Unconventional

Happy Monday morning, everyone! Did you have a nice weekend? Mine was altogether too short. So many ideas, projects, friends to meet, treats to bake and basketball games to watch. Oh, and a trip to a convent in the country.

Didn’t see that one coming, did you?

I should preface this story by saying a huge, general thank you to my sister-in-law, Angie, for consistently stepping up as my partner in crime. Whenever I have an idea I’m certain my husband will roll his eyes at, I tell Angie. And you know what she always says? She says that is a great idea! and she means it. She never kills it with logistical questions about how and when and with what money like a certain other important person in my life. She just tells me my ideas are great, and I’m grateful for it every day.

{pretty glass jars with pretty nasturtiums}

That said, when I told Angie I was going to a convent to collect some vintage glass jars this weekend, the girl wanted in and an adventure was born.

Our office gets calls fairly frequently from people looking to offload canning jars they’re not using any more. We put an announcement on the organization’s Facebook page and the webpage. But when we got a call last week from a nun looking to give away a whole bunch of glass Kilner jars from the 1950’s, I couldn’t help but take them up on the offer.

On Saturday, Angie and I hopped in the car (or splashed to the car since it was pouring down buckets of rain) and headed off to Stamullen, to the Visitation Monastery. Sister Marie-Therese was only able to give me vague directions, seeing as she doesn’t drive and the Visitation Monastery is a closed order.

Are you humming Sound of Music songs yet? We were, I’ll admit it.

{the jars were used by the nuns for the last 50 years to can the fruit from their grounds}

So we headed off in the vague direction of the Visitation Monastery, which is so secret its address isn’t even on Google, and managed to find our way along the country roads to Stamullen. We crawled along the main drag in the tiny town (about five shops and a pub), looking for the small sign directing us to the monastery, which Sister Marie-Therese advised was very difficult to see.

It certainly wasn’t easy to spot, but we caught it on the second pass by and took the winding road even farther into the countryside. About a mile outside of the town, we found the monastery and Sister Marie Therese.  And we tried to act cool. But it was just so neat!

Through the pouring rain, we talked with Sister Marie Therese and tried to catch glimpses inside the closed monastery. They don’t allow anyone but the sisters who live there inside, but you could tell even from the doorway that the grounds inside must have been incredible. High stone walls kept us from getting a peek at them, but that just made it all the more mysterious.

Sister Marie Therese explained to us that their order was merging with another order a little ways away and that they were looking for someone to rent their huge building. There were only eight sisters left, she explained, so they couldn’t stay there any longer. It was all happening very quickly, she told us with a worried look on her face.

Then she told us about the pear, plum and apple trees and how they used to preserve all the fruit in all of the Kilner jars she was bestowing on me. She told me the ratio of sugar to water for plums, and how it was different for the pears. I soaked it all in, somehow feeling this was the end of an era for these eight women who had spent the bulk of their lives in this one building.

We made our way back to the little town and stopped for hot chocolate to debrief, Angie and I were buzzing with the feeling we were watching history take place in front of us in this small place in our foreign home.

Good thing I’ve got someone to share these wacky adventures with! I’m not sure anyone would believe me otherwise!