applesteamdream


Ireland Trip

Well here we are one week away from our first trip together to Ireland. This will be the first time Ric will view our little piece of Ireland in person, the place where our dreams will be made, the place we will begin our new life on 29th Feb 2016 (subject to change, we may not be able to hold off that long). 

We have booked our stay at Dungiven Castle quite close to our plot in the beautifully wild countryside of Culnady. I know you might say this is a bit of a waste of resources but we did get it at a snip of normal price on Last Minute.com, and aswell it’s a very special time.

A full report will follow this visit with as many photos as possible. I think you will see how a straw bale construction will blend completely with the surroundings and sustainable living can be achieved. 

All the best, Richard 

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Applesteam in Word

Applesteam

By the river, twenty yards to the other shore, high trees and grass of many shades fill my horizon,

A trickling stream on my left cascades to the river’s edge, like excited children running to join their parents. 

River bed clear to see, waters circle the smooth protruding rocks while sticklebacks scurry around their base jabbing about like darts.

Hypnotized by my view, a view 40 winters past, my memory paints a perfect picture.

I spin on my heals – leap and skip as my young legs once allowed towards my country house, whitewashed stone, small windowed but large is the door, hard to push.

Behind the door, I stand wide eyed in the dimly room, sunlight cast through each small window, sharp beams firing onto walls like lasers from an alien spaceship.

Cream enamel aga set to the right whitewashed wall, soot stained doors show its many years.

Branches of trees turned to carbon element, extracting energies.

I hear the vibration of a large pot bubbling on the stove, rattling like a constant passing train, the lid jiggling on top from which the applesteam escapes, filling the room with the sweet aroma of sugared boiling apples.

Already able to taste the crisp pastry’d pie in my mind.

I stand now, older, wiser, fatter, boiling my apples on a futuristic hob of black glass,

But still my mind casts to that place, as the Irish fields surrounded my simple life.

***

Richard