irish nesting

As I’ve mentioned before, my husband and I are absurdly fortunate to spend time every year in a family cottage in Ireland that's been home to generations of Mike’s family.

Needless to say, it is a beloved place. One side of the cottage faces a rocky hill, and the other side faces down to the sea. There is no phone, let alone a television or Internet, so what do we do? We wake up, light the fire, go back to bed with a pot of tea and our books. And whenever we’ve had enough of that, we wander out into a landscape so green that your brain hums a little trying to absorb all the color.

Over the decade that I’ve been going there, and the lifetime that my husband has spent there, this teeny tiny cottage with three-foot thick stone walls has become another home for us. Especially when we’re there with full cupboards, smoke curling out of the chimney, and laundry hanging on the line.

And more and more, we want to add our own personality to this favorite place.

So this time around, I took the bright-orange couch and chair set that were hand-me-downs a few decades ago, and cut patterns for slipcovers.

This is just the before, I don't have the after yet. But this is my best souvenir. Returning home with my suitcase full of pinned-together muslin. Tangible proof of our long-term plan.

I’m not going to lie. I worry that sewing a slipcover set is above my skill level. But that’s sort of the narrative of our lives. Taking on projects that are a reach, and being proud of the results. Because even when those results are a little wobbly, they’re our own.