It’s chilly this morning and I burrowed down under the duvet. I was glad I put on the brightest duvet cover yesterday with the red bed spread. You need a bright splash in your decor when winter finally sets in and its rainy, chilly and grey. It reminded me of a little outing my husband and I took one January when we needed to get out from under cabin fever. We drove across the border to Fermanagh and took the road up from Belcoo’s Holy Well towards Boho (which is pronounced Bow that rhymes with Sew, not to rhyme with Soho!) There we happened upon Margaret Gallagher’s thatched cottage. She was in residence and invited us in to have a look around in a family homeplace that has not changed that much in 200 years. She was busy making her morning fadge, or soda bread, over the open fire. She lives her heritage, not just interprets it for visitors.
Memory is said to be the parent of poetry. That winter time jaunt a few years ago came to mind this morning as I set about poetry practice. The weather is very dull, with a hard rain. I had learned something from Margaret. When a climate can be dismal keep your interiors cheery. Today’s poetry practice celebrates Margaret Gallagher’s recipe for housewarming.
Margaret Gallagher's Housewarming
Dawn came without its usual
fire. The east’s staying schtum today.
It promises a permanent dirge,
a milky murkiness upon
our earth. But across the lintel
door within a house all dressed up
in primary reds and yellows,
the blue delph stacked in the dresser.
Even without the creel and chain
or hearth to cheer, it cheers through rain.
Copyright © Bee Smith 2018