|
Good morning from Our Little House,
|
I'm actually writing this one to you on Wednesday morning, and we've somehow been gifted a little midweek weekend here.
|
The schools are closed today because of a public-sector strike, so nobody had to be anywhere particularly early this morning. I didn't wake until 8am, which felt positively luxurious, and even then nobody seemed in much of a hurry to get moving.
|
Outside, it's one of those lovely October mornings. Breezy enough that the trees are dancing around outside the kitchen window, a little chilly, and the sun is doing its absolute best to make an appearance between the clouds.
|
Although, strangely, it really hasn't been particularly cold here yet. We've only turned the heating on this week, and even then the thermostats don't seem to be calling for it very often. There have been a few 6°C mornings and quite a few occasions when I've optimistically hung washing outside only to watch it get absolutely lashed on — although the wind usually manages to dry it again eventually. The joys of an Irish clothesline in October. 😂
|
|
But the darkness has most definitely arrived.
|
Most mornings I'm up at around 6am and it is pitch black outside. Proper depths-of-winter darkness.
|
I wander into the kitchen in my pyjamas, turn on the lamps and fairy lights, ask Alexa to put Newstalk on quietly in the background and make myself a cup of tea.
|
|
And lately I've been reading.
|
I listen to an enormous number of audiobooks, but I used to be a prolific reader and, somewhere over the last few years, I found it harder to sit still with an actual book and concentrate for any length of time.
|
|
So I've started giving myself half an hour in the morning. No grand reading challenge. No target. No number of books I'm supposed to finish before the end of the year. Just me, still in my pyjamas, with my tea and my book while the rest of the house sleeps.
|
And I'm beginning to look forward to it.
|
At about 6.40, real life begins again. 😂
|
I start calling teenagers. Lunch boxes appear. I'm chopping fruit and vegetables, making tea for one child and hot chocolate for another, putting coffee on for myself and my husband, checking bags and uniforms and all the usual bits and pieces.
|
Around the same time, the animal contingent begins making its presence known. The dog appears. The cat appears. The ducks start shouting to be released. My daughter heads outside in her pyjamas and wellies to feed the ducks and rabbit.
|
And somewhere in amongst all of that, I've realised that we've found our rhythm again.
|
October feels like ordinary life again
I think that's one of the things I love most about this part of autumn.
|
September can feel like one long adjustment.
|
Back to school. New timetables. New routines. Activities starting again. Everyone trying to remember where they're supposed to be and at what time.
|
And then October arrives and somehow we're simply… living it.
|
This week has actually been quite full. I taught on Monday and had a busy but really lovely day. Tuesday had Pilates, the pony, blog work, school runs, dinner and, rather unexpectedly, the return of a little project I'll tell you about further down.
|
|
But it didn't feel frantic.
|
And I think there's a difference.
|
I've found a rhythm that suits me at the moment. I love doing the occasional day of teaching and then coming back to this quieter working life at home. Even on mornings when I'm going out to teach, I still get up early because that hour or so before everyone else wakes seems to put my head in the right place for the day.
|
And perhaps that's one of my autumn comforts too.
|
The house is turning inwards
|
I did something at the weekend that I tend to do several times a year.
|
I moved all the furniture. 😂
|
Our sitting room has large French doors leading straight out to the back garden, so during summer I arrange everything around those doors. They're open for months. People wander in and out. Food and drinks are carried through to the patio. The furniture needs to stay out of the way because the whole house seems to spill outdoors.
|
|
But on Saturday morning I looked around the room and thought:
|
This isn't working anymore.
|
It's a north-facing room, so once autumn arrives it becomes quite dark, even during the day. I wanted it to feel smaller somehow. Warmer. Somewhere we'd actually want to gather on a dark evening. So I started moving things.
|
|
The sofas now face one another more than they face the television.
|
|
There were immediate complaints.
|
|
"But we can't see the TV properly!"
|
A few evenings later, though, I've noticed we're all gravitating towards that room again. Homework and study get finished. Someone wanders in. Someone else follows. The curtains are closed around 6.30, the lamps have been on for an hour or so, I'll light a candle, and before long we're all sitting in there chatting or half-watching something together.
|
|
I didn't buy anything for it.
|
I pulled out the blankets we already own, rearranged the cushions and have rather shamelessly commandeered the heated fleecy blanket my daughter received for Christmas a couple of years ago.
