A big hello from the West of Ireland. From my window, this sunny
September morning, I see crows like cardboard cut-outs in a tilted
tree; they are residents in their own tower blocks. Cars and trucks
move city-ward and houses flank the road like sentinels. No horses jump
the mud-shackled poles in the show-ground, but magpies wait for
who-knows-what. The town's two spires reach for loftiness; the empty
church straddles a hill.
This morning I translate love poetry from Irish Gaelic to English; I
answer e-mails; I blog about vegan pizza. I think about walking to the
Post Office to lodge savings for our marriage (not wedding, marriage). I feel
hungry and think about walnut muffins (there might be one
I submit a twice-rejected flash story to a new-to-me webzine and hope
for the best. I flick through my current notebook for inspiration and
find this: 'snake beans in chilli flakes.' Where and when did I eat that?
But now I have to go to collect The Baby from school. I hope this
postcard finds you all well, happy and productive,
Nuala Ní Chonchúir
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Read NNC's story, "Vincent in the Yellow House."
w i g · l e a F