I thought maybe if I covered that expanse of white siding underneath the dining room bay window with some sort of beautiful planting, the reality of its stark truth would be hidden from view. I thought that maybe something green and luscious, and edible, perhaps, would make up for how vacuous the space actually was. And the house inside, devoid of late night gigglings or sneaking into the fridge to feed one another cake, straight from the bakery box. I’d planted a fig. For, I don’t know, good luck? Fertility? Just some damned semblance of life? And, it grew, I’ll give it that. But, it never did fruit. Not once. The first summer here, I thought, “I’ll never have a home like that again,” and while in that moment, I was actually feeling sorry for myself. What I didn’t realize was that, no, I’d never again have a home that was just a shell. Here, I’d build real warmth, make real love, and thanks to one lone plant on clearance at Home Depot, even have figs. I planted the tree with just a spade, as my mean nextdoor neighbor wouldn’t loan me a shovel. And the following year my new rambunctious puppy dug up my fledling fruit tree. But today! Lawd, Almighty, today, I took a look at what a few months back was barely a few twigs in the frost, and there is fruit!! I am a grandmother! My baby fig tree is making babies of its own. I am proud and happy and cannot wait to taste the sweet jam on warmed French bread toast with chevre. Even in this heat, life is good!

Our room in Teahan’s, Crowmane, County Kerry, looks out over the Castlemaine harbor. The tide is low, as are the clouds. Ireland is this gentle palette of blue-gray, gray, and green. There’s a field behind the inn where a hare lives, and in the surrounding countryside, amongst the smattering of houses, there are cow and sheep fields. It’s just lovely.

The girls are still asleep, but I’ve gone down for coffee. Mary, the house manager was there, tending to a table of tourists from America, men, looked like golfers to me. Soon she’ll run “one of the Ukrainians” into town. They’ve been hosting refugees here for months now. When we arrived yesterday, Mary told us about a family of Pakistanis who’s stayed for months, getting ferried about, only to leave suddenly without a thanks, and leaving their 17 year old son behind to pack 4 trunks of their belongings and travel to Dublin alone. Mary said the rest of the refugees come only with plastic bags of their belongings.

Last night a family arrived with their baby. I am sitting here in the room, appreciating the view, the coffee, and my daughters, safe and asleep in their bed.