Introducing Annie Fitzpatrick

A woman of quiet conviction, writing from the far side of the river

Blackbird Cottage has always had a story to tell—its creaking floorboards, its smoke-blackened hearth, the pear tree that leans toward the bay as if listening for a voice. It’s a house that has held many lives before mine. And for the longest time, I’ve wondered about the first woman who made it a home.

In the earliest records I could find, the cottage appears in the 1870s. A man named Matthew Fitzpatrick is listed as its owner—later a shopkeeper, an orchardist, a father of nine. But the records don’t tell us about his wife. Her name was Annie.

I’ve imagined her in quiet moments—at the kitchen table with her sewing, walking the rivulet in a heavy wool coat, hanging linens on a line as the wind picks up from the bay. I began to write her letters, in the hope that through them, her story might begin to bloom.

These are imagined letters, yes—but they are grounded in the landscape, the history, and the slow rhythm of life on the far side of the river. They are written in a voice that belongs to Annie, but also to all the women who’ve ever tried to make something beautiful out of the ordinary.

Each letter will arrive like a chapter in a novel, with a title and a moment in time. They are not hurried and by no means historically or culturally accurate. They are meant to be read slowly, perhaps with tea, or by firelight, or in the quiet of early morning. They are for anyone who has ever longed for a quieter world.

Shortly, you’ll receive the first of the letters from Annie. I hope you’ll enjoy this series, and that you might begin to see Annie not as a character, but as someone you know.

Welcome to The Letters of Annie Fitzpatrick.