Harvest time

We are all together again as a family for a short while, in September ED will be leaving to try her luck in foreign fields. Recession Ireland is spewing its finest out to other shores. I am philosophical in most ways. I always knew she would leave even if we hadn't been bitten by the recession bug; but I will miss her and so we are harvesting.

We are harvesting time together. Both she and YD moved in two weeks ago as we closed the door, for the last time, on the Wicklow house. Thirty + years living there; the main consolation was that, for me, I came home three years ago to my childhood home; Himself came with me, and the girls have now come to their other home, where they spent long summer days with Gran, playing on the beach, huge fried breakfasts, kite flying, chasing the hens into the hen run at night in case the fox caught them. Golden days. Memories cherished and memories are what made for a smooth transition back to living with THE 'RENTS! ED and I are harvesting those cherished memories and building more of our own.

I am up to the teeth with packing. ED had her room sorted within 48 hours; Himself has given me the privilege of putting his bits and bobs around the house [generosity itself!] and I have been raiding the Wicklow house for the past three years so my moving involved minimal packaging. YD, on the other hand, has enough boxes for all of us...she has enough to equip the whole house in fact. I have put a deadline of next Friday as the last day I want to see a packing box in sight. The dining room all but disappeared, my new long dining table vanished altogether, but I found it again this afternoon and I am assured that there IS a wooden floor under it.

My problem is sentiment. I have so much "memorabilia" from Mum - so much "memorabilia" from 30+ years in Wicklow and I am by nature a hoarder. I can hoard for Ireland. Mind you this is not always a bad thing. I saved over €3,000 on our new build extension with my hoarding, or recycled items as the builder termed it. Not bad going. I got tough with ME when leaving Wicklow, and a goodly lot went into the skip; I have made a new friend for life in the local Oxfam shop with the stuff that I brought down there, and now I am dividing things into Attic/Dump?/Awww! I have hit upon a cunning plan. I shall rotate. Six months on view and six months in the attic. Himself has asked me not to rotate him, he is quite happy to work in the garden and to hang pictures for me in the house!!!

My heart went out to him on the day we finally left Wicklow. He stood at the gate, looked back and said "I had parents when I bought this house". He bought it two years before he met me. July '76, and six weeks later his father died of a brain haemorrage. His mother died on 11-6-11, six weeks before he finally left that house. An era come and gone. He's happy here though. His favourite recliner in the study; ideal for those football matches; garden big enough to challenge him for the next 100 years and the pub just down the road, God give him health, energy and years to enjoy it all.

The girls love it here; YD has discovered the local talent. He's very attractive and nearly fell over his feet staring at her in the local restaurant the other day. Her mother is smiling and watching this space with amusement. Her father looked just the same 32 years ago!

Me? Well, I am in heaven. I pinch myself to make sure I am awake, alive and not dreaming. The house is coming around to the way I want it. I have taken over from Mum. She's still there in my heart. We catch a glimpse of a tartan skirt flitting around the crocosmia now and then, but it's my turn to put my stamp on it...third Lady of the House to do so. Granny Alice would be pleased to see how much influence she had on me, and Gran Lillian would be enormously chuffed as well.

Now, if I can get this flipping computer to speed up so that I can get to blog and keep in touch with my global pals...life will be totally amazing!