog covered the low lying shortcut to Burt, reaching its extent just below the summit, from where I was offered to view beauty unseen in quite motion.
Mist rolled over the hills of the north and west, gliding into the east and south, closing even the faintest glimpse on anything. Dark shapes, taken out of context from a familiar sight, rose from a graciously moving essence of pale, providing perspectives, unknown before. Summits suddenly emerged, only to conceal themselves again in a blink of the eye, immersing, in what seemed their privilege, into the pleasure of a wonderful game. No time, no holding back, but the very core of possibility itself, which may just be the very nature of this hill.
And a few images of the sunset: