Finding Our Feet.

We are settling in.

Some of us not quite settled yet. A whole new world to get used to.

Getting to know the light in this new place.

I love it very much.

Follow it from room to room.

Loving the hill behind our house.
Our new playground.

Loving this new urban life that allows us to not have to give up the sea.
Loving so many friends on our doorstep.
Loving walking everywhere!

Loving that spring is rushing towards summer.
Happiness runs.

Learning From The Trees.

We had a lovely week off school, and even though for a lot of it the clouds sat low over the mountains, a mizzling rain pressing up against the windows, keeping us mostly indoors, we really didn't mind at all. We had lots of pyjama days, with plenty of baking and cooking going on, and just as cabin fever began to set in, the days began with blue skies and there was that little whisper of spring in the air.

There, in the stretch of light in the morning sky, or stirred into the tenacious sting of the winter wind, a hint of warmth that was not there before, just a momentary tenderness against our skin, and all of a sudden there is a new softness, a slackening off, in the physical tension of winter, and our bodies somehow fathom, in some deep place, that instinct of the trees to begin to let go of that green they have held onto during the dark months, to allow it to begin to unfurl.

Our hunt for a new home continues apace.
We have all been dreaming strange, house-related dreams. Uncomfortable, insecure kind of dreams that leave us unsettled. We have never undertaken anything like this before, as a family, and while it really is unsettling, I think it may be no bad thing. Sometimes we need to shake things up, to force ourselves out of our comfort zone, in order to unfurl and reach for the sky and warm air, in order to grow.

And so, we wait patiently for Something Wonderful to come our way, and I am grateful for the time of year, for that sense of the rising sap, and I know that, like the trees, if we trust our instincts, we will know just what to do when the time comes.

In Which The Milkmooners Go On An Adventure.

Has it really been more than two months since I peeked in here? Well, it's not like life has been uneventful, probably too eventful really, and therefore, where do I start? I won't recap, as it would not do justice to all the wonderful things that have been and gone, but instead I will just have to see which ones emerge over the next few posts here, as I actually have a number of marvelous things to share with you, in the style of The Early Days of Milkmoon, because that is where I have woken up on this side of the New Year, in a place of Blogging Rediscovery, which is quite exciting for me.

So, with photos from my archives (as I am still without a camera), of corners of our home, I will start with what is most currant for us here in the Milkmoon household: you may recall this post about our looming Leave-Taking.
But I have questions. For example, how does one begin to pack up a house? Accumulated belongings of more than sixteen years, times six people.... Let's just say I am somewhat overwhelmed by it.
Where does one start? Is there a system to it? We've never had to do it before. The last time we moved, we had a two roomed apartment, no furniture, and just ourselves and a four month old baby to pack up. It all fit into the back of a car.

We have become extremely adept at finding excuses to not do it. It's not that we don't want to move, although there is a reluctance to leave this beautiful place, of course, but it's more just the sheer enormity of this mountain we have to climb to get ourselves to the other side of it.
We are hoarders, of sorts, the waste-not-want-not kind of hoarders, the rainy-day kind, and while Jay would deny he is one in any way, I admit I am the worst of them. For example, what constitutes my 'studio' is a haphazard mountain of shoe-boxes, jars, bags, curvers, baskets, all stuffed with bits of fabric, ribbons, buttons, threads, haberdashery of all kinds, as well as postcards, photos, magazine cuttings, letters, and teetering piles of books... you get the picture. And four children means an accumulation of toys, partly because I have a penchant for antique/old-school toys, which are impossible to get rid of, right?

And books, oh my, the books. One of the things I valued most, growing up, was my Dad's extensive library, which I truly discovered in my late teens, early twenties, when I read as many classics as were there, poetry, plays, biographies, you name it. It truly was a significant part of my education, one which had a bigger impact on the adult I was to become than any other singular element. And so, without being conscious of it, I have since spent my adult years building a Library Of Significance for my own children. Add to that the fact that when we moved into this house the bookshelves were already full, full I tell you, of someone else's, very long, life's collection! I cannot begin to estimate just how many books we have, but I can say it runs to the thousands, with bags and bags of them stuffed into cupboards too. So you can imagine, can't you, the task in that department alone. Clearly I can't bring them all, so there will have to be a culling, won't there, something I am dreading.

I also love teacups, and saucers, and teapots, and jugs, and I adore antique furniture, the bigger the better, I hold on to clothes that one lad grows out of, so the next lad can wear them, even though there is three - five years age difference between them, baskets and cupboards full of every kind of art and craft materials for the children, oh I could go on...the list is random and endless.
Now don't get me wrong, I am actually really looking forward to a new, simplified,  pared (a bit, anyway) back, beginning in our new house, which no, we have not found yet, but are now wholeheartedly looking for.

However, first we have to get through the dismantling, sorting, packing, moving, bit. And that's after making a decision on whether or not to go after a house that ticks some very important boxes, but does not tick other very important ones. Is it possible to get everything you want when house hunting? We did last time. Literally. To such fine detail it would give you goosebumps and instant Faith In The Universe. And I want with all my heart to believe we can do it again, because to us our home is not just bricks and mortar, it is a beloved part of the family, and therefore must be something we can love. Oh! the responsibility! the expectations! the enormity! of it all. Plus the fact that there are now six of us, all with different needs and desires and hopes.
It's a very fine juggling act we are now involved in, and I hope we get it right.

The Leave-Taking.

There is a little house that sits on a spit of land between a marsh and a sea, a place with jackdaws in the chimney, where lizards hide in the grass with the tiny shrews, where swans glide overhead and murmurations of starlings loop through curlew cries, and at dusk the bats swoop in their beautiful dance as herons skim the tops of the reeds against the sunset. There are countless birds that throng the marsh here, among them terns and mistle thrush and finches, lapwings, even occasional owls, and in the evening pheasant wander in the garden, and sometimes, somewhere beyond the reeds, a peacock calls, his cry across the marsh sending a tingle down your spine.

I have written so many times about the weather here and how it changes the shape of this place, about the seasons and how each one blooms and swells, brings dustly moths on the walls, spiders along the windows, stormy seas, sea mists, dancing sunlit grasses, endless blue skies, and sunsets that take your breath away.

I did mention big changes around here, didn't I? Big changes that we have been studiously ignoring the possibility of for rather a long time, now.

You see, our golden age is over.

For the sixteen years we have been living here, I have been in a little bubble with my babies, cocooned in this most magical of places, like some little creatures from the Wind in the Willows, the seasons rolling around us as we burrowed in, and we grew into this land, the green and the salt seeping into our blood and bones, from the very formation of my babies. Our Eldest was barely four months old when we moved in, and the following three were born right here in the living room with windows to the sea, and windows to the green and the mountains, pulling all combinations of seasons and weather and time of day into their beginnings, all manner of the elements that make this place so miraculously special, into the weave that is our little family.

As the years have passed, they have grown, we too, myself and Jay, have grown, this place like a paintbrush against our skin, each night touching up where it did not find us in our day, a tender reassuring like a fine mist that layers, and over the years has become our skin, as though we are this place and this place is us. But now it is at an end. When the year turns, together we will pack the little pieces of us, the myriad of little things that have been put together to form our home, the collections of Us, and we will move. And though nowhere will ever match this place, with all our hearts we know it will be somewhere beautiful. I do need green outside my window.

We are on a rollercoaster of emotions about it all. Some are excited, some wholeheartedly against it, but it is out of our hands, regardless, and because of that I have decided to embrace this change, the timing of which I can't complain about. I no longer spend my days embraced in this magical cocoon with my babies and toddlers, now that our Smallest is in school, instead I am out in the world more, looking at what I want to do with this next phase of my life, and this makes it easier to accept.

So, this summer will be about making the most of this remarkable place, a summer of gatherings of friends and loved ones, of Celebrating, and later in the week I will share with you, one such gathering that we had this weekend.

Photo by Líosa.

And who knows what wonderfulness is just around the corner, for I know there is a place for us.

What The Sea Told Me...

I have a view. 

A most spectacular, ever-changing view. A view of marsh and mountains to the west of our little house. 

And we live mere meters from the sea, there it is, just to the east of us, can you see it? But no...we cannot actually see the sea from our house. For our house lies low and there between us and the sea flies the occasional train, rumbling past like a great metal horse, heading north to the city, or away to the south. 

There once were mornings, now it seems so long ago, I would take a moment to cross the tracks and have a look at the sea before my day began. Like Mole peeping his head up and sniffing the air, it was like my barometer, literally like opening my senses, yoga for the spirit, you can feel all that open sky, endless sea expand your mind. 
A great way to begin the day. And the earlier the better. 

But then a number of years ago those railway folks decided to put up a proper fence. 

So we put up a ladder to climb over. 

They took that. 

So from then on when we wanted to see the sea we had to stand on a chair, or a windowsill! Or walk to the crossing, which is fine on a fine day, but sometimes too much for little legs, and you know, it's just not the same...

But! Now I would like to share something with you. Something very special. Over the summer we acquired new neighbours. Nearest and dearest neighbours of the family kind! And oh how our lives have changed. It has been nothing but wonderful! The kind of wonderful that is the slamming of far off doors, of little footsteps running through the garden, down the new, secret path to the door. Of familiar voices ringing in the distant air, and sweet faces peeping in the door. 

And they have something. 
They have a most marvelous attic, and they have a view. A truly spectacular, ever-changing view of the sea! And yes, I am somewhat green around the gills! So finally, after months of brow-beating I have persuaded the lovely Lisa that she has to do this...

Photo of our sea by Lisa.
Taken from her attic window.

A new blog. And she has called it 'What The Sea Told Me.'

A sister blog to my view to the west. There is now a view to the east of this little bit of paradise. So do please drop by and say hello.

Photo of our sea at sunrise by Lisa.
Taken from her attic window.

I cannot tell you how this gladdens my heart...

Please Indulge Me A Moment Longer?

There will be real photos in the next post, I promise. But for now please indulge my latest penchant for such nostalgic images as these, as my devotion to all things Nostalgic is well known in these parts, and indulge I may. For another little while...

This littlest of mine, finally back on his feet after a whole week of poorliness, of broken nights, of coughing and fever. Always such relief, especially as I am always reminded of this time last year, something I would rather not do.
So between having a babe-in-arms again, and party preparations, it has been a quiet week here at Milkmoon the blog, which I hope to remedy this week.

Party celebrations I hear you ask? Yes! We've had another birthday here in the Milkmoon household. Our Only Girl is now twelve! A proper Tweenie, and her last year of it. And her birthday party was the most relaxing one I ever had the pleasure to host. All that was required of me was to provide food and cake for twenty (plus) children and they did the rest, including organising a Talent Contest which we had to judge. It was absolutely wonderful, the winner being an eight year old guest who got up and made up a song on the spot. A scurrilous tale that was hilarious and actually quite moving, and in the true bardic tradition named and shamed the rascal that broke his promise to her. As he sat there in the room. Marvelous. And yes, he saw the funny side!

So while they partied, we Mama's prattled, and enjoyed ourselves quite as much as the children did!

And with the earlier part of the week lovely and sunny, being home was a pleasure, and as we have our annual Solstice Party coming up, as well as some visitors from Paris in July, we've been snatching any spare moment we can to try and actually finish a number of housey things that have been on a very, very long finger indeed.

And I promise in the next few weeks I will have some long-overdue house pictures to share. Almost a year late, I know, but gradually becoming a real possibility.

And in the meantime, have a wonderful and beautiful week!

(I think I may just have to make this Nostalgia post thing a regular here...)

Things We Found.

When they tore down the wall,

there,

hidden,

by some unknown hand,

a newspaper page.

From 1928.

And behind a wall of old, old books,

which I always meant to look through, but never found the time,

until now,

this wallpaper.

I fancy from the same era.

Faded and still so beautiful.

Too aged to remove in one,

I fought to keep a little piece.

And have it now,

to remember these workmen of old,

who walked this floor,

and knew the view from my backdoor,

and signed their names on a post

and hid it within these walls.

I'll keep this too,

for you, whoever you were,

James Kiernan, Kilcoole Station. 1928.

Kitchen Bliss.

Yes, there are a lot of images in this post, and I feel the need to include a disclaimer! I do not own any of these images. They belong to the original photographers/owners and I have them here purely for their beauty. In other words, I have been collecting images that inspire me over the last couple of years and not being very careful about noting where they came from. So, if you know the origins of any of these images, then please do let me know so I can give due credit. And I hope I offend no one!

So we are half-way through the new bedrooms phase, but I have to admit all my mind can think about it my soon-to-be-new kitchen. And I've been pouring over all these collected images again and again... sigh...

It helps to keep these in mind, like a mantra, when I think too much about just how much worse it will get here when they start knocking down walls in my kitchen! 

The last two images above are from  this book. And the one above is India Knight's gorgeous London Kitchen, which you can see more of on the Living Etc website here.
In fact I'm pretty sure a number of these images are from Living Etc, and others are from Scandinavian design blogs/sites. 

Also, I love this house we stayed in last year.

I will get around to the bedroom inspiration pretty soon, but I think I'll have to get the kitchen bit out of my system first!

Ps: Check out Friendly Cottage where Sharon and Marty have been kitchen shopping too!

Three Days In...

A strange thing has happened.

I am feeling liberated by the chaos and mess in my house at the moment.

There is stuff in all the wrong places,

stuff that no longer has a home.

Every surface is crammed, every available spot has a pile... of one thing or another.

Now, normally I am a tiny bit uptight about the state of my house. We have a fair bit of clutter, and that I don't mind, but I find untidiness hard to live with. That's not to say I live with it a lot. I do. And I get uptight about it.

But six people living in the space we have makes it impossible.

 
However...

Now my house is a building site. Three days now. It is untidy in the worst possible way. More than ever before.

And I don't care.

Maybe it's because I know it's temporary. And knowing that allows me to give myself a break. And boy does it feel good!

And these photos are me ignoring the interior environment of my home and taking myself outside. Methinks there'll be plenty more of that to come...

Something Lovely.

So, getting on with the theme of decorating and houses etc, I want to share these gorgeous photos with you. The lovely Sharon from Friendly Cottage took them in Avoca and Cath Kidson and she has a wonderful post on painted wood on her blog. In it she waxes lyrical about how much she loves painted wood and I have to say I'm in total agreement with her. 

I just adore this green dresser! We have a similar one that is painted white and green (see below) but I am totally enamored with this one. (Jay doesn't agree but he might just come around!)

My Dresser.

And my recently acquired oak table that my Dad spotted in Dunnes Home sale for €50, (thanks Dad!) is lined up for a similar brightening up as this divine lovely, though I think I'll staple on my oilcloth a la The Yvestown Blog.

We also even have this very chair which is at the moment painted white. I went through a paint-everything-white-for-now phase which the older two children complained loudly about and I now feel ready for some colour. 

The colour scheme in the kitchen at the moment is pale pink with accents of red and orange. It works and it's fairly subtle but I'm ready for a change. 

I'm starting to get excited about planning for this remodeling now and I'll be sure to post some before and after pictures as we go. 

There really is so much inspiration to be had out there. I feel a few more posts on the subject coming on!