The weather is ugly. The wind started last night. I don’t when the rain started, but it is loud and heavy. The dog door was blown open by the wind. The floor is soaked so I had to close the back door, but I don’t think the dogs will mind. They are not rain dogs. It will rain all day. The temperature at 55° is wasted. 

When I was a kid, I went to St. Patrick’s grammar school. I always had today, St. Patrick’s Day, off from school. My parents often hosted a St. Patrick’s Day party on the weekend closest to the big day. My mother decorated, moved the dining room table against the wall and made so much food the table groaned. The house was filled with relatives. I remember the kitchen crammed with people singing Irish songs. The back door was always opened to clear the smoke. The temporary bar was on the counter.  It was always a celebration of food, drink and family. 

My mother always made corned beef and cabbage for dinner on the big day. If it was a weekend, I’d visit. One year I brought my dog Shauna, my first boxer, to visit and meet my parents. My father loved her right away and spoiled her. She loved him right back. While he was filling his plate with corned beef and cabbage, he made Shauna a plate. She had everything, even a slice of buttered Irish bread. She cleared the plate so well it looked clean. My father even gave her ice cream for dessert.

I have a concert this morning. I’ll wear my Irish sweatshirt, my shamrock fascinator and my glittery shamrock earrings. Later, I’ll watch a film befitting the day. I’m thinking The Quiet Man. I haven’t made a big dinner, but I’m thinking a sandwich with all the fixings might be in order. Maybe, in memory of my dad I’ll share it with the dogs.

This entry was posted on March 17, 2025 at 10:06 am and is filed under Musings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. Both comments and pings are currently closed.