Written May 16
Mary and the kids went off to a first communion for a member of church (much to the chagrin of Niamh), so they dropped off Matt and I off at town to bomb around for awhile.
Matt ate a giant breakfast sandwich with bacon and eggs and sausage. I was in love with the little stores, and I kept on thinking of when my mom said that the nicest thing about living in England was that the name on the store matched the name of the person on the inside working it. That was very true here, which is excellent. All the fruit looks smaller but higher quality than at home.
We found the Monaghan Shopping Centre, a tiny mall in town. They had a fruit store in it. Seriously. Like produce. Clothes, clothes, electronics, clothes, bananas. What's that all about? It was brilliant, regardless.
Another effed up thing was the toilets in the middle of the town. They were like little phone booths or something. Matt is showcasing one here.
Walking into the library, we ran into Carole, the American who is running the program. (Super sweet and intelligent lady.) Talked to her for a bit, and went back to where she's staying. I mentioned her previously, the name of the lady with the gorgeous house is Freida. Absolutely lovely women. If there's one thing I want to accomplish in life, it's to be like Freida when I'm a mother. More on her in a bit. Carole mentioned that she wanted to go back to a graveyard from the 1600's to early 1800's, and Matt and I were way down for that. I absolutely love graveyards. I just love seeing how people express their last word of love for those who passed. They're always quiet and beautiful and cause me to daydream about what kinds of people they were when they were alive.
Carole found the church, but can't exactly remember the pathway to the graveyard. We all pop in and see this absolutely beautiful church that has to be hundreds of years old. The only thing that I thought was kind of off was an iron crow next to the alter. Kind of dodgy if you ask me. Creepy.
Carole found the pathway which had been paved since the last year, and we go into the initial round of head stones, all modern. Really beautiful Celtic crosses and the like, against a breathtaking backdrop of the drumlins. Drumlins are the little rolling hills Ireland is so famous for, made when the glaciers were retreating north at the end of the last ice age.
Further down the path is where the old graveyard is. I can't describe how beautiful it was. The pictures really speak for themselves. Unfortunately it was POURING rain and POURING hail, so I didn't get as many pictures as I would have liked. One thing that made me sad was that while the graves from the 50's to 90's were mowed and flowers and statues placed on them, the graveyard from 1830 back wasn't even mowed. I guess it's a case of money, but it still seems like an absolute shame. The oldest grave I saw (no picture) was from 1610, the grave of a soldier. I was thinking all day about what that would have been a conflict of. Isn't that too early for Cromwell? It's seven years after Elizabeth I died, so plantation was already firmly rooted. I'm thinking it was William the Orange, as James took over for Elizabeth. Hmm. I could get my history of Ireland, but it's too far. I'll check tomorrow.
Utterly soaked (Carole and I more so than her husband Randall and Matt, as they chickened out early), we head back to Freida's. What a warm, gracious, women. She made a fire for us (with charcoal and plastic in addition to wood, which worried me slightly) and hung up some of our clothes to dry, and insisted on making Matt and I chicken on brown bread. (It's exactly what it sounds like.) The bread was wonderful, she makes it herself. She whipped up some bread right when we were sitting there. Took her about two minutes. Whole grains, wheat germ, buttermilk, baking soda, bam, in the oven. Delicious. She then insisted on another sandwich (she didn't have to insist too hard) and carrot cake that she had made previously. A lot of orange and cranberries. Mmm.
Mary showed up to take us home and we spent the day talking to and playing with the kids. I figured out the spelling. It's Niamh (Nieve) and Aisling (Ashling). Boy, do they ever love decorating Matt with my jewelry. They think it's the bees knees. That evening when we were watching Britain's Got Talent, Mary turns to us with the kids climbering all over the both of us and says, “God, it seems as though you've been here always, hasn't it? I can't imagine it without you.” It really got to me. Two days and I'm already family.
I love it here.