We met a man walking his dog, or a dog walking his man, in the churchyard of St. James, home of Other Voices music event. He was an Airedale, the dog that is, wearing a twine lead. His person used the same as a belt. “Are you from away for the big wedding?” the man asked. His voice was throaty, rich and cultured, in contrast to his attire.
On the following day we traveled the Sli Cheann Sleibhe (Slea Head) and Baile an Fheirtearaigh (Ballyferriter) circle and arrived back in Dingle late afternoon – wet three times through. The sun had found its way, in shafts, through the clouds. Passing St. Mary’s Church, on Green Street, we were just in time to see the wedding party emerge. The bridesmaids wore dresses of sage green and carried hydrangea bouquets in the blue color achieved only in Ireland.
As the bride and groom floated down the steps, they were showered with silk petals. The wind picked up a petal and it drifted to where we stood, by Dick Mack’s, watching the pretty spectacle. I reached to pick up the petal, but each time as I reached for it, the petal skipped and fluttered. A young man in the bridal party broke ranks and hurried down the sloping street after the petal, retrieved it and delivered it to my hand with a slight bow. The epitome of sweet gallantry and so easy on the eyes, he was.