Have had the notion of transplanting wild Lilies to the Mass Rock-I saw the scene vividly in a dream & smelled their scent.
I am at last able to keep this Journal well hid-each evening when I have done with scribbling it is put away where no one however clever might find it. I could not keep it so private at the Cabin.
Aoife stitching herself a Frock these last evenings. I see she is not wearing the shoes made upon her father’s last, as I hoped she might in our new surroundings. She vows she prefers the bare feet in nearly all wether.
She has somehow wormed her milking stool into the parlor where she sits with her cloth and needle. In dying light from the west window I observe her face-it is unusually pensive & I try to imagine her thoughts-thoughts perhaps of a suitor? or some jollity she shared with her sisters on their monthly visit? Perhaps she imagines herself in this new gown the color of ripe peaches mulled with cream- & conceives the way the lads will catch their breath in their throats & speak too loudly among themselves when she passes.
He raised his head and listened for a moment to Cynthia’s breathing, and the rattle of beech leaves beyond the window. In the deep shadow of their room were gleaming sheets of thick paper, heavy with images. She had stood the watercolors on the chest of drawers and leaned them against the wall to dry. In the afternoon, he’d twice pulled off the road for her to sketch the landscape-but she asked to go back to the horse chestnut, and the only subject making it to the top of the chest was the loaf-shaped outcrop of Beann Gulban.
9 August
Very warm day; full moon-war news from America deeply agitating
Keegan not himself these last weeks-whistling one minute & the next silent & gaping as if struck by a vision of The Blessed Virgin herself.
C suspects he is in love. I cannot imagine
Keegan in love.
C has written out the list of dishes to be served & I transcribe them here for my own good pleasure when in ould age I sit by the hearth enjoying the hospitality of beard & pipe. I shall be astonished to read of the great strength with which God equipped us to do all that has been wrought at Cathair Mohr.
I have asked for Roast Swan which many find delicious, but C will have none of it-I will not devour beauty, she says, twill bring doom upon us. Aye, Keegan says, siding with her, we have doom enough without looking for it. I remind them both that all is beautiful, even the fine pig we’ll be roasting, but I have lost this dubious battle.
She reminds me that since we arrived from Philadelphia well over two years past we have delivered forty-seven Infants into this sere & indifferent world, thirty of whom survive & flourish & will likely be among us at the Feast. Twill be a proper blessing to hear the laughter of children about the place.
Twenty roast Geese
Twenty roast Hens stuffed
One hundred Hens Eggs boiled hard
Forty loaves Bread
Two hundred Yeast Buns
Ten pounds Goat Cheese
Ten pounds Cow Butter
1 roast Pig
1 roast Mutton
2 goates
4 bushels Potatoes roast in ash
2 bushels Beans with pork hock
20 mix berry Pies
20 apple Pies
3 tubs bread pudding
20 gallons Goat Milk (from Aiden Marsh)
I am reminded of the mammoth iron kettle by New York brazier John Trageser which we have stored in the stables. It is capable of holding two grown men & came to Uncle by way of a debt owed him. I declined to sell it for it is very novel indeed & Keegan will have the men fashion a kind of tall sawhorse from which to suspend the kettle above the fire. C & Keegan & I discuss how it might be used & agree on Fish Stew. We are quite merry at the prospect of such a wondrous thing as the Great Kettle having its part in the Great Day.
Keegan argues we need not do so much, but God has done so much for us, how can we not joy in seeing the pleasure of those who have near nothing at all? Rose McFee swears she will dance like a Hare to have such a fill of her ancient belly, though I wager it holds but a cupful.
Give or take a few, we expect two hundred men, women & children. The lawns shall be trampled to bits from the coming & going of the people & the cooks at the spit & the digging of the pit for our meate. We give thanks there is nothing yet in the lawns to be ruined save two young Beeches and a wild Bilberry. Horticulture is a decided weakness-I have no Eye nor learning for it yet do not wish to hire someone for the planning if I might by the grace of God do it myself. C & I agree that we did not come here to be the Lord and Lady of parterres nor to run great herds of any beast.
Keegan in Sligo for remaining provisions, including cut-rate tin plates & bowls from which host & guest alike will sup. Keegan does not approve the Expense of the afore-named items as he says they will not be used again. Oh but they will, I say, they will be used again when we gather to celebrate the liberty of the Irish people from centuries of Mayhem & Treachery. Before he turns his head away I see the look on him- perhaps he is not so hard against this notion as before.
Keegan does not mince words-he says the Missus O’Donnell must have a woman of all work if she is to manage such a pile as Cathair Mohr. I confess I still carry the burthen of a Cabin mentality which disposes me to count A as help enough-unless we were to entertain Society which I cannot imagine doing with the roads in their present condition. I continue to prove my indifference to C’s needs, thinking her capable of anything. Keegan’s counsel is well-taken & I will be applying for such when I am next able.
Uncle’s furnishings arrive by boat tomorrow at Dublin, to be loaded onto wagons and transported to Lough Arrow in time for the Festivities. What would Uncle say at the sight of his handsome carpets, paintings & many books displayed in a house such as God Himself and Uncle’s own fortune have provided? Arriving also will be Uncle’s carriage which I shall make use of daily. As it is a fine city carriage, we have but to countrify it a little-making it road worthy for such Regions as these.
We run to catch up with our plenteous blessings.
10 August
Rain at first light
Balfour’s man arrived at noon with a basket of fly-bit hares & a sack of bruised apples. I had not thought for a moment that Balfour might show himself at the Feast. Yet when I saw his offering on the cart bed, the thought of his intentions spread within me like a poison.
I handed these so-called neighborly provisions off to Keegan who gave the lot of it a hard look & handed it off to Fionn Connelly who is setting up the great Spit. Take this off the Place, he told Fionn.
Rain throughout the afternoon and into the evening.
11 August
Fairing off
I was called out last night to deliver two infants into this world-one from each of two sisters occupying the same Cabin at some distance from Cathair Mohr. Infants lusty & mothers hale. A girl named Biddy & a boy named Colm. I have once before seen how the close confinement of two women can spawn the conception & delivery of infants at the same time-it is a puzzling sort of contagion.
The new fathers who have scarcely a rag of flesh on their bones brought forth a mite of whiskey kept back for Fr Dominic and myself as looking ahead to this occasion. The lads are brothers both hardworking and these are their first born. They have promised to be at the Feast for they can get the loan of a pony & cart from their grandfather. As C was suffering one of her headaches, she sent A to ride with me as nurse. With naught but natural instinct, A proves herself competent & steady.