weekending

This weekend was a real mixed bag. On Friday we had our first barbeque of the summer season. Kevin chopped some wood and we lit the fire and before long we were eating lamb and herb chipolatas, homemade beef burgers and salmon cooked in little tinfoil parcels to stop it from burning. After, while the embers were still hot enough, we toasted marshmallows and using chocolate digestives made our version of s'mores. To say the three boys were happy would be an understatement. At some stage though, deep into the night the rain arrived and it stayed and wrapped us in its grey, dank blanket for the whole of the following day. And then today, Sunday, dawned a little gloomy like someone having a slight huff having not got their own way but slowly, slowly the day decided to smile rather than frown and we got to have the warmest, most summeriest day so far this year. But now as I write, with the children showered and tucked up in bed, the rain is pelting down and the darkness has drawn in and that sunshine seems like it belonged to another day...

to the lighthouse

painting by John Knapp Fisher

We have had the crashing wind and the endless rain for days now. The trees in the garden are almost completely leafless and if you stand outside in the dusky half light the noise of the wind in the branches is almost sea-like. I miss the sea. And so, even though it's November and not exactly a holiday time of year, I'd love to be packing my bags and heading away for a night or two. I even know where I'd go...to a lighthouse where I could hear, smell and see the sea and it's endless variations. And being in my lighthouse I'd also know I'd be totally safe no matter how wild the weather became. I could read Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse or, more likely, The Lighthouse Keeper's Christmas by Ronda and David Armitage. 

I would, quite possibly, only eat the nicest of food and drink the nicest of drinks and sleep with the sound of the waves and the crying of seabirds and maybe the Shipping Forecast would be on in the background. I would wake at first light and after coffee and bacon and eggs, or maybe pancakes and maple syrup, I'd walk along the cliffs and if it got a bit squally I'd scuttle back to the stout safe lighthouse and light some candles and the fire and read for a bit and then perhaps unpack that picnic hamper of goodies that I would have remembered to have packed and then who knows, maybe a snooze, maybe a glass of wine...Instead, of course, I'll stand in the garden and listen to the wind in the trees and pretend.

wash day

painting by Anji Allen

Oh my goodness the rain has been something shocking - it was dark and grey when we woke up and it rained solidly all day. This would normally be absolutely fine (it is Ireland after all) but my tumble drier has broken and drying anything outdoors is really a non-runner at this time of year. So the stoves were lit and the house ended up swathed in laundry in various stages of drying. I think Anji Allen's painting of sheets and towels and kettles and teacups sums up 'wash day' here very nicely!

cloudy with a chance of...

Really there's very little doing here. The days have their routine and it rarely changes. There's work and school and home and dog walking and all those other mundane (essential) parts of life. Sometimes I wish things would pep up, just a bit, but mostly I like life just as it is. Dark clouds and all.

We seem to be having an unbelievably cold, wet and windy May. But apparently some chap in New Zealand has said it'll be alright and next month will be better. You could sniff at the thought of the chap in New Zealand predicting the weather but I'm thinking I could do worse than a) believe it and b) get a hold of The Walker's Guide to Outdoor Clues and Signs by Tristan Gooley and find out for myself what my local environment is trying to tell me. But even I know what those big black clouds mean....

squally showers

There are clouds in the sky. Clouds (with rain, not those high, wispy, friendly ones) and lots of cold wind. The wind blows up suddenly, bashing at the windows and makes me run around the house closing them frantically. The rain is trying to get in. No, it really is. It's hammering at the doors and doing that sneaky rain thing of seeping. What the heck is going on? It's May. May!!!! for goodness sake (shaking fist at the sky).  Where are the blue skies, the swooping swallows (well, actually I know where they are - shivering in the shed next to our house), the frothy swaths of cow parsley? Is this just here? Has May forsaken us? Is she dancing and dusting other places with sun speckles and pollen? Grumble.

red sky in the morning...

...shepherds' warning. We were treated to a dramatic sunrise this morning- blazing sky and pink singed cloud, a hoar frost on the fields, the raw call of crows and the thump of their wings as they rose from the ground. It's now mid-day and the frost is still there; not going any time soon, judging by the below zero reading on the outdoor thermometer. So it's a day at home, hovering close to the wood burning stove, perhaps getting to read more of The Goldfinch, catching up on chores and trying to stop jack frost from nipping at toes.

this week

This week...

This week the sun came out! How lovely it was to feel the warmth outside. The boys were happy to spread a blanket on the grass and play Lego, while we got to fling open all doors and windows. The little lane running beside the house was dry and dusty, with sun dappled patches and lots of blackthorn blossom. Oh I do hope the weather picks up a little more, it's just so nice!