When the staff member at the post office said, ‘for security reasons I need to ask you what’s in the box’, I felt a little sheepish. When I saw the postage amount, I began to feel silly at the extravagance. As the parcel was added to the pile of outgoing post, I worried it was too leftfield. Nevertheless, off it went and in the days that followed I hoped it had arrived safely and brought the joy I imagined.
It was a hot summer’s day during the pandemic and we had driven to one of our favourite coastal spots nearby. I, being heavily pregnant, slumped myself on the warm sand and watched the children splash about in the rockpools looking for little creatures. I was feeling particularly grateful that we could easily get to the beach whilst simultaneously sorrowful for those who couldn’t.
A friend had moved to the midlands earlier in the year and in an effort to deliver some brightness to her I collected tiny shells and colourful little pebbles where I lay on the beach, I grabbed fistfuls of the sun-baked sand and packed it into a little jar, then I stepped barefooted to the shoreline and scooped up water from the gentle lapping waves of the incoming tide into an empty bottle.
When we got home I packaged the gatherings up carefully and put them into a box, whilst Dara looked at me questioningly (I can be blindly headstrong). I thought of my friend unpacking this box, inspecting the microscopic pieces of coral, the shine of the pearly shells and the unexpected splash of colour from seaglass and yellow flat periwinkle. Then maybe; whilst visualising herself being at the beach, breathing in the sea air, squinting into the sun, seeing the blue islands and headlands beyond; she would pour the cold water from the Atlantic over her toes and smile.
Whether she did this or not I didn’t pry. I wondered how I would’ve felt receiving such a strange parcel, would I see the heartfelt emotion or just random jars with briney offerings?! I had followed through with an act of thoughtfulness was what mattered to me. Sometimes I think of saying of doing something for someone but then the moment passes or life distracts. I had planned to bake some pastries for our neighbours after they renovated their house…three years has passed and might be a tad late for a New Home gift!
However a little comment or ‘I saw this and thought of you’ is something I really love, it brightens my day. It is worth so much. A surprise text or letter, a hug or unexpected gift; like the thousands of parcels of Tayto Cheese and Onion crisps making their way around the globe to migrant Irish! This morning my friend text me to say the storm had blown a tree over on our road and to take care. Things like my brother bringing us home lavender and herbs from Provence, customers dropping in articles cut out of magazines, Dara giving me a framed vintage map of the West of Ireland. Even people telling me they like reading this little blog is hugely thoughtful. I’m sentimental, I’ll remember.
Baking as thoughtfulness
Of course I’m inclined to say that baking is a thoughtful act but I do truly believe it. When I am testing new recipes and developing new bakes I am always thinking of my customer; thinking through the elements of taste and texture, of the story or inspiration and trying to use the best quality ingredients in order for them to feel appreciated. Baking is not selfish, it’s always about sharing, in my opinion. A batch of buns, a large cake, a recipe.
And yet I’ve no recipe for you this week, instead I recorded some snippets of the coast for you; for those who live far away and are homesick, for those who have never visited our beautiful coastline and for those who haven’t been able to get out and about as much as they’d like to, this is for you, it’s waiting for you when you’re ready.
I sure thoughtfulness is my love language. All the small things - my eldest son (mid teens) almost missed his bus in the autumn because he came running back home to tell me there were whooper swans flying over the house. Nothing could have meant more to me 🤍
Ciara, Thank you for your fantastic newsletter. I started reading it because of the name. My maiden name is Gorse. I have come to enjoy your writings so very much! Keep up the great work!