by Krista | Jun 14, 2017 | Winter
Our little house is quiet and still tonight after days of rain and wind. Bear and I had a big day working with our animals, weeding the carrot patch, and tackling a pile of work projects, and it was lovely to finish everything tonight and have corn chowder and grilled cheese sandwiches and just rest a while.
We’re still unpacking from a wonderful medieval event over the weekend. Wood smoke has permeated all my clothing, and it makes me smile to catch whiffs of it as I sort through boxes and baskets of cloaks, medieval garb, and linens.
It’s always so good to get away to these events, to get our medieval tents set up, make our beds with linen sheets and wool blankets, and light a fire in the campfire Bear modeled after one in the Bayeux Tapestry.
The fire is the heart of our medieval life. It’s where we gather before the sun is up to heat water for coffee, waiting to wrap cold fingers around a steaming hot brew.
It’s where we stand at every meal to fry up sausages and potatoes, flip pancakes, or simmer big pots of homemade soup, curry, or stew.
It’s where I boil more water to brew my medieval medicines and heat up whole milk to show people how to make cheese.
And it’s where we linger at night, huddled close in our woolen cloaks, clutching drinking horns or cups filled with mead, wine, beer, or homemade liqueurs, talking for hours with dear friends.
It’s those connections I treasure most, listening to outrageous stories, sharing heartaches and happinesses, looking around at beloved faces glowing in the firelight. Sometimes I stand back in the darkness and just watch, smiling at the cozy warmth of the scene, fixing it in my mind for those days that need a bit of warmth and light in them. I feel so lucky to be part of this crazy tribe, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. xo
by Krista | Jun 2, 2017 | Winter
Winter arrived in a flurry of wind with a dusting of frost, turning lush, green eggplants into crunchy, brown bushes overnight.
Other tender plants, nasturtiums and horseradish, didn’t fare too well either, their leaves looking freezer burned. But so many other plants are flourishing, and it seems the frost gave them an extra kick. Red cabbage and kohlrabi, rainbow chard and mustard greens, leeks and turnips, they all look healthy and vibrant.
Some plants defied nature and instead of looking shriveled and puny like their other warm weather friends, they look great. The elderflower hedge continues to produce flowers, asparagus keeps popping up despite numerous cut backs and a heavy layer of compost, and capsicum and tomatoes keep flowering and fruiting. I don’t mind, not one bit. They’re a lovely addition to our winter menu.
This week, after letting the goats glean in the hay barn, I shoveled out most of the leftovers, filling wheelbarrows with mounds of old lucerne, sorghum, and goat droppings. Then I spread the mixture in thick layers over pathways to keep the weeds down, and in thinner layers as mulch around my winter veggies. It’s so lovely looking out over golden paths and garden beds shimmering in the late afternoon sun.
I’ve also been working in the orchards, harvesting the few precious citrus fruits that miraculously survived two hail storms – Tahitian limes, grapefruits, lemons, and lemonades – and getting ready to prune and transplant now that cold weather is finally here.
Since our orchards are mostly comprised of mystery trees and seconds that nobody wanted, it’s been fun to see what survived and what gets chopped up to be used for smoking hams and sausages later this winter.
The nut trees did not fare well in this years’ horrendous heat, so I’ll be replacing them with hardy plums, apples, and pears that seem to totter along no matter what the weather does. The figs, pomegranates, quince, and olives did splendidly, and they’ll be getting a good layer of compost and mulch for the winter. The apricots and peaches came through as well, and they’ll just need a good pruning, along with the apples, pears, and plums, to make a good start in the spring.
The summer and autumn herbs I harvested and hung to dry are now ready. I’ve been stripping the leaves into fragrant piles and storing them in glass jars where they’ll be ready to be used in herbal teas and medicines this winter. They look so beautiful to me.
I started a new job this week and am really enjoying it. My colleagues are good people, comfy to be around and savvy and professional in business. I know I’m going to learn a lot.
