Another exquisite piece Claire. Your writing is poetry. I felt myself almost inhabit each of the houses you describe, and even felt my heart touch into the love and loss that they/you have held. I welcomed the emergence of my own grief as you describe a kind of family life that I have never experienced in this lifetime. Except the `love and loss' parts of course. That too was a gift. thank you. I also felt your home sounded like an 'Elder' home in all its rich 300 year history and I related this to the home I have discovered inside myself....including the crumbling parts! Thank you so much for this piece Claire and for gifting it to us all so generously. I feel changed by it. xxx
Thank you so much Donna, from the bottom of my heart. Your comment is a gift, and you've shared it too. I'm so grateful. Your image of the 'elder home' within ourselves is spot on and one I'll certainly be carrying with me. X
Hello Claire, I loved reading this so much. It made me feel nostalgic for a family life I never had…but can appreciate the exquisite beauty of it in the way you tell it.
Claire, you’ve shared such beautiful and tender memories here. Thank you for letting us glimpse a little of the life and love that have filled Carramore over the years.
It made me think of the old Celtic traditions around house spirits and the sense that a home can hold something of the people who have loved and lived within it. 💛✨
Thank you so much. I love that idea of the old Celtic traditions and house spirits. I really do believe that something of us remains in the places we have loved deeply, woven somehow into the walls and rooms and all the ordinary moments that happened there. Carramore & Village Farm certainly feels that way to me. X
Claire, “larfulness” gives language to what generations of ordinary family life leave behind when repetition becomes inheritance. The Magnums, muddy boots, greenhouse conversations, grandchildren measuring themselves against the wall, and that winter conversation with your dad in the potting shed show how a home acquires meaning through thousands of moments nobody knows to commemorate while they are happening. Carramore’s coming transition carries such weight precisely because those rooms have become fluent in the rhythms of your family. Grateful for the care with which you honor what the house has held while making room for your mum to begin teaching another place how home feels.
Hey Kevin, thank you. Your reflections always encourage me to look a little deeper. I think the ordinary moments become sacred without us ever noticing at the time, then memory gathers them together. X
“Grief rarely listens to reason” resonates deeply with me. Even though your family understands that your father isn't limited to Carramore, the house still feels infused with his presence. Letting go of it can feel like a second goodbye, even when logic tells us otherwise.
But your essay also offers comforting reassurance: your mother will always carry that special part of herself that helped give Carramore its soul. She holds onto the habits of love that created its unique spirit. Although the next house may start fresh without the same history, it will always be shaped by her loving presence.
Which simple tradition from Carramore do you believe will be the first to help your mother’s new house start earning its own larfulness?
Hey Jay. What a fab question. Knowing Mum, it won't take long. The front door will be permanently open, dinner invites will be sent out before the boxes are unpacked, and somehow guests will end up staying the night. That's her gift. She has a wonderful way of making people feel they belong, and I suspect that's how the new house will begin collecting its own stories. X
That sounds as though Carramore’s heart already knows how to travel. Before the pictures are hung or the boxes unpacked, your mum will have opened the door, fed someone, and found them a place to stay.
Perhaps that is the truest kind of larfulness—not something contained by walls, but the gift of making people feel they belong. The new house may begin without stories, but it certainly won’t remain that way for long. X
This was such a moving read, and so beautifully written. It's made me think about how we each belong to the history and story of the place/house where we live, and those where we have lived in the past - you describe this so well. I hadn't consciously thought this way before, and it spoke to me, so thank you. My childhood home was a ground-floor modern apartment in south London, and my sister and brother-in-law still live there. They have made it their own but it still resonates with family tales, and we talk of them whenever we're together. I think the house might be listening with pleasure.
Hey Amanda. What a beautiful thought, the house listening with pleasure. I love that. I think stories we continue to tell are part of what keeps a home alive, even as it changes and new memories are layered over the old ones. How lucky your childhood home is still within your family and still gathering stories. Thank you so much for sharing this with me. X
This was a wonderful read and transported me back to a home I lived in as a child. My parents moved a lot, so we never put down roots as such, but this house had an orchard. We had such wonderful times with friends and cousins in that garden. I haven't thought about it in a long time. Thank you very much for taking me back there through your writing- what a gift.
