One month ago our house burned to the ground. It took our clothing, antiques, family heirlooms, musical instruments, pantry full of food, hand and power tools, artwork, books, textile collections, my grandmother's hand cards, drop spindle, loom, spinning wheel, pottery collections and thousands of carefully selected cds, cassettes, records, songbooks, and books.

Paintings, handwork, sculptures, pottery, journals, poems, and songs went up in the flames. Baby clothes passed down in the family, childrens' clothes, cradles, and dreams of adoption...burned. My only photographs of the child who became like my own child; gone.

Piano, melodeon, bagpipes, really fine chanter, three guitars including the Apollonio, an Apollonio laud belonging to a friend, two violins, bodhran, mando-uke, a harp gifted by another friend, the penny whistles including an O'Riordan, all of the source recordings from all over Scotland and Nova Scotia, New Hampshire, and Maine; gone. All of the songs and poems I made over the years waiting for final polish; gone.

All of our seed supplies for the upcoming year, our 50+ grafted infant fruit trees, financial records- gone. All of my growing notes on different crops over the years, all of the unusual seeds passed on to me by my father; gone.

Our written and photographic records intended to help us write of our lives on our farm, along with the 200 year old house that sheltered us for the last ten years; gone. Love letters my husband and I wrote each other during our long courtship and during 12 years of marriage, every piece of his poetry and songs; gone.

The cherry corner cupboard from my parents, the Cuban mahogany turned wood pieces and hammered copper bowls made by my father's father, the child's chair my mother's father made, all that my husband had from his family; gone.

We are grateful for many kindnesses both here and in Maine. God has lent us strength and graced us with such lovely friends and strangers offering practical help and laughter amidst tears. We have my grandmother's quilt that I grabbed in the dark to wrap around my Truelove on that cold night. We have one drawing found in the ashes the next day. We have a few pieces of jewelry scratched from the ruin by a firefighter. Most of all, we have one another and many family friends and friends reaching out to us.

I wanted to write of our loss in a way that might enable our friends here to understand some of our pain. We will heal. No one can or should try to fix it for us. Just walk alongside for a little way. Thank you.

With gratitude,

maeve