I will take this column out on a cold day next January and recall the last day of August in Donegal. The sky is blue, the lanes are flanked by branches drooping under the weight of blackberries; stop and sample, and they are sweet and the juice stains your fingers blood red. Although it’s a sunny day here’s a nip in the air, the bay is calm but the Atlantic beyond is choppy with white horses racing towards the shore line.

Only weeks ago the hills were covered with purple rhododendron mixed with the butter yellow whins, now montbretia brightens the landscape, warm orange with some white cow parsley, leaves on the trees drifting down in the breeze all making a pretty picture.

The sun has warmed the grass and there’s a fresh smell in the air and in a delightful cameo a couple of days ago a young couple were married on the beach with six cows watching from the sidelines and there were dolphins in the bay on Saturday.

Was this the calm after the storm?

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