This means so much. One of the greatest gifts writing can offer is opening a door we didn't even realise was still there. I'm so glad it took you back to your orchard and those happy childhood days. X
This is so beautiful. As I am reading it, I feel I am stepping into a beautiful world. Your exquisite writing is such a wonderful tribute to this gorgeous place. Thank you so much for sharing. ❤️❤️🙏🙏
That means such a lot to me, Kelly. If my words can make someone feel as though they’ve stepped into another world for a little while, then they’ve done exactly what I hoped they would. X
Indeed! My wife and I bought her brother out a few years ago of the house that they grew up in. Her mother inherited it. It was the family farms, barn, where the cows were kept. Located near tiny the little village of Saint Roman en Jarez in French southern countryside, we are not exactly sure how old it is. Her parents converted it from being a barn to the house that she grew up in back in the 1970s. Our renovation gutted the entire inside. The only things which remained brought it back to what it was when it was a barn: Stone walls, which were hand placed, wooden floor with holes to pour the feed down to the cows below, the far side, extending into the front yard, dipping down toward the creek the near side into the inclining hill with a natural below ground rock~walled storage facility for food, which was used before refrigeration and electricity. Her uncle lives in the house directly to the left, which was the main family house and in between the two is the old well which we still use to draw water to water the garden. My wife imagined designed and worked with an architect/builder to completely upgrade the inside. My only contribution was to bring the Terrace which only came around halfway and extended all the way around so now we have a view of the mountains behind us and that allows us to create a sliding glass door into the open bright new kitchen space. We also put in central air conditioning which was quite a challenge because it’s not a common thing as you will know in Europe. But now her uncle has had one installed in his bedroom… we did not intend to become trendsetters and as a matter of fact her sister-in-law condescendingly commented about the heat pumps and the ceiling fan fans as being so typically ‘American’… but when the heat waves came She was envious. Living well is the best revenge!
What a wonderful story. I love that you brought an old family home back to life while honouring everything that made it special. The well, the stone walls, the old barn floor... it sounds as though the house has simply carried on telling its story, with your family now writing the next chapter. And I had to smile at the air conditioning! Sometimes living well really is the best response. ❤️ X
Thank you so much, Kat. That means a lot. I think we all leave a little of ourselves behind in the places we love, and carry a little of them with us when we leave. X
Another exquisite piece Claire. Your writing is poetry. I felt myself almost inhabit each of the houses you describe, and even felt my heart touch into the love and loss that they/you have held. I welcomed the emergence of my own grief as you describe a kind of family life that I have never experienced in this lifetime. Except the `love and loss' parts of course. That too was a gift. thank you. I also felt your home sounded like an 'Elder' home in all its rich 300 year history and I related this to the home I have discovered inside myself....including the crumbling parts! Thank you so much for this piece Claire and for gifting it to us all so generously. I feel changed by it. xxx
Thank you so much Donna, from the bottom of my heart. Your comment is a gift, and you've shared it too. I'm so grateful. Your image of the 'elder home' within ourselves is spot on and one I'll certainly be carrying with me. X
Hello Claire, I loved reading this so much. It made me feel nostalgic for a family life I never had…but can appreciate the exquisite beauty of it in the way you tell it.
It feels like this is the makings of a book. ❤️
That’s such a lovely thing to say. The thought of it becoming a book has just planted a rather dangerous little seed… X
I hope the seed flourishes. X
Claire, you’ve shared such beautiful and tender memories here. Thank you for letting us glimpse a little of the life and love that have filled Carramore over the years.
It made me think of the old Celtic traditions around house spirits and the sense that a home can hold something of the people who have loved and lived within it. 💛✨
Thank you so much. I love that idea of the old Celtic traditions and house spirits. I really do believe that something of us remains in the places we have loved deeply, woven somehow into the walls and rooms and all the ordinary moments that happened there. Carramore & Village Farm certainly feels that way to me. X
A beautiful read, taking us through your house and memories. Never easy moving, hoping your mum is coping with everything.
Thanks, Judith.. Moving is never just about bricks and mortar, there's so much of the heart involved too. I'm sure she'll settle in time. X
Claire, “larfulness” gives language to what generations of ordinary family life leave behind when repetition becomes inheritance. The Magnums, muddy boots, greenhouse conversations, grandchildren measuring themselves against the wall, and that winter conversation with your dad in the potting shed show how a home acquires meaning through thousands of moments nobody knows to commemorate while they are happening. Carramore’s coming transition carries such weight precisely because those rooms have become fluent in the rhythms of your family. Grateful for the care with which you honor what the house has held while making room for your mum to begin teaching another place how home feels.
Hey Kevin, thank you. Your reflections always encourage me to look a little deeper. I think the ordinary moments become sacred without us ever noticing at the time, then memory gathers them together. X
“Grief rarely listens to reason” resonates deeply with me. Even though your family understands that your father isn't limited to Carramore, the house still feels infused with his presence. Letting go of it can feel like a second goodbye, even when logic tells us otherwise.
But your essay also offers comforting reassurance: your mother will always carry that special part of herself that helped give Carramore its soul. She holds onto the habits of love that created its unique spirit. Although the next house may start fresh without the same history, it will always be shaped by her loving presence.
