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Sinead was the name we gave the piebald pony in the little field across the road from our rental cottage in Crumlin, a tiny townland on the Loughros Beg penninsula just west of Ardara (Ar-DRA) in S.W. Donegal.

On the November morning that we reluctantly left for the drive to the Dublin airport, there was a frost on the grasses, and the tidal bay was filled with mist, illuminated by the brand new sun in the East. It was a scene right out of a fairytale... As always, Sinead was there... but she didn't even turn around to say goodbye though we called her name again and again.