{"id":3689,"date":"2026-10-21T08:07:00","date_gmt":"2026-10-21T07:07:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/?p=3689"},"modified":"2026-10-20T05:01:02","modified_gmt":"2026-10-20T04:01:02","slug":"a-dunboyne-pair-sold-the-apartment-and-live-in-two-shepherds-huts-joined-by-a-deck-in-the-hills-above-inistioge","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/a-dunboyne-pair-sold-the-apartment-and-live-in-two-shepherds-huts-joined-by-a-deck-in-the-hills-above-inistioge\/","title":{"rendered":"A Dunboyne pair sold the apartment and live in two shepherd\u2019s huts joined by a deck in the hills above Inistioge"},"content":{"rendered":"

Mist gathers over the Nore<\/strong>, and a kettle<\/strong> chatters on a tiny enamel hob. Two timber huts sit on wheels<\/strong>, their corrugated roofs beading with dew<\/strong>. Between them, a deck<\/strong> catches the first pale sun<\/strong>, a threshold that feels both temporary<\/strong> and deeply rooted<\/strong>. From here, the hills roll toward Inistioge<\/strong>, and the old pace of life slows to a heartbeat<\/strong> you can count by birdsong and the crackle of kindling<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

From apartment keys to timber wheels<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

They were a Dunboyne<\/strong> couple who realised their apartment<\/strong> had become a neatly framed storage<\/strong> unit. \u201cWe had a lovely view<\/strong>, but we stared at screens<\/strong>,\u201d says Ciara, tipping tea into a tin<\/strong> mug. \u201cOne day we wrote a list<\/strong> of what we actually used<\/strong>\u2014and most of it wasn\u2019t in the flat<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Selling up felt both reckless<\/strong> and refreshingly clear<\/strong>. Padraig calls it \u201ca surrender<\/strong> to scale.\u201d Less square<\/strong> footage, more open sky<\/strong>. They drove south until the roads<\/strong> narrowed, and a hillside above Woodstock<\/strong> whispered, stay awhile<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

The double-hut layout<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

Two shepherd\u2019s huts, each handmade<\/strong>, sit six steps apart<\/strong> and are joined by a deck<\/strong> that acts like a spine<\/strong>. One hut is for sleeping<\/strong> and reading, a cocoon of wool<\/strong> throws, a window like a porthole<\/strong> cut to the north<\/strong>. The other is for cooking<\/strong> and lingering, with a compact stove<\/strong>, a fold-down table<\/strong>, and clever shelves<\/strong> that pretend to be walls<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\u201cWe joke that the deck<\/strong> is the living room<\/strong>,\u201d says Padraig<\/strong>. \u201cIn summer it\u2019s a dining hall<\/strong>; in winter it\u2019s a fast dash<\/strong> with a plate of stew<\/strong>.\u201d The connection is tangible<\/strong>\u2014weather threads everything together<\/strong>, and each step makes the day feel chosen<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Money, maths, and muddy boots<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

The sale covered their debts<\/strong>, and the huts, built by a Kilkenny<\/strong> craftsperson, came in under a year<\/strong>\u2019s rent of their old place<\/strong>. \u201cWe did the maths<\/strong> on napkins,\u201d Ciara laughs<\/strong>. \u201cThen we did it again<\/strong>\u2014and left bigger margins<\/strong> for mud and mistakes<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Costs hid in the ground<\/strong>: pathways, a gravel pad<\/strong>, drainage that respected rain<\/strong> and roots. Boots became their best investment<\/strong>. \u201cYou learn what lasts<\/strong>,\u201d says Padraig<\/strong>. \u201cIt\u2019s rarely the thing that shines<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Off-grid without the off-putting<\/h2>\n

<\/p>\n

The setup is quiet, smart, and stubborn<\/strong> about waste. Power breathes from solar<\/strong>, heat from a small but hungry<\/strong> stove, and water from a butt<\/strong> that drinks the rain<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n
  • A compact solar array<\/strong> feeds batteries tucked under a bench<\/strong><\/li>\n

