family | Ann Leary, author of The Good House

Lillinonah in Winter

My blog was disabled for a short time today, which worked out fine, because I had my wonderful in-laws visiting. If I did anything right in this life it was marrying into that family. My mother-in-law, Nora Leary, is the youngest 80-something on earth. So fun, so warm and so easy-going. Nora grew up on a farm in Ireland with no running water, no electricity, tons of siblings, and according to her, the happiest childhood anybody could ever imagine. She and Denis’s father worked very hard, first in London, then here in the US, to put their four kids through school and they are all wonderfully successful and now, so are her grandchildren. Who all adore her. This year Grandma Nora got a Macbook for Christmas. She’s on Facebook and my nieces and I are scheming about setting up a fan page for her. It was a great, great visit.

Notes From Marblehead

Thank you all for the kind words about Steve. I’m in Marblehead with my mom until next weekend. Here’s a shot of Brown’s Island.

Some quaint streets in Old Town:

The names of the streets? I have no idea. I lived in Marblehead from 8th grade until college and rode every street and alley on my bike many, many times (I was lazy about getting my driver’s license), but never really paid much attention to the names of the streets. Fortunately people around here don’t really use proper street names too often, but will say things like, “Across from where Penni’s used to be,” or “Next to the Rippah” which is a great old dive called The Riptide.

A Sad Time

In loving memory of Stephen W. Howe

PUTTING IN THE SEED by Robert Frost

You come to fetch me from my work to-night
When supper’s on the table, and we’ll see
If I can leave off burying the white
Soft petals fallen from the apple tree
(Soft petals, yes, but not so barren quite,
Mingled with these, smooth bean and wrinkled pea);
And go along with you ere you lose sight
Of what you came for and become like me,
Slave to a Springtime passion for the earth.
How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed
On through the watching for that early birth
When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed,
The sturdy seedling with arched body comes
Shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs.

Happy Easter

I know that many of you are spending today with your loved ones and because it’s a holiday, I thought I’d do something that I have never done. I’m going to spread a little Leary sunshine by posting a video I took of my adorable family on our recent vacation.

I know it’s short, but my son called security and I had to stop filming.

Happy Easter!

Uncle Sull

Somebody asked in a recent comment whether Uncle Sull is into dogs and indeed he is. I realize that I haven’t properly introduced my Uncle Sull to you all, though you’ve all come to know him here, through his comments, so please allow me to do so now. I think some of you are under the misconception that my Uncle Sull is some tweedy old pipe-smoking Republican, and he’s nothing like that at all (except for the Republican part).

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving to you all, dear blog readers. Today we walked all up and down the streets of Montmartre and through the Latin Quarter. We had a lovely guide who is American but has lived in Paris for much of her life and is very knowledgeable about French history and by the end of the day I was clutching my throat with both hands and making sure that my head was still securely attached to my neck. Those French sure knew how to throw a revolution. Our American revolution was still quite recent when the French gave greedy old King Louis and Marie Antoinette the heave-ho, and it’s clear they meant to upstage us with all their casting about of freshly liberated heads of state (and I mean just the heads)and martyring of nuns and whatnot.

Yummy!

Some of you know my camera travails of recent months. Well, at the airport on Sunday, as I reached into my giant carry-on satchel for passports, etc. my new-ish camera leapt from the bottom of the bag in an apparent last bid for freedom before we boarded, and it landed on the hard floor, spinning crazily beneath the feet of our annoyed fellow travelers. The flash was destroyed. So now, all the indoor and nighttime photos you see will either, a)suck or, b) have been taken by my daughter Dev.

Yesterday, we walked and shopped. It was raining but just a little and very mild.

Let’s Name the Puppies

pup3 Devin and I visited Charlotte yesterday to check on the puppies. They’ve really grown in the past week and it’s clear that their father(s) outsized their dear little mother, Peanut. They’re almost half her size already and they’re only four weeks old.

The puppies need names. I’ll introduce you to each and we can help Charlotte think of appropriate names. Also, all five four puppies are still available for adoption. Charlotte will only consider very good homes. She’s asking for a $50 adoption fee which she will then turn around and use to pay the adoption fee at the kill shelter where she finds dogs to rehome. So, for each of Peanut’s puppies that finds a new home, an older, perhaps needier dog will be rescued.

Name Your Life

scarehouse It was a spooky, rainy weekend here in New England. I took this photo of my house the other night. See all the rain spots on the lens? Or are they actually ghostly orbs?

Devin is working on her college applications and last night she made the mistake of telling me the topic of one of her essays. It was something like: If you had to come up with a title that would describe your life up until now, what would it be?

Devin joked that she was considering calling her life Of Mice and Bats.

New York Times

Remember when I blogged about the New York Times coming to our house to interview us and take our photos? Well, I have just received an email from our very own Tracy, informing me that the piece is up on the Times’ website. You can view it here.

There’s a slideshow on the Times site and I’ve nabbed some photos to post here. The photographer, Andrew Sullivan, was really great, as was Beth Maker, the reporter.

Now do you see why I love that grey horse almost more than life itself? Have you ever seen a horse with a sweeter expression. Love.

In loving memory of Stephen W. Howe

PUTTING IN THE SEED by Robert Frost

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