Day Nine. Wednesday, St Patrick's Day.
...more from the journal...
After a good night's sleep in the old cottage, we all awoke and had some tea and toast and cheese, (of course). We took a shower in the very nicely remodeled bathroom in the small addition to the original cottage and shortly after that, Belinda and Joan, and her husband Ulrich, (the owners of the lovely old farm house, arrived from Dublin). They proceeded to whip up another morning meal, which was greatly enjoyed.
Then, Jared, Joan, Belinda and I took a walk down the lane to the old quarry nearby where stones from the house may have been quarried, accompanied by the dogs, Queen Meave and Grunnie. The setting was pastoral in the extreme. Rolling countryside, sheep in the fields, hedgerows and old farmhouses where ever you might look. We met one of the local farmers on his tractor as we walked and stopped to talk. There was some question if Jules, an English artist neighbor a bit further down the road was awake or not as it was only eleven ayem or so; being an artist, his hours were irregular. The local farmer on the tractor turned out to be a local historian as well.
As we got to his house on the lane, we saw that Jules was indeed awake and standing at his gate. We were invited in for tea in the tiny kitchen; once again the conversation was lively and amusing. We also walked around the yard, visited the sheep and saw the ruins of a little cottage nearby. The people who had lived there walked out one-day decades ago and headed for America.
Sheep! They were everywhere we went, btw!
We walked back down the lane and back to the cottage.
Uli was sitting in the suntrap playing Scrabble with sister Deirdre. Jared joined the game, Belinda and Joan went inside for a bit and I decided to read a book by Feargal Quinn, the guy who started the modern supermarket in Ireland. (O.K., I know. I was on vacation. But I think I get extra points for reading the book in Ireland, hehe.) Oh, also, the dogs, Grunnie and Queen Meave... luvely mutts, they were!
A note here about the cottage:
It's over two hundred years old and almost magic in the way it feels when you're there. The old hearth...
...was discovered behind a plaster wall, after an old woman, who had lived there for much of her life remembered that "there was a fireplace" behind the wall when she was a child. There are the two places on either side of the fire box for two people, a husband and wife, to sit on long cold evenings after a day of toil together, and two small compartments, one maybe for keeping smoked meats, the other a place to keep your salt supply dry in the humid air. Sitting there at the table as we ate, I often thought of those people that once lived in the cottage and worked the land over the centuries, and felt something very strong about what history really means. The blackened stones at the back of the hearth a sign that people had lived in this place for generations... a good feeling came from that hearth.
Above the hearth on the upper right side, they left a bit of the old framework for the original thatch roof showing. (The cottage has a slate roof now, done years ago.)
I can't tell you how much this place moved me. The work that Joan and Uli, (and Belinda and Deirdre) had done on the place was a mixture of both practical and almost reverent restoration. The room Jared stayed in, pictured below, might give you an idea of thier very good taste and feeling for the place.
So, after a bit, Deirdre, Jared, Joan and Uli played boules for a while and I watched. Then we all went in and worked on the evening meal, which eventually arrived at the table in the main room with the old hearth, which was lit by candles. Jules, the guy from down the lane showed up and we proceeded to dine with lots of good food, wine and conversation, warm and friendly. Occasionally, Jules and I went out into the yard to smoke and look at the brilliant country star lit sky, which was stunning, and talk.
We all finished off the night with Irish Coffees, but with real Irish whiskey, and in Ireland!
And then to bed and sweet dreams, it was a perfect day. And a perfect St. Patrick's day! I couldn't have imagined a better one.
...more from the journal...
After a good night's sleep in the old cottage, we all awoke and had some tea and toast and cheese, (of course). We took a shower in the very nicely remodeled bathroom in the small addition to the original cottage and shortly after that, Belinda and Joan, and her husband Ulrich, (the owners of the lovely old farm house, arrived from Dublin). They proceeded to whip up another morning meal, which was greatly enjoyed.
Then, Jared, Joan, Belinda and I took a walk down the lane to the old quarry nearby where stones from the house may have been quarried, accompanied by the dogs, Queen Meave and Grunnie. The setting was pastoral in the extreme. Rolling countryside, sheep in the fields, hedgerows and old farmhouses where ever you might look. We met one of the local farmers on his tractor as we walked and stopped to talk. There was some question if Jules, an English artist neighbor a bit further down the road was awake or not as it was only eleven ayem or so; being an artist, his hours were irregular. The local farmer on the tractor turned out to be a local historian as well.
As we got to his house on the lane, we saw that Jules was indeed awake and standing at his gate. We were invited in for tea in the tiny kitchen; once again the conversation was lively and amusing. We also walked around the yard, visited the sheep and saw the ruins of a little cottage nearby. The people who had lived there walked out one-day decades ago and headed for America.
Sheep! They were everywhere we went, btw!
We walked back down the lane and back to the cottage.
Uli was sitting in the suntrap playing Scrabble with sister Deirdre. Jared joined the game, Belinda and Joan went inside for a bit and I decided to read a book by Feargal Quinn, the guy who started the modern supermarket in Ireland. (O.K., I know. I was on vacation. But I think I get extra points for reading the book in Ireland, hehe.) Oh, also, the dogs, Grunnie and Queen Meave... luvely mutts, they were!
A note here about the cottage:
It's over two hundred years old and almost magic in the way it feels when you're there. The old hearth...
...was discovered behind a plaster wall, after an old woman, who had lived there for much of her life remembered that "there was a fireplace" behind the wall when she was a child. There are the two places on either side of the fire box for two people, a husband and wife, to sit on long cold evenings after a day of toil together, and two small compartments, one maybe for keeping smoked meats, the other a place to keep your salt supply dry in the humid air. Sitting there at the table as we ate, I often thought of those people that once lived in the cottage and worked the land over the centuries, and felt something very strong about what history really means. The blackened stones at the back of the hearth a sign that people had lived in this place for generations... a good feeling came from that hearth.
Above the hearth on the upper right side, they left a bit of the old framework for the original thatch roof showing. (The cottage has a slate roof now, done years ago.)
I can't tell you how much this place moved me. The work that Joan and Uli, (and Belinda and Deirdre) had done on the place was a mixture of both practical and almost reverent restoration. The room Jared stayed in, pictured below, might give you an idea of thier very good taste and feeling for the place.
So, after a bit, Deirdre, Jared, Joan and Uli played boules for a while and I watched. Then we all went in and worked on the evening meal, which eventually arrived at the table in the main room with the old hearth, which was lit by candles. Jules, the guy from down the lane showed up and we proceeded to dine with lots of good food, wine and conversation, warm and friendly. Occasionally, Jules and I went out into the yard to smoke and look at the brilliant country star lit sky, which was stunning, and talk.
We all finished off the night with Irish Coffees, but with real Irish whiskey, and in Ireland!
And then to bed and sweet dreams, it was a perfect day. And a perfect St. Patrick's day! I couldn't have imagined a better one.
posted by durlx at 4/03/2004 06:46:00 PM
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