Life in Donegal

 

Ireland brought our first Work Away experience, and I can now declare with absolute certainty that it will be a hard one to beat. Our hosts, A--- and P---, welcomed us to their house as one of their own, making sure we were fed, watered, and warm at all times.

Life in Donegal County proved a 180-degree turn from the bustling atmosphere of London and fast-paced New York before that. But Jay and I found our brains quickly settled by the peaceful silence (apart from our very communicative sheep neighbors) and stunning scenery that composed the north countryside. Fintown, where we made our final turn-off, might have been missed if we blinked at the wrong time, as the saying goes. At first, I was actually a bit worried -- Would we have enough to do here? Why hadn't I brought another book?

I neededn't have feared; these concerns was quickly quelled when we met C----- and E--, the six-and two-year-old inhabitants of the household.  They were both a bit shy at first, but once we became buddies, I knew we had our work cut out for us. C----- responded to my interest in his ninja-dance skills by picking a bouquet of daffodils for me while I had my first nap at the little cottage. E-- reminded us all who was boss during a particularly hectic nighttime routine when she raised herself up in her father's arms and yelled, "BEE BEE BEE BEE BEE BEE BEEEEEEE!!" with the voracious confidence of ten thousand warriors. "Welcome to the madhouse," A--- joked, holding her hands up in helpless apology. Jay and I were enchanted.

As it happened, I never passed a boring moment at the Fintown house. When we weren't working, Jay and I were fixing a snack, or helping chop vegetables for dinner, or playing Kings and Queens,  or listening to the radio (John Creedon, of course), or discussing life questions over beer or tea, or going for countryside walks.... I did manage to find several good books, as well. Jay started with I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, I with The Curious Incident of the Dog at Nighttime, and then we swapped. He tackled a tome of Middle Eastern war history after that, while I whipped through Lord of the Flies (Simon -- !) One day I found myself in the childcare section and browsed through Taking Care of Toddlers liked that so much I ended up reading Secrets to Happy Children*  cover-to-cover. Even the week without the kids, when they were on holiday down south, passed more quickly than we'd anticipated.

The work itself held a different kind of meditative energy.  Donegal weather is infamously unpredictable, and we saw four seasons in one day for the first week or so of our stay. Hail storms on our loft bedroom's skylight would wake us up, sunshine teased us through breakfast, storm clouds loomed ominously over our outdoor work, and rainstorms often dismissed us to afternoon tea. During many of these days, we spent the work hours organizing and housekeeping the cottage interior.

By week's end, once the weather had cleared up, we set out clearing land for a stone path for the upcoming guest cottage. We also wrestled  a series of gnarly "winds" (gorsebush) by the property line. I was permitted to use a handsaw, which I think means I've carved out my position as local badass. I know how to throw a knife at the ground so its blade sinks and sticks quivering in the soft earth, like it ain't no thing. Just call me Bravehart Brow.

The winds and the stone path took us through the first week or so, then we moved on to painting the cottage & shed with a fresh coat of limestone wash. During this time I was lent a navy blue Rosie-the-Riveter-esque jumpsuit, which I enthusiastically accessorized with a bandanna headscarf and a pair of on-loan "wellies." I wore this outfit for about five days straight, out of sheer fondness for its quirky components.

Jay took a similar pride in constructing a new fence and holding pen for the property. He proudly yielded a pickaxe and sledgehammer in ways which made my face twist prune-like in fear.

Each night we went to bed with a simple satisfaction at having completed our day's work. There was no rat race ladder looming over the day's success, no mirror of comparison by which our triumphs might be measured and lessened. The focus was on completing the work efficiently -- and in a way that involved and benefited all parties. It was, as the Irish would say, "grand."

Of course, it wasn't all work. When we learned hitchhiking was not only legal but practically encouraged, we toured our way along the coastal towns. We took a few chilly trips to the beach and admired the crashing waves and tidepools. On our last full day in Ireland, A--- took us to Glenveagh National Park, with its a beautiful castle and array of charming gardens.

We grew to admire this happy family and their humble lifestyle. I found myself drawing up a list of domestic habits to carry forward to my next home (wherever and whenever that will be....)

Keep a carafe of drinking water filled on the kitchen table. Use just one mug throughout the day. Leave uneaten bread and porridge on an outdoor ledge for the birds. Compost what you can, and use it to cultivate delicious purple broccoli in your own garden. Clean the house during the John Creedon radio hour. Concern yourself with what information children receive and how they express themselves, rather than what they wear or how they conform. Live within reason, and don't waste energy wishing for things you don't need. Create, explore, question, laugh, and welcome your guests the second they walk through the door.

This was our Irish experience, and it's one I hope to carry in my heart always. In hopes that "the road may rise to meet us" again, farewell Donegal - and thank you, A--- & P---!

*Yes, I know them; no, I'm not telling.