So much happening, so much to say. So much so, that the more it piles up, the less inclined I am to sit down and document it here. I even toyed with the idea of ending my blog, but in truth I do love it, and love even more, a documentation of our lives over the years (even though I steadfastly refuse to put up photos of my appalling untidiness) (Actually, I did try. I had a moderately untidy picture (eye-wateringly messy for the more pernickity amongst us) but I couldn’t get it off one computer onto this blog post. For once, an inanimate electrical object conspired with me…).
(All those cuties are mine. (And Fergal’s of course) How did that happen?!)
In my dream world I want to be channelling my inner Fionnuala from Three Sons Later or Nicola from Simply Homemade in which I write regularly about my garden, home, crafty things, food. The bit that pulls me down is the regularity (and, I will be honest, the lack of tidiness). So I am really going to try (attempt #437)… Starting now.
So where am I? Oh yes, buried deep under paintings and illustrations; or perhaps somewhere down at the end of our garden looking at some beautiful lichens (we have some beautiful ones) rather than cleaning and sorting out a house that needs so much work still. I imagined I would “do” rooms in our house (Pinterest-style) without taking into account that we do things sloooowly, bit by bit. And not one room at a time; no, a little here, a little there.
It’s all a bit mad still: finishing details like skirting boards or light fittings or proper curtains have still to be thought about; walls need painting, repainting, tiling. Future plans to extend need to be decided… I often wish we had an endless supply of money to throw at it, but know in my heart that even if we did, it would still take us forever. There’s just always so many other things that need doing…
And so much being done: Lots of music: drums, tin whistles, guitars, piano; painting, pottery, sewing, languages, staring at a world map endlessly…; Liam has become our resident baker: we are enjoying freshly baked delicious loaves of yeast bread and trays of warm cookies almost daily (I really need to start some serious exercise routines before I look like a Tellytubby) We made delicious blackcurrant cordial (using Darina Allen’s recipe, found here), and enjoyed our own lettuce, peas, chives, parsley, courgettes and strawberries that we planted since we moved in almost five months ago. And the wild flowers! I fecked a couple of boxes of wild flower seeds (inexpensive ones from Lidl) in different places around the garden. Hoped for a few scraggly blooms, did not expect the mass profusion of colour that hums with bees daily. There is simply nothing as lovely as having jars of riotous colour adorning your window sills and tables! (And where are the photos of same, I hear you ask? Well, yes. They are also on the computer with my untidy picture. They can have a blog post all of their own once I figure out how to work the bloody thing)
I have reconnected with so many people in the past couple of months; old friends I had lost contact with, cousins, college friends… It’s like coming a full circle.
We are trying to get out walking somewhere within half an hour every week while the weather is reasonably (and sometimes terrifically) good. The quaint and gorgeous town of Stradbally is close, with playgrounds, old steam train and wonderful woods.
Castlecomer Discovery Park is fantastic: playground and a great walk which costs nothing other than a few euros for parking; or if you want a reasonably inexpensive “experience”, there is a whole host of brilliant activities like climbing walls, tree top trails, a zip wire which makes me break out in a sweat even thinking about it: up over a lake, high flying through trees… I might give that one a miss…And my home town of sweet Athy. It suffered the misfortunes of the Celtic Tiger going belly-up, but has the bones of a great possibility: an ancient heritage town, most lovely walkways down by the river Barrow and canal, some really great cafes and shops and something that is rarely considered: a very welcoming, friendly population. Our kids always remark on how friendly and kind people are when we are in Athy. It’s a great place to live.
And so this is where we are; in the midst of plenty of madness and mayhem, enjoying being here immensely. A little overwhelmed, but happy. Just living deeply and feeling full.
It’s all good.