It’s a family joke, but we call them Schmid. Some years ago my lovely bride took her parents to Ireland. And somewhere along the way they met someone and that person was named Schmid, or at least misremembered as Schmid, and that got transposed on some of the sheep. And it turns out if you say Schmid in the same way that you might say “Baaaaaa!” you’ll often get a response. It was funny, it worked, it stuck.
The schmid … the sheep … are everywhere around here. Some are in fenced pastures. A great many run free. In fact, this is about the only photo I took of a roadside without schmid … sheep … on it.
We saw this one near Keem Bay and stopped especially to take this photo. It’s a winning shot, to be sure.
This one was walking by as we drove from here to there this morning, somewhere between Dumhach Beag and where we found the Spanish Armada commemoration.
This little postcard took place around nothing but the most beautiful landscape that you could imagine never being remarked on or capitalized upon in anyway.
The time stamp says I took the next photo just two minutes later.
Not to worry, I’m sure we’ll see more schmid in our journey. If you somehow missed it, there are schmid on video in the day’s first post.
Ten (!!!) posts, 42 photos, and a five minute video today. I hope you’ve gotten your money’s worth.
There will be even more tomorrow.
