I woke up to sunlight this morning. It was so bright, so early, and I couldn't remember whose bed I was in or which country I awoke in. Jet lag will do this to you, make your head spin so your brain feels like silly puddy in the hands of this great big earth. The house was quiet still, with the children all sleeping in and sleeping off our long day of travel, so that when I came downstairs in silent bare feet, only the man was there to greet me. The man, the sun and a good cup of coffee.
This is home. Ireland has welcomed me back when I wasn't sure she would....
Read moreWhile August takes its last breath, Autumn has come to Ireland. Those late night sunsets and early morning wake-up calls giving way to dark skies in time for bed. Matt crouches beside an outdoor fire, smelling of Colorado and camp singalongs. We fashion smores here with chocolate digestive biscuits, which is really the better way to do it, anyway. Who hasn't lost a Hershey square or two from lack of melting?
This was meant for Asher's birthday, but company and cool rain postponed the crowning event. He's not keen on cake, but could live off biscuits. And marshmallows on sticks. And cardboard, but that's beside the point. It's still summer holidays, and we - who never plan much more than a week in advance and dread the long days and endless Wii fights - we are eeking out a bit more of this season...
Read moreFor someone who says she hates summer, I am certainly head over heels for it today. For today, all day, it is hot enough to languish in the sun. To wear shorts and hang load after load of laundry. To lay out a blanket and call it a picnic...
Read moreI can't get over this, how it actually is snowing here. Right now. Nearly every day this week has been tainted with the white stuff. It never adds up and it never lasts long, but we sit at the kitchen table with a friend, talking about life and culture and adapting and learning and there it is again. Snow. We all laugh as we're all from America and it's not like we ever get enough here to need shovels or plows. But still, the weather is like this: slow cycles of drips from heaven. Wait a minute and it will change again.
We are in a sweet spot.
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