Because Life begins at...

Today life begins, again, at 41. Isn't it great?! The day started in the blurry regions of 5.30 am as the little princess snuggled in to say 'Can I rub your tummy Mumma?'. Poor thing thinks that there are more babies waiting in there to come out...mind you, it may appear a bit like that... And then the 10 week old wriggled on the other side and let a yelp out of him - cat like - not to be forgotten. A few doors away I could hear the rustle of Holly's tail, picking up on the waking sounds - ears pricked, waiting for the door of her sleeping quarters to open and her breakfast to arrive. 

Birthday bouquet

Morning is a strange time in our house, for me anyway. It kind of creeps in, steadily and stealthily from about four-ish when Oscar wakes for a feed. After that I don't really sleep...I generally just hold him in my arms or on my lap and lie back and enjoy the moment for it's immense peace and silence. He sleeps, in that blissful space that only a well fed newborn can sleep. Is he dreaming? And we sit or lie there for a couple of hours, until herself awakes around the six mark and then it's full steam ahead for the next fourteen hours, until she fades again back into the mess of quilt and pillows left over from the night before. 

Smile! And the whole world...

Today is my birthday. And what a lovely day it turned out to be. Instead of bemoaning the fact that I was another notch on the 40 decade, instead of freaking out about the three silver hairs that have invaded my fringe, instead of tainting the day with downbeat and defeatist thoughts I decided to go with the positive and run the risk of joy. Oh happy day! Cuddles and smiles abounded, only a few moments of angst with herself near bedtime and no sudden clothes changes where Oscar's nappies just couldn't take it. A precious shower early in the day, a sneaky coffee before 11am, a nap with cutsie newborn, baking with the princess, and candles blown out more than four times with small people, and dearest brother and father. And wildflowers on the window filling the room with heady scent Meadowsweet, every shade of green in the garden and a homegrown blackcurrant enlivened smoothie startling my tastebuds. Simple pleasures. But pleasures nonetheless. And a whole host of other birthday pleasures yet to be enjoyed with friends and family, not least of all when the man gets home. 


Life beings when you decide to live it. Usually only when you realise how easily it can be taken away. And that probably meant a painful experience and some serious soul searching. Well, the measure of pain only amplifies that of joy when it comes, and when joy comes in simple daily pleasures, well...then life surely has begun. 

"Just another little stretch baby brother..."

July is Green

July is green, officially. And every shade of it - all more than forty of them. The perfect lucent green pearls of peas, the pine forest green of phallic courgette, and all the others - emergent pear green, leek green, fig green, spinach green, cucumber green, tomato green and so and so forth. And then of course the leaf greens: mint, oregano, thyme, chive, blackcurrant...July is indeed awash with green! Add a splash of blackcurrant, an emergent golden sunflower, cornflower and starflower blues, purple beetroot tops and lavender meets oregano flowers. Poppy red and pale pink rose draws the eye in the midst of all these representatives of rainbow. 

Green collection - with splash of strawberry

And we are all the better for it. All that green has now been proven to be beneficial to the viewer. 'Restorative environments' - places with a green space basically - is the phrase that some give it. And aren't we lucky to have it? And not just to look at. Summer's bounty so far has been rewarding - although in truth, I really wouldn't like to be reliant on our garden for complete sustenance. Our limited space - or is it limited experience and know how? - means that we would be pretty hungry if we were hanging on for the modest spud harvest or the odd bit of fruit and veg that we can sustain on our maxed out back garden. The peas are delicious but take a lot of space for the return, the courgettes are ridiculously plenty for a time and the spuds disappear quickly. Tomatoes and cucumbers require sun and heat - and the small greenhouse only fits a few. And five pears? Better than none! Maybe some smart choices in relation to timing and/or a polytunnel and things would be better. 

Or maybe leave it to the experts? Ah, but where would the fun be in that? The picking of peas with the little princess, her wonder as the spuds are unearthed, the joy of a late strawberry after sun has completed its ripening and it is picked at the moment of perfection. And no air miles on those artichokes! Simple pleasures. Sure, we reap what we sow - and one could barely imagine such a rainbow of colour in the deepest dark days of winter. And while the pain in my back makes me wonder sometimes why we bother to do it at all, the bountiful shades of green that restore us each day coupled with the perennial hum of our busiest bees, probably equal in the pleasure. And sure, we're only halfway there - plenty of tastebuds to be tested yet. 

Life with two small humans is busy but I did manage to capture essence of rhubarb today in a form that will surely last beyond and long after Christmas 2016 (dare I mention it!). Rhubarb chutney - a simple but powerful blend of fresh rhubarb, apple cider vinegar, brown sugar, ginger, oranges and mixed spice. And barely a dent in the wall/glut of summer rhubarb. Jam will make another small hole in the supply, but barely. Apparently it can make
a great wine but I'm not quite ready for that adventure yet. Plenty of time for that. 

Simple pleasures for sure, and plenty of green to frame it. 

Beelicious!

Life is a tad busy here at the Holly Cottage. Have I adjusted to being at home 24/7? Yes. Am I glad to be a full time domestic goddess? Sure. Is everyone happy and healthy? Gloriously and thankfully. Am I on holidays, as so many casually refer to maternity leave being? Absolutely not - far from it. Hats off to stay at home parents! Forget the midnight and early morning feeding sessions for the new arrival, herself is also up at the crack of dawn and she definitely qualifies as the duracell kind. Wow. Where does all that energy and enthusiasm come from? Poor mumzy sadly laggs behind - must be those midnight feeds. It's certainly nothing to do with midnight parties.