|
|
There's even a basket of logs and kindling sitting hopefully beside the door.
|
|
We haven't lit the fire yet.
|
But the logs are ready. 😂
|
|
And perhaps that's what I've been noticing about autumn comfort this year.
|
|
It doesn't necessarily require anything new.
|
Sometimes it's simply using what we already have differently.
|
Little rituals returning
Our weekends have changed too.
|
During the summer I was doing Reformer Pilates about four times a week and often went on Saturday or Sunday mornings. I've cut that back to Tuesdays and Thursdays now and, unexpectedly, I'm really enjoying having my lazy weekend mornings back.
|
Some weekends I'll put frozen croissants, cinnamon swirls or maple and pecan plaits into the oven, make a big pot of coffee and we'll sit around in our pyjamas far longer than we probably should.
|
|
And on Saturday evenings we've accidentally started another little tradition.
|
After Mass, instead of a proper dinner, we've been making what can only be described as party food. 😂 Pizza, chips, cocktail sausages, onion rings, potato croquettes, little pastry parcels — whatever we fancy — spread around the coffee table while we watch Strictly Come Dancing and The Voice.
|
|
Nothing sophisticated whatsoever.
|
I've started doing a proper Sunday roast again — tablecloth, linen napkins, candles, good glasses, a few little pumpkins on the table and enough roast potatoes, Yorkshire puddings, vegetables and gravy that nobody needs to cook again on Monday. Roast chicken one week. Turkey and ham another. Roast beef last Sunday.
|
It's funny how differently we eat as the seasons change without necessarily deciding to. Even this week I've made spaghetti Bolognese and a big creamy lasagne, and there are pork chops, mashed potatoes and vegetables planned for tonight.
|
|
Food becomes warmer. Heartier. Slower.
|
|
This week's free printable — Autumn Comforts
All this yabbering about autumn comforts is rather appropriate because that was exactly what Sunday's Free Printable of the Week was about.
|
If you follow me over on Instagram, you may already have seen it. I share a free printable there every Sunday morning — sometimes something completely new, sometimes something lovely from the existing library that deserves another outing.
|
But I know plenty of you aren't on Instagram at all, which I completely understand. I have rather mixed feelings about social media myself sometimes! So I wanted to pop it in here too.
|
|
And one of the comments someone left about this printable really pleased me.
|
|
They loved that it wasn't another to-do list.
|
It isn't an autumn bucket list you're supposed to complete before the leaves disappear. There are no prizes for drinking the hot chocolate, lighting the candle, taking the woodland walk and wearing the cardigan before November. 😂 It's simply a collection of little comforting things you might choose from when you feel like making an ordinary afternoon or evening a little nicer.
|
|
Because so many of the things that make life feel lovely are already within our reach.
|
|
The blanket that's been in the cupboard since March.
|
|
Something warm for dinner.
|
Closing the curtains and lighting a lamp.
|
|
We can become so caught up in the aesthetic of a season that we forget we don't actually have to buy the season.
|
Sometimes we just have to notice it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
And speaking of not making things harder than they need to be…
Something else happened this week.
|
Seasonal Notes is back. 🎙️
|
|
A few weeks ago, one of you wrote to me after discovering my little podcast. She had listened her way through the existing episodes and asked whether I was ever going to bring it back.
|
|
So naturally I did what I tend to do.
|
I started planning. What would the episodes be about? How would they fit alongside the blog? When would I record them? Did I need an entirely separate podcast content plan? And eventually I realised I was making the whole thing considerably more complicated than it needed to be.
|
I already write one thoughtful essay every Tuesday. And I love audiobooks, podcasts and talk radio. Why not simply read the Tuesday essay?
|
So that's what Seasonal Notes is going to be for now: another way to enjoy the Tuesday writing if you're somebody who would rather listen while you're walking, driving, cooking or pottering around the house.
|
|
Yesterday I sat down with the lovely podcasting microphone my eldest helped me set up and recorded this week's essay.
|
I wasn't completely happy with the sound. I thought my voice sounded too loud. Then too harsh. Then I became increasingly aware that I was speaking, which is always helpful when recording a podcast.
|
|
And eventually I had to stop.
|
|
Because the essay I was recording was about letting good enough be good enough.
|
|
After the fourth attempt I finally thought:
|
|
Ciara. For goodness' sake. Press publish.
|
|
Is it exactly how I'd like it to sound yet?
