What is it about the light in southwest Kerry, the way it tricks the eye with clouds and fleeting sungleams, so that in an instant grey-green sea is changed to shimmering blueness, green-grey hills transfused with deepest purple? This is a place of mercury, of shifting boundaries. Hedgerows redress winter gloom with summer lushness. Fuschia and Honeysuckle twine their fragrence, guiding roads that wind forever seawards. This is a place unbound by definition, its essence the quick-silver light, the transformations, the taste of salt left upon the tongue, the sharp gull-shriek slicing the ocean's roar, the sense of something constant at the heart of flux and fury
