Exactly two years ago, almost to the minute, Farmer Gary and I were in the process of clearing out Mom and Dad’s house in Madison, Connecticut. It’s a long story, but suffice it to say the challenge of dividing up belongings among the siblings, the grandchildren, and friends was just the beginning. Some items were donated, others given to friends of friends.

But the house still wasn’t empty. And we were running out of time.

My cousin Suzanne lives not too far away, and shares our love of heritage. Heritage furniture, in this case. Furniture our grandfather unholstered to match: a bench, a hard-backed chair, and a loveseat – just in time for Mom and Dad’s wedding in 1952.

Here’s the loveseat in 1957, at home in Holley, New York:

And here’s the loveseat now, in Suzie’s Connecticut kitchen:

When she stopped by to pick up the furniture, I all but ambushed her:

Would you like some glassware, serving trays, houseplants?

Suzie picked out a prickly succulent with a smile.

My red-haired cousin is also in mourning for her dad, my Uncle Bill O’Brien, who passed away in December of 2020. Sue and I had a long talk, wiped the tears from our eyes, and carefully packed the heritage furniture away in her car.

And that – as far as we knew – was that.

When sitting down to write today, I checked to see if Mom had ever written a poem about a cactus.

Yes, of course she did:

The Cactus Owl

The cactus owl is exceedingly stunning
but damn he’s dangerous and cunning
he perches on the coffee pot
and relishes it being hot
he sleeps all morning in the sink
where I can’t even get a drink
at night he flies into the wood
and terrifies that neighborhood
he catches mice but much prefers
an evil smelling broth he stirs
I wouldn’t miss him if he went
but after one week I’d relent
when he tapped at the kitchen door
all armored for a bout once more

~ joan vayo August 5, 2006

Meanwhile, Suzanne took good care of her little cactus from Mom & Dad’s house.

Yesterday, she texted me this picture.

It seems the cactus suddenly took in a roommate:

Faith and begorrah – what’s that I see?

Three leaves in one – Saint Patrick‘s explanation of the Holy Trinity – beautiful shamrocks growing in amongst that prickly cactus’ domain.

Truth be told, my cousin and I are quite level-headed. We may be of Irish descent, but don’t take up with too much blarney.

But we both clearly see that lovely shamrock sprig, which just sprouted – all on its own – this Father’s Day week, as a sign that our Irish dads are doing just fine and are thinking of us. too.

But wait a minute – Bill O’Brien is certainly through-and-through Irish, but what about my dad? Although he provided more French than Irish blood to his brood, it appears that (according to a newly discovered fifth cousin) the French ancestors were actually relocated Irish royalty!

Time will tell if that tale turns out to be true once we dig in and explore that branch of the family tree. The branch that just may have started out as a sweet and delicate sprig of shamrock.

“The Cactus Owl” © 2006  Joan Vayo. All rights reserved.

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