Which simple tradition from Carramore do you believe will be the first to help your mother’s new house start earning its own larfulness?
Hey Jay. What a fab question. Knowing Mum, it won't take long. The front door will be permanently open, dinner invites will be sent out before the boxes are unpacked, and somehow guests will end up staying the night. That's her gift. She has a wonderful way of making people feel they belong, and I suspect that's how the new house will begin collecting its own stories. X
That sounds as though Carramore’s heart already knows how to travel. Before the pictures are hung or the boxes unpacked, your mum will have opened the door, fed someone, and found them a place to stay.
Perhaps that is the truest kind of larfulness—not something contained by walls, but the gift of making people feel they belong. The new house may begin without stories, but it certainly won’t remain that way for long. X
This was such a moving read, and so beautifully written. It's made me think about how we each belong to the history and story of the place/house where we live, and those where we have lived in the past - you describe this so well. I hadn't consciously thought this way before, and it spoke to me, so thank you. My childhood home was a ground-floor modern apartment in south London, and my sister and brother-in-law still live there. They have made it their own but it still resonates with family tales, and we talk of them whenever we're together. I think the house might be listening with pleasure.
Hey Amanda. What a beautiful thought, the house listening with pleasure. I love that. I think stories we continue to tell are part of what keeps a home alive, even as it changes and new memories are layered over the old ones. How lucky your childhood home is still within your family and still gathering stories. Thank you so much for sharing this with me. X
This was a wonderful read and transported me back to a home I lived in as a child. My parents moved a lot, so we never put down roots as such, but this house had an orchard. We had such wonderful times with friends and cousins in that garden. I haven't thought about it in a long time. Thank you very much for taking me back there through your writing- what a gift.
This means so much. One of the greatest gifts writing can offer is opening a door we didn't even realise was still there. I'm so glad it took you back to your orchard and those happy childhood days. X
This is so beautiful. As I am reading it, I feel I am stepping into a beautiful world. Your exquisite writing is such a wonderful tribute to this gorgeous place. Thank you so much for sharing. ❤️❤️🙏🙏
That means such a lot to me, Kelly. If my words can make someone feel as though they’ve stepped into another world for a little while, then they’ve done exactly what I hoped they would. X
Exquisitely written - thank you for sharing ❤️🌿
Thank you for taking the time to read Kathryn. X
Simply beautiful 🧡
Thank you 🙏 X
Beautifully written thank you for sharing heartwarming words filled with love and larfulness, space and time.
Thank you. I’m so glad these words found you. X
Lovely sacred memories- thank you Claire. 💖
Thank you so much. I really do believe places gather the lives lived within them. I’m so glad those memories resonated with you. X
Indeed! My wife and I bought her brother out a few years ago of the house that they grew up in. Her mother inherited it. It was the family farms, barn, where the cows were kept. Located near tiny the little village of Saint Roman en Jarez in French southern countryside, we are not exactly sure how old it is. Her parents converted it from being a barn to the house that she grew up in back in the 1970s. Our renovation gutted the entire inside. The only things which remained brought it back to what it was when it was a barn: Stone walls, which were hand placed, wooden floor with holes to pour the feed down to the cows below, the far side, extending into the front yard, dipping down toward the creek the near side into the inclining hill with a natural below ground rock~walled storage facility for food, which was used before refrigeration and electricity. Her uncle lives in the house directly to the left, which was the main family house and in between the two is the old well which we still use to draw water to water the garden. My wife imagined designed and worked with an architect/builder to completely upgrade the inside. My only contribution was to bring the Terrace which only came around halfway and extended all the way around so now we have a view of the mountains behind us and that allows us to create a sliding glass door into the open bright new kitchen space. We also put in central air conditioning which was quite a challenge because it’s not a common thing as you will know in Europe. But now her uncle has had one installed in his bedroom… we did not intend to become trendsetters and as a matter of fact her sister-in-law condescendingly commented about the heat pumps and the ceiling fan fans as being so typically ‘American’… but when the heat waves came She was envious. Living well is the best revenge!
What a wonderful story. I love that you brought an old family home back to life while honouring everything that made it special. The well, the stone walls, the old barn floor... it sounds as though the house has simply carried on telling its story, with your family now writing the next chapter. And I had to smile at the air conditioning! Sometimes living well really is the best response. ❤️ X
Beautiful piece of writing about belonging to a place - about being part of its history and conversely its future.
Thank you so much, Kat. That means a lot. I think we all leave a little of ourselves behind in the places we love, and carry a little of them with us when we leave. X
Oh my gosh I absolutely love your writing! It’s so cozy and your house is gorgeous ❤️😭
Thank you so much. That means more than you know. Village Farm I’m sure has many more stories left to tell. Welcome, I’m so happy you’re here. X