I find this picture so amusing—the whole place is one giant haystack (reed-stack):
It looks quite pretty when the sun hits it:
This detail was a nice surprise—a cross hatch pattern in the thatch above the entryway:
Ladders, ladders, everywhere!
Here are a few more photos of the progress on our thatched roof:
As you can see, the roof is coming along nicely:
That antiquated television antenna will soon be a distant memory:
Good St. Patrick, normally enshrined out front, waits on the porch for the transformation:
Thatch is incredibly thick and known as a good insulator:
Many more golden rolls await:
This shot was taken first thing this morning, almost before the sun arose. The whole front side of the roof has been added since:
Because thatching is so unusual in this country, I thought it might be fun to offer a series of posts showing the work in progress on our little cottage. For as long as I can remember, I have been in love with thatched cottages, so what you are seeing is the fruition of a lifelong dream come true. Our home has long been dedicated to Our Lady under the title "Our Lady of Knock" (in honor of her appearance in County Mayo, Ireland many years ago) and to St. Patrick, the great saint who brought the Faith to our ancestors.
A start
Scaffolds are erected, and the rain gutters are torn off. Rain runs off thatched roofs so there is no need for gutters. This is a good thing too—our gutters were a mess.
Where do you find thatchers in this country?
Fortunately, we are a nation of immigrants. We managed to find a man born and raised in the north of England and trained as a master thatcher.
A day or two into the project, the thatch arrived.
Tons and tons of it! It looked like enough to thatch an entire village, not just one small cottage, but thatch is laid on a foot deep, so every last blade is needed.
These golden wheels look like hay, but they are actually water reed, something we have in plenty here on Long Island. Where did we get the reed, you ask? See if you can choose correctly:
a. Cold Spring Harbor, New York
b. Connemara, County Galway, Ireland
c. England's Isle of Wight
d. Aberdeen, Scotland
The answer is—"none of the above."
The reed comes from China! And, having waited eight weeks for it, you might say it came on the proverbial slow boat from China. (This joke was stolen from the thatcher—my guess is that he uses it frequently!)
At the moment, the first side of the roof is nearing completion, so I will be posting more pictures soon. It is looking good!
Dear Friends,
Cottage Blessings [my main blog] will be down for just a day or two. So sorry about the temporary password protection!
Thanks,
Alice
An authentic four leaf clover--found growing in our lawn by Margaret.
Little hardy flowers
Like to children poor,
Playing in their sturdy health,
By their mother's door:
Purple with the north wind,
Yet alert and bold;
Fearing not and caring not,
Though they be a-cold.
--from Buttercups and Daisies by Mary Howitt
A few days ago, Margaret spent a happy hour in the yard filling a tea tin with blossoms. Here are the lovely results.
And here is Marie's doll's bowl of flowers, which was much appreciated by Raggedy Ann.
This pleasant activity reminded me of Autumn Stew (in a coffee can), 2006, and our traditional Spring Soup.
Golden Gate Park, as we found out a few days ago, is a place of beautiful flowers,
shimmering waterfalls,
and this: 
Isn't he adorable?
We watched our gopher creep slowly out of his hole and pop right back in as soon as he caught sight of us. He did this about twelve more times, and oddly enough, he seemed to be taking dirt in with him. Slowly, he turned his hole into this:
In a matter of seconds, he was gone, and left only a mound of upturned earth in his place. Oh, if only the Great Pate had done the same--I honestly would have prefered to eat my lunch by a pile of dirt. Oh well.
--Theresa (11)
has Hibiscus and Hummingbirds, a fountain and a family of Robins! It is a work of art and a lesson in beauty for a small space. I hope to explore it more on these pages, but for now, here is a picture of Eileen enjoying her new surroundings.
Our rhododendrons are a riot of color this time of year, with purplish pink clusters stretching onward and upward in practically every corner of the garden.
Looking out our front window and finding all this fleeting beauty, it seemed the perfect day to celebrate. Marie packed a basket, and I cut flowers for an impromptu "Rhododendron Tea"--taken picnic style--on the lawn.
I was so happy with our bouquet of peonies, roses, irises, azaleas and purple bells, all at their peak, the perfect supporting cast for sweeping drifts of rhododendrons. As you can see, Maureen appreciated them as well!
But why no rhododendrons in the "Rhododendron Tea" centerpiece, you ask? This article will explain:
Behold the lovely rhododendron--and beware its maddening toxins.
It's nice to know we are completely surrounded by mountains of deadly toxins potent enough to take down whole armies! If any of you gentle readers ever need a boatload of arrow poison, you be sure to check with me first, ya hear? And even if you do not have time to read the article, please at least scroll down to the chilling final sentence.
You might say it is a warning written especially for me.
