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Aging, Being young, Bridget Jones, Broagh, Castledawson, Diary, Family, FInal wishes, Loss, Love, Marriage, Ordinary Things, Personal Helicon, Poetry, Regrets, saying goodbye, Soundtracks of our Lives, Those Winter Sundays, Writing
the offices of love ~ what did I know?
This winter Sunday, I woke to the high-pitched scrape of steel on steel, my da sharpening my bread knife because “it wouldn’t cut butter.” I stayed in bed, allowing the long metallic strokes on each side of the blade to carry me back to the kitchen of my childhood, my father making sure the knife was sharp enough to carve…
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Arizona, Awesome Women, Books, Bridget Jones, Death and dying, Door into the Dark, Family, FInal wishes, Friendship, Grieving, Helen Fielding, Marriage, Memoir, Mourning, Northern Ireland, Ordinary Things, Poetry, saying goodbye, Seamus Heaney, The Devil Wears Prada, The Midnight Anvil, Wedding Anniversary, Wendy Cope, widowed
newly widowed ~ instructions not included
They tell me I am in a state of shock and to take one day at a time. They tell me he is in a far better place now. Really? How could any place be better than in our dining room next month to light sixteen candles on my daughter's birthday cake or in the audience to cheer our girl…
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Anahorish, Antrim, Arizona, Artisans, Being young, Belfast, Language matters, McClelland Irish Library, Memoir, Northern Ireland, Northern Ireland Culture, Ordinary Things, Phoenix, Phoenix Landmarks, Soundtracks of our Lives, Ted Hughes, The Diviner, The Forge, Writing
a cool whiskey for seamus heaney & me
No better way to end a night celebrating the poetry of Seamus Heaney than with a Powers whiskey and a bit of craic. The only thing missing was a turf fire, but this is Phoenix, Arizona, the weather still warm on the first Friday of October. No need yet for a hot whiskey, not the way my father makes it as a…
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Anahorish, California, Castledawson, grandmother, Memoir, Memoir, Mother Daughter Relationship, Ordinary Things, Poetry, Seamus Heaney, Seamus Heaney, Themes of Childhood
doing a dance for seamus heaney
Ironing shirts, folding sheets, the mundane tasks that Seamus Heaney transformed into magical spots of time that make me think of my mother back in Castledawson, County Derry a great armful of sheets rescued from the clothes-line before the rain begins to fall. Then, the folding, a precise ritual, my father her partner in a dance handed down from one generation…
