Crumbs From the Corner: Adventures in Woolgathering

Monday, December 22, 2008


"Night is a world lit by itself."
-Antonio Porchia

My brother moved recently to a crumbly farmhouse in the middle of a great green nowhere. He was insistent that I see his home before departing Ireland again; so one cold night we set out from Mater's gate and sank deeper into the countryside.
My sibling was in a fine jocular mood, full of proud delight to show me where he lived, that he had chosen a corner of heavy silence and unsullied beauty.
He narrated, for my benefit, directions that explained the path we were taking and the precise location of the house.
A colossal full moon shimmered over us, closer than we had ever seen it and promising to touch the treetops in an instant.
From the frost-coated window I could distinguish the silhouette of hedges, the curve of fields dark and bare. The road was suddenly impossibly narrow, pocked here and there with dents.
Then my brother said, "turn left at the moon," turning left and laughing, the house emerging ghostly pale from the shadows.


Pappy said...

I hope he remembered to polish the hob. Sounds like a place I might like to live. If you keep up these great descriptions of the Irish countryside I might be forced to apply for a visa. Pappy

Phyllis Hunt McGowan said...

Texican, I hope they're good descriptions- I just tell it like I used to see it from the back garden.
My brother's house is in a great place- he can see the city lights in the distance but he has no neighbours. Best of both worlds.
And certainly, the hob was polished ;) good catch.

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