We had just arrived in Dublin and were ambling across Merrion Square Park, when I spotted her at the entrance.
I also saw a slack line between two trees and had to give it a try. My son willingly photographed my bumbling efforts, even when the owner suggested he take my hand.
“Oh no, I have to photograph this!” he replied.
Needless to say, slack lining requires practice.
Then, I spotted three bear statues striding across the lawn and suggested he capture me joining the parade. (More about the scuptor Patrick O’Reilly here:
We could see our lucky leprechaun standing at the far opening of the park, the gate we were aiming for on our way to our accommodations after our trans-Atlantic flight.
Yes, I was a bit sleep deprived and punchy.
“Where ye headed?” she asked as we approached.
“Just to our hotel,” and my son pointed in the direction we were heading.
“Where ye from?” she next demanded.
“We are from the States,” he offered.
“I know that by the way you talk,” she scoffed.
“I’m from New England but he is from New York City,” I clarify, hoping to find the right answer to appease this little imp.
“Do you need help crossing the street?” I offer, still not sure what she wants.
“I’m not going that way,” she states.
“Well where are you from? Have you lived here all your life?” I probe.
“I’ve lived in Dublin all my life. My one brother lives over that way, and I have another one on this street. I’m going to the pharmacy now to pick up some medication.”
“Well you are just the cutest little thing. I could pop you right into my pocket!” I exclaim making her burst out laughing.
That’s when I asked to get her picture.
“If you don’t mind,” she said.
Not at all.
Later I learned that leprechauns are only ever male and somewhat nasty for the simple reason that there are no female leprechauns for them to relieve some of that energy.
I was super lucky.
I found the leprechaun they are looking for!
On that first day I learned that half the magic of the island is found in its people.