I lár an earraigh, nuair a bhí an ghrian ag dul i bhfód ar chósta thiar na hÉireann, bhí Siobhan ag déanamh réidh chun dul ar aistear neamhghnách.

In the middle of spring, as the sun was setting on the west coast of Éire, Siobhan was getting ready to embark on an unusual journey.

Bhí scéalta cloiste aici faoi mhargadh rúnda i sean-stóralán tréigthe, áit a raibh planda ann a bhí uathúil.

She had heard stories about a secret market in an abandoned old storeroom, where there was a unique plant.

Dúil mhór aici i ngairdíní, bhí fonn aici an planda seo a fháil mar bhailiúchán luachmhar dá gairdín.

With a great passion for gardens, she was eager to acquire this plant as a valuable addition to her collection.

Bhí sé Domhnach Cásca, agus cé go raibh an chathair ciúin ina bhféile, bhí Siobhan sáite i leabhar ar a bhí an nóta rúnda a fuair sí.

It was Domhnach Cásca (Easter Sunday), and although the city was quiet with its festivity, Siobhan was engrossed in a book with the secret note she had received.

Bhí Declan agus Maeve lena taobh, a cairde dílis a bheartaigh cuidiú léi an rún seo a réiteach.

Declan and Maeve were by her side, her loyal friends who had decided to help her solve this mystery.

Bhí litir aisteach ar a thábla, ag tabhairt treoracha do namhaid a bhí á cheilt ag foláirimh agus rúndiamhair.

A strange letter was on her table, offering directions to an enemy hidden among warnings and mysteries.

"Siobhan, tá an chéad leid anseo," a dúirt Declan, ag pointeáil chuig geataín iarainn a bhí meáite le fiailí.

"Siobhan, the first clue is here," said Declan, pointing to a small iron gate tangled with weeds.

Chuaigh an triúr acu isteach sa stóras.

The three of them entered the warehouse.

Bhí sé dorcha, agus fuaimeanna aisteacha ag scinneadh as na scáileanna.

It was dark, with strange sounds echoing from the shadows.

Thit solas bog tríd na fuinneoga briste, á dtiomáint ar aghaidh.

Soft light filtered through the broken windows, urging them onward.

Bhí Maeve ag breacadh na céimeanna a thóg siad, eagla uirthi go gcaillfidís iad féin.

Maeve was marking the steps they took, afraid they might get lost.

Taibhseach a bhí na margaí istigh.

The markets inside were astonishing.

Binseanna lán le plandaí neamhchoitianta, dathaí glasa agus corca túch a mbeadh radharc orthu am ar bith eile.

Benches filled with unusual plants, hues of green and purple that would stand out at any other time.

Ach tuigeadh do Siobhan go bhféadfadh rud ar bith a bheith anseo, mistéireach agus breactha.

But Siobhan understood that anything could be here, mysterious and intricate.

Chonaic sí é, an planda a bhí sí ag lorg, ag deireadh aisle fhada.

She saw it, the plant she was seeking, at the end of a long aisle.

Siombail na dea-fhortún agus na hiontais, rinne sí brostú ina threo.

A symbol of good fortune and wonders, she hurried towards it.

Ach bhí duine cosúil le h-eolas ag an áit sin: bailitheoir eile, a ainm Mark, agus cuma dúshlánach air, ag barbardán leis an ndíoltóir.

But there was someone familiar at that place: another collector named Mark, looking challenging, haggling with the seller.

Siobhan chuaigh ar aghaidh.

Siobhan proceeded.

Bhí sí anois san uachtrán seo.

She was now in the thick of it.

Thosaigh an tábhairne ar cheant, agus ní raibh aon bhotúin ann, ní bheadh an planda aici mura sa ghníomh seo a léiriú sí an lárchtuiscint a bhí ann.

The auction started, and there was no mistake, she wouldn't have the plant unless she proved her central understanding in this event.

Bridigh na curadóirí ar aghaidh.

The curators continued.

Bhí Godchealla faoi thuiocht soineanta sa bhfaigheann sultmhar seo.

Godchealla (perhaps a person or place) was innocently caught in this delightful fuss.

Sa deireadh, thug Siobhan a tairiscint dheireannach.

In the end, Siobhan made her final bid.

Bhí sí ina seilbh againne.

She was in possession now.

Ba í an bua a pobar labhrunt na huaine go léir a chuir sí isteach.

It was her victory for all the patience she had put in.

Nuair a shiúil sí amach ón sean-stóralán, theastaigh uaithi a bhualadh léi.

As she walked out of the old storeroom, she felt like she should celebrate.

Mothaigh sí an t-uallach trasna gualann imithe.

She felt the burden across her shoulders lift.

Thuig sí anois gurbh é an turas céanna is mó a bhí measach, ní hamháin an toradh.

She understood now that the journey itself was the most rewarding, not just the outcome.

Agus chomh luas agus a ghlac an cumha sin é, bhí an gairdíní feistithe le plandáil úrún, ag teachtaint sa gaoth gheal crón, is báire lán, lán chomh tapaidh chomh haitheanta i mbarr an tucht a mharc Amuis Finne.

And as that realization settled, the gardens were equipped with newfound planting, dancing in the bright golden wind, a full success, as swiftly recognized in the top of the presence of Amuis Finne's mark.