and I find myself lingering in Cean Tir beyond the boundaries of the residents' open hospitality. The daylight lingers too, earlier dawns and later dusks showing the change of seasons from winter to spring.

My curragh has long been repaired. It waits for me on the shore. At sunrise I look to the west. I can almost hear my daughters crying for me.

"Manannan, hasten my journey!"

After throwing the last good crumbs of Gruach's sweetcakes as an offering to the lapping tides, I take up the oar and push away from this pleasant place and the friendly folk who have taken me in as one of their own. I head swiftly for the open sea and my home on the isle of Jura.