Looking left from the doorway of the cottage whose address is Cinn An Bhaile, Inis Meain, Aran Islands, Galway Bay, Ireland.

Sometime in winter, I innocently answered a question in the Movable Type developers forum, which led to helping an Irish journalist make a website for censored stories from the world's hotspots. Grateful, he wrote, "You must bring your family to my cottage on Inis Meain."

So here we are in the Aran Isles off the coast of Galway. A 40-minute ferry ride led to this amazing place -- pronounced "Inish Maan" -- where cows live outdoors and miles of walls contain them and protect small gardens from the wind.

Irish is the first language. The few shops open around 11. Keys are left dangling in door locks. There are no police on the island.

The view out our door:

I met the man who feeds these cheeky chickens, looking for where a hen had laid her eggs. Free-range chickens mean a daily treasure hunt.

My camera fell out of my slicker's pocket in Roscommon, and the lens no longer extends. I'm using a borrowed Kodak whose photos have fuzzy edges, perhaps appropriate to this magical place.

The view to the right:

The weather is sunny and cool, like our spring, with a bit of a wind. Artichokes and rhubarb grow in soil created from seaweed in baskets many years ago. The only sounds are made by cows, and the occasional airplane overhead.

Tonight we'll go to the pub. There are few cars, and the climb back up the steep hill might be daunting.