Autumn

Autumn is my favorite season in Ireland. You'd think that I would prefer the sunnier, longer days of summer but I just feel disappointed when it isn't as warm as 30+ years of Texas summers taught me it should be.

In the autumn it is windy and fresh and you can smell peat burning in fireplaces….a smell that is Ireland's own in its earthy smokiness. The leaves change and are blown off the trees in showers of yellow and wine by sudden gusts of fresh wind. Walking to school this past week we were pelted by nearly an entire tree's worth of leaves.

The wind makes everyone giddy, especially the kids. You can feel their energy go haywire as the wind whips them into a gleeful frenzy. Hair blows around heads in crazy swirls, eyes water and noses run, and giggles and screams compete with the whipping wind. It is a terrific feeling. I imagine they feel as though they could jump into a gust and fly to school. Or maybe that's just how I feel!

One of the strangest things about living so far above the equator is the huge variance in length of days. In spring and summer the days get gradually longer, peaking to more than 20 hours of sun on the summer solstice. The nights don't get fully pitch black until after 2am and the dawn begins to break by 5 in the morning. Of course it isn't full on bright sun at midnight, but it is twilight bright. When my stepdad Joe visited one summer he joked that he was getting a 2 for 1 vacation because the days lasted so long.

There are two sides to every story and this sunlight thing isn't an exception. As you would imagine fall and winter are on the opposite end of the sunlight spectrum. It starts gradually. The night starts to come sooner and before you know it what was a 7 o'clock dusk has become 5 o'clock. Then the time changes and it is dusk at four. Paul is always amazed at how low in the sky the sun is at its noontime peak. We went to Seattle once in October and were freaked out by this same thing never thinking that we would move here and come to love these early nights.

I love early darkness because it forces us to slow down and come inside. We have a proper sit down dinner together with the slow chat that's not possible in fast-paced summer when the kids are on the road riding bikes until after 7. I make things that take all day to cook but only a half hour to prepare and we drink red wine or Guinness and indulge in brown bread and proper butter. You cannot drink Guinness when it's warm outside, (warm being relative of course) unless you're on holiday and have been caught in a sudden shower and forced into the nearest pub.

Here I sit, warm in my fleece pullover and fuzzy socks, watching the wind bend the trees, and looking forward to a night in with the curtains drawn, all of us cozied up together.

Dirty Laundry

 

Would you consider hanging your laundry or 'washing' out on a line to dry? Why not? Texas has the perfect weather for drying washing. Sheets, knickers, and vests would be dry in no time almost any day of the year. Why, because we just don't. There are things called dryers for that sort of thing….nice manmade machines that roll the clothes around in a heated drum and toss out all the wrinkles and damp. Don't be silly!

One of my first nights out with new friends provided me with an insight into what a spoiled life I actually had with my tumble dryer over in TX. And quite frankly, how wasteful it was. One friend said her Dad came over while she had the tumble dryer on and made her come out with him and look at the electric meter, oh how it spins! Think of all that money wasted on drying clothes when you have a perfectly nice day for hanging out the washing. Another said she'd never had a tumble dryer. Ever. She has 3 small children. Just think of that, not forgetting of course that Ireland isn't known for having the sunniest, driest weather. She has one now but really it isn't so odd that she didn't. They don't really use them over here.

The second most popular topic of polite conversation is the washing. If you've hung yours out yet, what a good day it is for hanging washing, better get the washing in the weather's changing.

In the old house we had a tumble dryer. It just didn't really work very well. It wasn't like the ones I was used to with the filter poking out of a vent in the side of the house for the steam to escape through. Instead it had a tray in the bottom, not unlike one of those freezer trays filled with water or that strange blue stuff that you put in a cooler, where all the water from the clothes would go. I always wondered how the water got there. Anyway, this water thing would fill up periodically and have to be taken out of the dryer and emptied. I'd stand out in the cold in my robe and flip-flops pouring used clothes water into the bushes. And for all that, the clothes still wouldn't get totally dry. Not that nice fluffy bury-your-face-in-the -towels dry. This contributes to bitterness.