|
|
Will I learn a little more about the microphone and recording and become more comfortable as I go?
|
|
But Seasonal Notes is back.
|
And that feels really good.
|
You can listen through the website or find Seasonal Notes on Spotify, Apple Podcasts and Substack.
|
|
And if listening isn't your thing, Tuesday's original essay is here:
|
|
Maybe that's another kind of comfort I've been learning lately.
|
|
Knowing when enough is enough.
|
|
Knowing when something doesn't have to be perfect before it can be worthwhile.
|
|
Knowing when to put something down and say:
|
From our little house…
We have another week or so to go before the school midterm break, and I think everybody is beginning to need it.
|
|
We'll head west to Mayo for a few days during the break, to my parents' house overlooking the Atlantic. The weather will quite possibly be atrocious, but I'm already looking forward to big fires, walks whenever the rain allows, mountains, sea and a complete change of scenery.
|
For now, though, I'm rather enjoying ordinary October.
|
This morning, on the way to the dog groomer, I drove along the country road where I grew up.
|
|
Every time we rounded another bend I was saying, "Oh, look at that!"
|
|
My daughter initially found this highly amusing.
|
|
By the time we'd reached the groomer's, even she had conceded:
|
|
"God, it really is gorgeous."
|
Perhaps that's what October is giving me this year. Not excitement exactly. Not novelty. Just a lovely sense of normal life settling back into place.
|
|
Reading in the dark at 6am.
|
|
Lunch boxes and hot chocolate.
|
|
Curtains closing earlier.
|
|
Everyone finding their way back to the sitting room.
|
|
|
|
|
P.S. A little Alfie update ❤️
|
Here's Alfie, just back from the groomer and looking like an absolute floof. 😂 Poor little man has had a rough few months and had been quite sore, so after a recent trip to the vet — including a general anaesthetic, X-rays and a really thorough examination — we finally discovered that he has quite a lot of arthritis in his hips, along with a few problems around his back knees too.
|
|
Thankfully, his new pain-relief treatment seems to have properly kicked in and he has a whole new lease of life. He's full of energy again, in great form and, most importantly, much more comfortable. We finally felt he was ready for a proper groom today, and just look at him!
|
Alfie is a Shih Tzu–Bichon cross and will be ten soon, so he's becoming quite the distinguished little gentleman. Although I'm not sure the Halloween neckerchief is helping with the dignity. 😂 His groomer always sends him home in one, and I think this might be my favourite yet.
|
|
Next stop: his Christmas haircut. 🎄❤️
|
|
|
|
|
Stay in touch – I’d genuinely love to hear from you — This little letter is very much a two-way conversation. If something here resonates, if you have a thought to share, or if there’s something you’d love to see in a future newsletter, blog post, or printable, I’d really love to hear from you.You can simply reply directly to this email, send a message via the contact form on the blog, email me at hello@ourlittlehouseinthecountry.com, or say hello over on Instagram — whatever feels easiest.
|
|
Comments on the blog or Instagram are always welcome too. I read every single one.Thank you, as always, for being here and for taking the time to read along.
|
|
|
|
Knowing When You’ve Done Enough
|
|
|
|
There is always something else we could be doing. Another improvement, another plan, another thing to organise. But what if we've already done enough? A personal reflection on perfectionism, getting older, letting go of unnecessary pressure and learning to enjoy the life we've worked so hard to create.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
What Are You Filling Your Life With?
|
|
|
|
What are we filling our lives with? A reflection on attention, ordinary goodness and learning to notice what deserves more room in the lives we're already living.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A Slower Life, Right in the Middle of a Full One
|
|
|
|
Slow living doesn't necessarily mean having a slow life. An autumn reflection on intentional living, seasonal rhythms, full family days and learning to notice the life that's already happening around us.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Slow October: 31 Simple Ways to Cosy Up Your Days This October
|
|
|
|
Welcome to Slow October — 31 gentle invitations to notice the season, find little moments of comfort and connection, and enjoy the heart of autumn. Download the free illustrated and large-text October calendars plus the October Journaling Reflections page.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
When the Days Feel Like Themselves Again
|
|
|
|
There’s something lovely about summer days losing their edges. But as autumn returns, I’m rediscovering the quiet comfort of the week finding its shape again — Friday feeling like Friday, Sunday feeling like Sunday, and ordinary life settling back into its familiar rhythm.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
