At Connemara

Connemara is the home of Carl Sandburg, best known for his poetry. His home was a frequent refuge for artists, like Bob Dylan, who could rest in its tranquil environment.

There is a Carl Sandburg quote that he is "still a boyheart, an idealist on his way." That's a great mantra to adopt for myself, I am "an idealist, on my way." For we know that every day brings new knowledge, every experience creates a new terministic screen of which we see the world, every child I teach leaves an indelible stain, every film I watch and every song I hear for the first time creates an emotional footprint. 

The experience at Carl Sandburg's home, Connemara, was an adventure unmatched, moments that spark a desire to drink more goat's milk and to stop and listen to the minute orchestras that nature brings. Idealism is born in watching the leaves take flight on the wind here at Connemara, watching the freckles across Annette's nose when she laughs at our struggles up the hill, in envying Inga's strong and tiny frame scale the mountainside climbing ahead of me, and watching the way the wind swirls the waves of Linda's soft, brown hair, mixing with her chime-bell laughter. Together, we witnessed earth's majesty, gained respect for Sandburg's strong beliefs, and marveled at his many blessings, discovering blessings of my own in his homeplace. 
There is a Carl Sandburg quote that he is "still a boyheart, an idealist on his way." That's a great mantra to adopt for myself, I am "an idealist, on my way." For we know that every day brings new knowledge, every experience creates a new terministic screen of which we see the world, every child I teach leaves an indelible stain, every film I watch and every song I hear for the first time creates an emotional footprint. 

The experience at Carl Sandburg's home, Connemara, was an adventure unmatched, moments that spark a desire to drink more goat's milk and to stop and listen to the minute orchestras that nature brings. Idealism is born in watching the leaves take flight on the wind here at Connemara, watching the freckles across Annette's nose when she laughs at our struggles up the hill, in envying Inga's strong and tiny frame scale the mountainside climbing ahead of me, and watching the way the wind swirls the waves of Linda's soft, brown hair, mixing with her chime-bell laughter. Together, we witnessed earth's majesty, gained respect for Sandburg's strong beliefs, and marveled at his many blessings, discovering blessings of my own in his homeplace.