Carrying the Kelp – excerpt – 1912

The district known as the Burren is one of the bleakest spots in Ireland. The whole country seems petrified, as if a devastating blast from the Atlantic had turned it into stone. Then, nature appears to have repented her roughness and the cold monotony of her hand-work; for, after laying a groundwork of rocks, she covered it with a carpet of exquisite and delicate loveliness. Feathery fern, autumn-tinted bramble, golden moss, geranium, harebells, and blue scabious run riot over all, and in the damp patches between the grey stones, silvery bog cotton waves in the breeze…