By Carmel O’Connell

 

Did the image of a little robin perched on your window sill ever conjure up a series of nostalgic memories? As I gazed at it in awe, I remembered well the day my Dad announced he was going to “construct” a Summer House for my Mam.

As she used to spend a lot of time sitting in her flower garden, in oftentimes very inclement weather, he realised, that like the woman in, An Old Woman of the Roads, by Padraic Colum, she also needed to sit in a little house of her own “out of the wind’s and the rain’s way”.
Of course, Mam was absolutely thrilled with Dad’s idea. I was only a little girl at the time and I must admit I didn’t really understand what the word, “construct” actually meant. But Mam’s joy was so infectious that I was ecstatic too.

However, as the days passed by it became clear to me what “Construct” meant. Money wasn’t very plentiful back then so Dad had to use every means at his disposal to fulfil his promise.

First of all, he made sheets of material out of old canvas meal bags. He then sewed them together to make the sides, back and roof of the Summer House.

After that he got iron bars in an outside shed, which he criss-crossed in such a way that they formed a frame over which he spread securely (as he thought) the canvas sheets.
He erected this little house in the south-west corner of the flower garden under the shade of the Macrocarpa tree, which gave it a certain degree of protection from the elements in wintertime.
We enjoyed brilliant times in that little make-shift house. Mam, who was an accomplished baker often entertained many of our neighbours with her bakewell tarts and her queen cakes, while relaxing in our little outdoor haven.

Alas, as time passed by, I’m afraid the prevailing wind eventually had its way. Like the Big Bad Wolf in The Three Little Pigs, it huffed and it puffed until it blew the house down.
When we woke the next morning to the sight of our cherished little house sprawled across the lawn, we were heartbroken. But you guessed it, Dad came to the rescue again.

Now this time he decided to “BUILD” a little Summer House.

This was the period, just after Vatican 11, when many churches were removing the railings and pillars from their altar rails to enable better actuosa participation in the liturgy by the laity. So, my ingenious Dad acquired two little Gothic wooden windows, railings and pillars.
These acquisitions created a sense of grandeur and indeed spirituality in Mam’s humble abode. Mam then painted all the wood green to match the green grass. Then Dad built the back and two end walls into which he inserted the two Gothic windows.

At the front he erected a railing and a pillar at each side of the little entrance. It was an absolute work of art. He then used a corrugated sheet of iron, which he curved over the top, to form the roof. This was also painted green and the walls were painted white. (We are from Limerick after all!!!)
Dad then found the base of an old bed in an outside shed, which he transformed into a very comfortable settee. Kudos to Dad!

Mam then adorned her little house with numerous ornaments. Her little grandson was so fascinated with them that one day he decided to count them. “Well,” asked Granny, “how many are there?” To which he replied, with a smirk, “There are twelve ornaments, Granny, not counting yourself.” Granny had a great laugh at his impishness.

As Mam advanced in years, she loved to spend more and more time in her little Summer House. She often took her dinner out there to eat, as I thought. Until one day a friend told me, that behind my back, she was feeding a large portion of it to the little robins and tits that came by. It was, therefore, no wonder that Mam was getting thinner while the birds were getting fatter. So, for the sake of Mam’s declining health, this of course had to be curtailed.

Alas, my Mam and Dad are now long gone but Mam’s Summer House is still standing.

I must say that I find it a great consolation now to sit there surrounded by their spirit and all the cherished memories of bygone days. Days when the simple things in life were all-consuming.

Of course, past times remain in the past but in my memory, I can relive those memorable times, albeit with a certain degree of pathos now.
But then the words of the American author, Dr. Seuss, come to mind. “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.”

So, I sit back and smile to myself, often accompanied by a little robin that perches on the wooden railing.

I then feel so comforted and protected in Mam’s Summer House. n

Continue reading in this week’s Ireland’s Own