A Short Sketch
I heard the bleating beyond the fuchsia hedge as I walked down the lane. Loud, persistent, mournful.
Reaching the gate to the field, I saw Mary standing surrounded by six-month old lambs, bleating and nudging at her legs.
“How are the lambs doing?” I asked, concerned that there might be something wrong. I leaned on the gate.
“Aw, we’re just after separating them from the ewes. We move the young ones here and the ewes to the high field above so they can’t hear each other. They miss their mothers, so they do,” Mary answered.
“But isn’t it a fine day to be standing in a field surrounded by lambs?” she went on. As always in Ireland, the talk turns to the weather.
“It is indeed,” I reply. “A lovely day for a long walk.”
“And aren’t you the grand man for the walking?” she compliments me. She sees me often along this stretch of lane.
The talk turns to the other topic nowadays.
“And how are you keeping down below there? With the Covid and all?” she asks, referring to the constant worry about the pandemic.
“We’re doing just fine, Mary, but we only go into town early on Thursday to do our shop at Garvey’s, Jerry’s, and O’Connor’s. How are you and your husband getting on?”
Her husband is “The Old Man Who Suffers from the Terrible Gout.”
“We’ve only been to town once or twice to go to Conor (the local GP) to get the gout medicine for the old man,” she tells me. “I still have Garvey’s deliver our shop to us on the Friday.”
After a few more minutes commiserating with each other about the complications to our lives caused by the virus, she asks me:
“And how is your care?”
Normally I am good with local colloquial phrases, but I was stumped by this one.
Mary recognized the quizzical look on my face. “Your care, your family back in the states,” she explained to me.
“Aah,” I said before telling her how our family back home was getting along and enquiring after her own family here in Ireland.
After a few more minutes of chat, circling back, as always, to the weather, I said goodbye and left Mary to her bleating lambs.
As I walked down the lane to the Old Ventry Road,with the mournful bleating fading away, the lovely phrase she used ran through my mind: “How is your care?”
Early on in the fight against Covid-19, a poem called “Take Care” by the President of Ireland, Michael D. Higgins,was in circulation. It offered comfort in trying times.
The last lines read:
Hold firm.
Take care.
Come home
together.
Images of our friends and family around the world flew through my mind. Ohio and Oregon. California and Pennsylvania. New Mexico, Michigan,and Connecticut. India, Singapore, and Ireland. Our care.
Take care, each and every one, I prayed as I walked along the lane. May we come home together.
Mullenaglemig Diary 
So lovely Jim and it brought a lump to my throat at the end.
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Thank you, Pauline
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How lovely as I drink my morning coffee. A lump in my throat as well
Take care
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Thank you, Pat. It was just a year ago that you and Ray were here. ❤️
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Wonderful memories that bring your posts to life
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Donna and I are having our tea on this cloudy warm September morning in Vermont. Thank you for your words and that end of the poem. Beautiful.
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Poetry is an essential part of life here.
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Thank you for this lovely story. I will surely and so will you……Take Care.
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I would have put “Love” if that had been an option. And love to you and Sara, Jim.
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Thank you, Jean. We think of you often.
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A beautiful story. Thank you. ☘️ Holding on in Maryland. 🍁🍂
Thanks, Debbie McIver Sent from my iPhone
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What a wonderful post!!!
You take care.
Miss you both big time.
Much love
Natalie
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Thank you , Natalie. In the before times, we planned to be in Santa Fe for the month of October and see you and all of our friends. Now we’re holding onto next year.
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What a heartfelt post, Jim….a wonderful way to start my Sunday here in Cali. All I can say is….you need to write more often! It always brings a smile to my face….although this one made me well up a bit! Big hugs to you and Sara.
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Thank you, Nancy. If we can get this tear behind us, we hope to be home next October.
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Oh, Jim. Another teary response to your beautiful writing. How fortunate you are to be enveloped in the Irish beauty and sensibility, especially during these trying times. We miss you and Sarah, but thanks so very much for staying connected with allof us.
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Thank you, Christina. In the before times, we had planned to be in Santa Fe next month. Now we’re praying for next year we miss you and Jorge and all of our friends there and think of you often.
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Hi Sara & Jim, what a heartfelt story. I almost cried. So sad to think we are still going thru this. The only way we get thru it, is to think of our care and to be with them. I hope you and Sara are doing well. We hope to see you soon. Take care, Marilyn & Greg
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Thank you, Marilyn. Everyone is so fragile now with all that is going on. I thought our neighbor Mary said it well.
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As always, I LOVE this post! You have a beautiful way of making us all feel connected. And that couldn’t be more important in these crazy times. Thank you!!!
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Thank you, Sally. We think of you both often- and your little grandson.
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