In the saltmarsh fringing where the Ballyboe River dissolves into Trawbreaga Bay, a little egret wears its plumage like a windblown stole. Our car swoops across the 10 arches of Malin bridge and we park along the village green. Malin is almost as far north as you can get on the island of Ireland. It was a “planned settlement” that emerged from the Ulster plantation, a colonial project that “planted” the region with people from England and Scotland during the 17th century. Along the base of the green’s triangle are the tree-lined grounds of the local Church of Ireland (Anglican communion). The modest church building is the foundation on which the green, and thus the village, stand. Jackdaws spill from the bell tower, which is oriented not, as you might expect, towards the village but rather towards Malin Hall, the former landowners’ family home.
