Call it fate.
One idyllic Irish morning, I set out to find the perfect place to spend the day and hopefully enjoy a picnic. “If only the weather would hold,” I whispered to myself. As the sun spilled over the sides of the Irish castle I was calling home for the next several days, I hopped into my mini rental, cranked down the windows and sped off into my future.
As I wound my way down and around Wexford, I caught the faintest glimpse of a sign staked on the side of the road. As the bright purple letters came into sharper focus, I felt a smile spread across my face. ‘Wexford Lavender Farm’, it read, with an arrow indicating