{"id":2554,"date":"2026-08-07T17:00:00","date_gmt":"2026-08-07T16:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/?p=2554"},"modified":"2026-08-06T09:08:03","modified_gmt":"2026-08-06T08:08:03","slug":"five-years-after-swapping-dundalk-for-a-village-in-the-marche-this-family-says-they-still-cannot-get-used-to-the-september-light","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/five-years-after-swapping-dundalk-for-a-village-in-the-marche-this-family-says-they-still-cannot-get-used-to-the-september-light\/","title":{"rendered":"Five years after swapping Dundalk for a village in the Marche this family says they still cannot get used to the September light"},"content":{"rendered":"

They arrived with boxes<\/strong> of books and a borrowed<\/strong> van, a long way from the rain-washed<\/strong> quays of the Irish Sea to a hilltop<\/strong> village in the Marche. Five years later, the rituals have settled\u2014espresso at the bar<\/strong>, laundry on a line<\/strong>, children running the piazza<\/strong>\u2014yet one thing keeps catching them off-guard<\/strong>. Every September, the light shifts and the ground seems to tilt<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s as if someone fitted the sky with a dimmer<\/strong>, then varnished it with honey<\/strong>,\u201d says Niamh, who teaches English<\/strong> online and has learned to say buongiorno with a whisper<\/strong>. \u201cI never knew light could feel so thick<\/strong>, so particular<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

When the angle starts to lean<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

By the second week of September<\/strong>, the sun drops at a slant<\/strong>, sneaking between terracotta roofs<\/strong> and casting shadows that feel architectural<\/strong>. Even the olive leaves seem sharper<\/strong>, their undersides flicking with mercury<\/strong>. In Dundalk, autumn came with drizzle<\/strong> and a sky like a blanket<\/strong>. Here, the afternoons are theatrical<\/strong>, staging a drama of gold and cool<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Tom, who now repairs bicycles<\/strong> in a garage that smells of oil<\/strong> and sage, says it messes with his clock<\/strong>. \u201cBack home, four o\u2019clock was already grey<\/strong>,\u201d he says. \u201cHere, four o\u2019clock is brighter<\/strong> and somehow older<\/strong>. It\u2019s light you can almost touch<\/strong>, but it\u2019s also saying hurry<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

The harvest tint<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

The neighbors call it luce di vendemmia<\/strong>, the harvest<\/strong> light. Grapes come in on trailers<\/strong>, bees loiter at the mouths of bottles<\/strong>, and everything\u2014walls, wrists, and notebooks<\/strong>\u2014carries a bloom<\/strong> of dust. In that glow, the village seems carved<\/strong>, as if the centuries have been newly polished<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

For the children, school begins with crisp<\/strong> new pencil cases and the white echo<\/strong> of chalk. \u201cIt\u2019s a light that makes shadows on the blackboard<\/strong>,\u201d says Aoife, nine, who has learned to roll her r\u2019s<\/strong> and to count the number of swallows<\/strong> over the balcony. \u201cBack in Ireland the sky was more soft<\/strong>, like a sheet<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

The pace of afternoons<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

By late afternoon the streets go quiet<\/strong>, not with the heavy sleep<\/strong> of August, but with a poise<\/strong> that suggests decision. Olive nets appear like folded water<\/strong>, and the barista pulls a last caff\u00e8<\/strong> before the dinner rush<\/strong>. The family walks out to the belvedere<\/strong>, where the Sibillini profile looks stitched<\/strong> into a pale linen<\/strong> horizon.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cYou start noticing timing<\/strong>,\u201d Tom says. \u201cWhen the church shadow<\/strong> kisses the well<\/strong>, that\u2019s when I lock the shop. When the pigeons turn to sparks<\/strong> and vanish, that\u2019s when the kids should be home<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Seeing in a new language<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

Light taught them a dialect<\/strong> they didn\u2019t know they were missing<\/strong>. There is a word for the bloom<\/strong> on grapes, for the pink that spills across marble<\/strong>, for the way laundry seems flat<\/strong> against the air. Niamh keeps a notebook<\/strong> of phrases she hears on the steps<\/strong> below their door.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought moving abroad would be all about paperwork<\/strong> and recipes<\/strong>,\u201d she laughs. \u201cBut it\u2019s been about angle<\/strong> and tone<\/strong>. The light makes us notice<\/strong>, and noticing makes us stay<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Daily choreography<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

They\u2019ve adjusted habits to meet the angle<\/strong> halfway. Windows are left ajar<\/strong> until the sun clears the alley<\/strong>; shutters close with a wooden sigh<\/strong> at noon. The kettle whistles at five<\/strong>, just as the terrace cools to almond<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n
  • Dinner moves from the kitchen<\/strong> to the balcony<\/strong> precisely when the church bell makes its fifth<\/strong> echo; homework shifts to the table<\/strong> nearest the window that is least stubborn<\/strong> with glare; the dog\u2019s walk starts when the pavement turns from white<\/strong> to wheat<\/strong> beneath their feet.<\/li>\n

    \n<\/ul>\n

    <\/p>\n

    What they carry, what they let go<\/h2>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Certain Irish habits<\/strong> cling: a mackintosh<\/strong> by the door, a superstition about wind<\/strong>, the urge to keep a lamp<\/strong> on even when the room is already golden<\/strong>. But other things have learned to loosen<\/strong>. Shoes are left on the stairs<\/strong>, lunch is eaten late with figs<\/strong>, and the radio announces weather<\/strong> that actually feels like news<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    \u201cWe used to plan our days around rain<\/strong>,\u201d says Niamh. \u201cNow we plan them around a beam<\/strong> that hits the sink<\/strong> at exactly the wrong time.\u201d<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Why this month won\u2019t settle<\/h2>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Maybe September resists because it sits between worlds<\/strong>: the salt<\/strong> of summer still on your skin, the first cool breath of firewood<\/strong> in the lanes. The family finds themselves caught<\/strong>, delaying coats, bargaining with twilight<\/strong>, arguing over whether the sandals can last one week<\/strong> more.<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    On some evenings the town seems backlit<\/strong>, like a stage set about to travel<\/strong>. The children chase their shadows<\/strong>, longer than their arms<\/strong>, and try to pinch the light as if it\u2019s a trick of glass<\/strong>. \u201cIt\u2019s gorgeous<\/strong> and a little sad<\/strong>,\u201d Tom admits. \u201cIt keeps telling you that time is a shape<\/strong>, not just a line<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Staying because it changes<\/h2>\n

    <\/p>\n

    They stay for the shifts<\/strong>, for the surprise of familiar stones<\/strong> becoming strange, for the way the church clock seems to tick in gold<\/strong>. They stay because learning to live with a particular light<\/strong> turns out to be a way of learning to live with time<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    \u201cEvery year I think I\u2019ll get used<\/strong> to it,\u201d Niamh says, looking toward the Adriatic<\/strong> where the sea has gone the color of steel<\/strong>. \u201cAnd every year, at four in the afternoon, I remember why we came<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2569,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2554","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-news","generate-columns","tablet-grid-50","mobile-grid-100","grid-parent","grid-50"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2554","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2554"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2554\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2568,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2554\/revisions\/2568"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2569"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2554"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2554"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2554"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}