When Brian and I retired in 2018, we moved to a smallholding in Connemara, a decision that felt like the start of a dream. Connemara’s rugged landscape—with its hills, stone walls, and ever-changing skies—provided the perfect setting for a new chapter in our lives. For me, it was an opportunity to deepen my connection with Ireland’s native flora. For Brian, it was a chance to slow down and try something new. Well, for Brian it was new. For me, i couldn’t wait to see what plants, flowers and vegetables that i could nurture on our 1 acre, yes, 1 acre vegetablt plot that nearly broke both of our backs building…
Running a smallholding wasn’t easy. We raised chickens, pigs, and lambs, each bringing its own set of challenges and rewards. The vegetable garden (more like an allotment tbh) became another focus, but my true passion was growing native Irish plants. I spent hours learning about plants that thrived in the unique conditions of Connemara, from hardy foxgloves to delicate heather. It was a different skillset to learn and i spent hours poring over my Mum’s old books and various lovely websites from renowned gardeners i really admire.
Brian found his passion in golf, joining the local club and embracing the social life that came with it. He wasn’t particularly good at it, but he enjoyed the camaraderie and the friendly competitiveness of the club. It became a part of our routine: Brian at the course, me in the garden.
Living in Connemara also meant becoming part of a tight-knit community. The local pub was a hub of activity, where people shared stories, advice (plenty of it) and plenty of laughs. We both grew to appreciate the slower pace of life and the close connections with albeit distant neighbours.
Reflecting on those years now, I realise how much that time shaped me. It deepened my appreciation for Ireland for Connemara. The landscape. The craic. The friendliness. The trips we managed and the friends we made. It was a golden time in our lives. Sadly missed!