Another option is to hang your clothes all over the house on drying racks and in the hot press. What's a hot press? A press is a cabinet and it's the hot one because it has the immersion tank in it. An immersion tank being the hot water heater. More on that another day. So, in the winter and early spring when most days are cold and wet and not fine days for hanging the washing, one must decorate the house with it. Our kitchen eating area used to be the drying area, not very good feng shui I found out because that was our money corner and it is not good to have your money corner cluttered.

With all of that I do have to admit that I loved hanging out all of Paul and Rowan's white undershirts in a perfect row along the clothesline. It made me feel very organized to see them all lined up like sails or bunting at a picnic. And sheets are especially nice dried on a line. But I would never iron them. My neighbor asked me one day if I was always ironing because of how often I washed the sheets. "What?!?" , I asked, stunned, "iron the sheets?" I'd never heard of such a thing. I send work shirts to the cleaners so I don't have to iron them for crying out loud. No way, never, not a chance will you ever catch me ironing sheets!

I have to admit my horrible, lazy secret here. In the new house we have a perfectly lovely, carbon bigfoot print, meter spinning like Christmas Vacation tumble dryer and I use it with reckless abandon. Sweet, sweet joys of life.

Weather Report

The weather is a constant topic of conversation around here. It has to be really as it is such a factor in our lives here on an island on the edge of the Atlantic. A day can be made or lost depending on the state of the weather. "Lovely day", "Blustery day", "Fresh mornin'", "Dreadful weather" are all common greetings as you pass people along the road. If it is a lovely, fresh day you'll hear constant refrains of 'long may it last' and 'please God' and if the weather is rotten the talk is always about how it's meant to be nice again next week. A weather report in the paper or on the radio can be comical. There was once one that said, and this is absolutely the truth, something like: "sun in the east, blustery across most of the country with a slight chance for thunderstorms and gale force winds, possible chance of sleet, hail or snow".

The amazing part about this weather obsession is how quickly we all forget. Today for instance is a gorgeous, sunny and warm day (highs are probably 62 degrees F) and no one remembers that it was raining nonstop on Sunday. We are all thankful for the moment when it comes to the weather. It is truly a case of enjoy the here and now because it could be lashing from the heavens again this afternoon. The kids go by the old saying, 'red skies at night, shepherds' delight. Red skies in the morning, shepherds' warning." And it really does seem to hold true. Same goes for a terrible day like last Sunday. It has never been more miserable, wet, dreadful as it is at that time and how can we live in such a country with such weather, etc. Then the blustery wind blows the rain clouds over to Wales or into the vast Atlantic and everything is rosy again.

To that point, there is a certain mania that comes with really good summer weather. It is so fleeting yet so absolutely perfect when it is the height of a good summer here that everyone goes a bit loopy. Running around in tank tops and sundresses, fleeing to the sea and jumping into the freezing water like it's the Caribbean, and mass purchasing of barbeque meats, beer, and suncream are common side effects of a good Irish summer. There is a wonderful camaraderie in the air along with the warmth; we are all happy and smiling and hopeful, long may it last.

You know that Waterboys song that goes, 'your love feels like high, high summer'? (If not, have a listen it's a really pretty song.) Well, it used to not make sense at all to me, being from Texas where summer temperatures can reach 100+F/40+C. How could high summer be good to compare to a beautiful love? It is oppressive and miserable and gives you the horrible crotch sweat…that's what I used to think. But now I get it. High summer in Ireland or Scotland where the Waterboys are from (I think) is one of the most gorgeous and perfect things on this Earth. It is green, beyond green, and everything is in hypersharp focus, filtered through the brightest, clearest sun. There is a soft breeze to keep you cool and endless blue sky over a glass smooth sea of deep blue and shades of gray and green.

You know it will be a fine day when you can smell the sea….a salty, sharpish, smell like your true love's sweet sweat in high summer.