And so, all are busy. The 8 week old being his cutesy self, the near 3 year old being her adorable threenager self, Holly being...well, Holly. And the rest of the residents? Just being, watching on in a surreal blur of parenthood.

Bee heaven, HC 2016

Busy as bees. And they - the bees - certainly are busy. And not a cry of complaint sounded. Thankfully we seem to have a very vibrant and healthy population in our garden - my next job is to set to identifying each of the different species present. And figure out how many of the 97 species - yes!! 97 different species in Ireland - are frequenting the Holly Cottage garden. Luckily there are some online resources available to do this - thanks to the great work of the National Biodiversity Data Centre based in County Waterford. Bees are important for our lives, not least for the delicious honey they create and which we seem to consume a lot of here in the Holly Cottage. Beware of what type you lift off the shelf in the supermarket though because not all honeys are created equal. Blending and processing can remove most if not all of the goodness (proteins, natural superpowers etc.) - so best to buy local and possibly even direct from your friendly suited beeman or beewoman. 

Red-arsed bumble bee....awww.
Listed as vulnerable to
 extinction in Ireland...double awww.

So how important are they and what are we doing about the widely reported global decline? Well, some clever economist/scientist types have estimated that the work of the bees is worth millions...more would say priceless. Our cute little black/amber/ginger/blonde winged friends are of enormous significance in terms of pollination and provide an altogether free service to us to pollinate food crops for our human family. What would happen if we lost them? Global famine? Global collapse of economies? Let's hope that doesn't happen, but it might. And the pollination of cherry blossoms by hand, as has to happen in regions of China, may have to be carried out by us clumsy and ground-bound humans in a ridiculously more widespread fashion. 

Thankfully we have a National Pollinator Plan in Ireland (of which I was humbled to be even a small part of its creation) which we hopefully will see the fruits of (pardon the pollination pun) in years to come. On a local scale, and I guess you can't get more local than your own garden, pesticide free and a generous planting of wildflowers will do the job. Nothing too fancy, as bees are less fussy than us in what they might consider worthy - dandelions provide the forage food for the hungry gap in May and clover species are also a significant food source. Basically, less weeding!

A Humble Bee made this :)

On a more sensory front, we have also discovered a very sweet and beelicous way of supporting the local bee economy. And it comes in a very attractive and tempting way - honey cake! The talented work of the Humble Bee company has given life to what may be one of the most interestingly irresistible cakes to be tasted outside of our own kitchen for some time. Made in County Offaly, this is one to watch out for. Simply beelicious to paraphrase a well known Corkonian domestic queen! Watch out for it. And in the meantime, spare a thought for the busy bee. We need them a hell of a lot more than they need us.  

Celebrating Oscar

The Irish summer is truly upon us - glorious sunshine and thunderous showers interspersed with periods of intense heat and then sudden wintry temperatures. And all in the space of five minutes! This is Ireland. And this is why our winter wardrobe also doubles us as our summer one - albeit without the gloves and scarves. 

We do have to be grateful however for the summer we had in May, those fabulously Mediterranean like days that beckoned the arrival of the newest member of the Holly Cottage brigade, the little bundle that is Oscar. 

"You talking to me?"

And this tough little man is testament to the truth that every child is different. Where Alannah required hourly attention, he is more than content to sleep for periods of hours in the daytime while the rest of us are busied with blowing bubbles through the hollyhocks, and stalking the emerging fruits of the Holly Cottage summer garden as we wait impatiently for their juicy, sweet delivery. 

Alannah has adjusted, though she does have a tendency to shout loudly into his face while hanging clothes pegs off his ears. He just stares in meditative silence. And she doesn't quite understand why we have to bring him with us everywhere we go - "leave him here Daddy, Oscar doesn't want to come" - just as well the 31 month old isn't in charge. Or is she? More of that again.  

Oscar just watches on, watching all stoically - and what does he see? At this stage it's only what lies within arm's reach. And yet somehow it feels he can see through us all. 

Our 42 days of togetherness has come to an end, and he is officially out of the newborn stage - already??!! The rabbit sized sleep suits of the earliest days are now giving way to more robust and manly outfits be-decked with dinosaurs and the cutest lions and elephants. This time is going to ebb and flow too fast. 

The nights are long but I am rewarded with the sweetest of secret smiles and unlimited hugs. And mummy's recovery from the guts of a year of carrying this handsome little warrior has been thankfully smooth and uneventful. Sore shoulders and lower back pain have returned - a sharp reminder of the challenges of nourishing a ravenous, exponentially growing human. But funny how the immense pleasure and satisfaction in watching him grow and develop cause all these irksome side effects - and the memory of nine months of nauseous pregnancy and intense hours of birth - to fade in the shine of his smiles and the light of his eyes. Mammy's boy, eh?

This is a time to celebrate. So here's to Oscar and the life before him, here's to the people who have helped us on his journey into this life, here's to the Holly Cottage brigade who are humbled at the gift of him and here's to the joy that he has already given. 

We are celebrating Oscar, heartfelt and wildly.