Remembering Ireland

    Dark and rainy days always remind me of Ireland. While I didn’t think that Ireland would stick with me as strongly as it did I like to think of it as a heritage, I feel like somehow I came of age there and stretched out my wings for the first time.
    The rain brings its own enchantment whether there or here, I’m wondering where my wool slippers are hiding, wishing for a wood stove again, and thinking of what latest treat could I bake for my family. These desires are a stark contrast to the fresh lilacs on my counter and my little boy wearing his favourite shorts; pineapples and parrots on a blue background. We were just at the beach a few days ago.
    Its not autumn yet, but the rain brings up some important questions that I’ve been asking myself. What is the culture I’m building with my family and what is the culture that I want to share with others? It feels like we’ve been in this transition phase of our lives for so long my husband and I. I’ve been packing recently with two intentions: 1- that hopefully we will move out of the apartment soon, and 2- giving ourselves more space as we lay some things down in our lives. With the arrival of a second child on the way comes the requirement to set some things aside for a time as we enter a new season. There is much to build still as the family grows and we change and find ourselves in hopefully a more permanent house and as we search for what’s next. But tonight, it’s still rainy and after I make tonight’s dinner of bbq meatballs with veg, I’ll make a sourdough gingerbread as an ode to the rain. ​