Isle

Rain. It never stops. When it's raining in this plain Emerald Isle it may be monotonous or it may last all of three seconds. This country may be small and well known for its poor weather, sheep, beer and potatoes there is more to this island than meets the eye. There is such a stigma surrounding us folk on this crazy minuscule country. Twenty-six counties in the republic. Six counties in the north. The same soil but oh, so different. Hatred and culture. The stigma associated with us countrymen and countrywomen being alcoholics, can't have a dinner without potatoes and farmers working in the rain. Rain. Such a peaceful word, such a peaceful sound but yet causes destruction in little towns on this isle. Haven't guessed the country yet? Surprising? I would be surprised too if I hadn't guessed yet.