In Kilfinane we were known as wild children. And maybe we really were.
What should have been another summer camping trip turned into something completely different. On the first night after arriving in Ireland my parents and my aunt and uncle tried to put up a tent in gale force ten on the banks of a grey and rough lake, while we children, my sister and me, my little brother and my three cousins watched on from the car. We must have arrived late because I remember it being dark. We had camped many times but up until that point had always sought out sunny, southern spots in Italy or Spain, once we went to Yugoslavia but the temperature there proved to be too hot for us. I can’t remember if they eventually got the tent up, as sticks were constantly falling over and the wind got into the canvas a few times nearly taking it out on to the lake.
Mr. Pedro himself!
This miniature painting really brought back memories. All through painting it, it reminded me constantly of my sister’s dog: Pedro. He was an Irish Yorkshire terrier with a Mexican name and a true bandito personality. At least I thought so, because he was constantly picking fights with my dog, a Saint Bernard named Jimmy. Pedro had even lost an eye in one of those fights but that didn’t stop him. A lock of hair was grown to cover it and Mr. Pedro was his old self again, prancing about the grounds oozing confidence with every step he took.