The Holy Well I’ve Never Visited

The Holy Well I’ve Never Visited On St. Colm Og, a girl with laundry, and the six-mile drive I keep not taking I have lived most of my life within a few fields of a holy well, and I have never been to it. I spent years abroad, which would sound like a reasonable excuse, […]

Intro Marian Hayes

So. I did it. I actually moved to Ireland.

If you’d told me a year ago that I’d be writing this from a draughty 1860s farmhouse in the west of County Limerick, I’d have laughed and gone back to stressing about packing boxes in Frankfurt. But here I am. The boxes are (mostly) unpacked, the house is (mostly) standing, and my husband is (mostly) not losing his mind over the renovation. This is the house he grew up in, and we’re bringing it back to life one crumbling wall at a time. There’s something poetic about that, if you
squint. If you don’t squint, it’s just plaster dust and arguments about where the washing machine goes.