    <\/p>\n

  • A gravity-fed tank<\/strong> and charcoal filter<\/strong> keep taps gentle but clean<\/strong><\/li>\n

    <\/p>\n

  • A well-insulated stove<\/strong> sips logs from a local coop<\/strong><\/li>\n

    <\/p>\n

  • A separating toilet<\/strong> keeps maintenance simple<\/strong> and the soil happy<\/strong><\/li>\n

    \n<\/ul>\n

    <\/p>\n

    \u201cIt isn\u2019t a sacrifice<\/strong>,\u201d says Ciara<\/strong>. \u201cIt\u2019s a different rhythm<\/strong>. Things take a little longer<\/strong>, and somehow feel more yours<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Weather, neighbours, and the long quiet<\/h2>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Storms turn the deck into a drum<\/strong>, and the huts into a choir<\/strong> that creaks in harmony<\/strong>. On blue days, swallows braid the air<\/strong>, and time goes slow as sap<\/strong>. The nearest neighbour<\/strong> is a hedgerow away, quick with a spare spade<\/strong> and a gossip about the road<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Silence here isn\u2019t empty<\/strong>. It\u2019s a textured thing<\/strong> with sheep-bell echoes<\/strong> and the river\u2019s low murmur<\/strong>. \u201cThe first week, I kept checking my phone<\/strong>,\u201d says Padraig<\/strong>. \u201cBy the third, I kept checking the sky<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Routines on the ridge<\/h2>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Mornings start with boots<\/strong>, not emails<\/strong>. A walk to the gate<\/strong>, a scan for fox prints<\/strong>, a handful of feed for the neighbour\u2019s hens<\/strong>. Breakfast is slow: oats, honey<\/strong>, and a season of soft fruit<\/strong>. Work happens at a small desk<\/strong>, where signal finds them like a stray<\/strong> cat and stays just long<\/strong> enough.<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Evenings belong to the stove<\/strong> and the shared deck<\/strong>, where conversation moves from practical plans<\/strong> to unsafe dreams<\/strong>. \u201cWe schedule a weekly worry<\/strong> hour,\u201d Ciara grins<\/strong>. \u201cWe sit, we fret, we list solutions<\/strong>, and then we get back to living<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    What they kept\u2014and what they let go<\/h2>\n

    <\/p>\n

    They kept the books<\/strong>, the battered kettle<\/strong>, the quilt Ciara\u2019s mother<\/strong> stitched across three winters<\/strong>. They let go of the duplicate<\/strong> plates, the \u2018just in case<\/strong>\u2019 gadgets, the wardrobe of maybes<\/strong>. \u201cEverything we own<\/strong> must either earn its keep<\/strong> or make us smile<\/strong>,\u201d says Padraig<\/strong>. \u201cPreferably both<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    With less to store, they store less anxiety<\/strong>. Drawers open to a clear idea<\/strong> of who they are<\/strong> today, not who they once were<\/strong> or might be someday<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    Looking ahead<\/h2>\n

    <\/p>\n

    They talk about a tiny sauna<\/strong>, half-buried in hazel<\/strong>, and a shed that\u2019s more studio<\/strong> than storage. A line of espalier apples<\/strong> along the windward edge<\/strong>. More wildflowers, fewer straight lines<\/strong>. \u201cWe don\u2019t need a bigger<\/strong> life,\u201d says Ciara<\/strong>. \u201cJust a deeper one<\/strong>.\u201d<\/p>\n

    <\/p>\n

    As dusk drops, the deck returns to stage<\/strong>, and the huts to warm wings<\/strong>. The kettle sings its small, certain<\/strong> song. In this place, the future feels handmade<\/strong>, stitched from weather and choice<\/strong>, and anchored to a hillside that is patient, quiet<\/strong>, and entirely enough<\/strong>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3827,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3689","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\/3689","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=3689"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3689\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3826,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3689\/revisions\/3826"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3827"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3689"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3689"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.farmersforum.ie\/trends\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3689"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}