I’ve also been expanding my wood-burning, designing new cutting boards and cheese boards, cutting them out, sanding and shaping, getting them ready to be burned. I love working with wood.
Although I’ve been concentrating on prepping my gardens for winter, I’ve still been harvesting, collecting snow peas and sugar snap peas, turnips and eggplants, chilies and rainbow chard. One day I hope to get to the place where all our vegetables and fruit come from our gardens and orchards, but for now I’m happy to have these delicious and healthy things ready for picking.
Soon it will be time to taste-test the apple and banana wines I made last year. They should nearly be ready for bottling and drinking on cold winter evenings. I still have a few bottles of mulberry liqueur and strawberry liqueur, but I’m saving those for later winter when we need reminders that spring is coming.
I feel ready for winter this year, needing that time of hibernation and reflection in my life as I decide what to hang on to and what to let go of. I’m looking forward to cold mornings huddled in bed with hot chocolate and my journal, taking the time to process what is happening around me, and what my role in it is. I’ve got stacks of books piled by the bed, books of thoughts to think, places to see, things to make, and I’m enjoying these shorter days and longer evenings when I actually have time to read them.
What’s your favorite part of the season you’re in? xo
by Krista | May 23, 2017 | Autumn
It’s a quiet and sunshiny morning on our farm. Our resident tawny frogmouths have gone back to bed after hunting through the night, perched just outside the hollow where their clutch of eggs is hiding. They blend in so perfectly with the branches of the huge gum tree, that it’s a game for Bear and me to find them every day.
I’ve learned that life on a farm is a mix of inspiring beauty, simple pleasures, and gutting loss. Newborns and fresh produce and breathtaking sunsets go arm in arm with devastating hail storms, flooding, and death. This week a fox, or two, dug a hole under the chicken yard fence and went on a rampage, killing everything in sight. Only one turkey and four chickens survived. We were so sad, yet also thankful for the plucky survivors, including our favourite hen who hid for two days before showing up at the gate ready for some lunch. We were so happy to see her alive and well.
We mourned the loss, then took a deep breath and moved on, making the most of a bad situation. We’ve been wanting to shift the birds into new pens so we could plant the old ones with all sorts of greens they love to eat, then cover with specially made elevated grates Bear designed which will allow the birds to have access to fresh grasses and plants without being able to scratch out the roots. Now we don’t need to shift the birds, and can plant nearly all the pens right away. They will be lush and green when it’s time to rebuild our flock, providing them with a constant source of nutritious foraging.
We also get to plan our new flock, choosing the varieties we want most, and bringing them home as we find them. I’m so excited about that. I love going to farms and acreages, choosing the birds to join our little family.
Amidst the loss there is much good. I took the last week to spend more time looking after us. Making sure we’re getting enough rest and relaxation, ensuring “we” don’t get lost amidst projects and tasks. It’s been lovely. We’ve been watching French cooking dvds while we eat breakfast, getting thoroughly inspired with delectable ways to use the foods we grow and raise. We’ve turned errands into dates, making an animal feed run an excuse for lunch at a bakery and a gorgeous drive in the country. We’ve taken naps and sat around the campfire with dear friends, getting our bodies and hearts revived and restored.
Personally it’s been good too. Getting in bed early each night so I can read a bit before sleep has done wonders for cutting down on nightmares. Choosing light-hearted fare – Amelia Peabody, Phryne Fisher, Enid Blyton – gives my brain happy things to focus on and ensures a much better sleep. There’s something about feisty heroines and adventurous children that put my heart and mind in a good place.
My gardens continue to bring me much joy. This incredibly warm Autumn has plants and fruit trees all mixed up. I’ve been harvesting peas for weeks and our apple trees are flowering. Tomato plants are popping up everywhere and my elderflower hedge is getting blossoms again. Winter is only a week away, but you’d never know it with all the Spring growth everywhere.
Yesterday I spent an entire afternoon outside. Pure bliss. I dug new garden beds and transplanted rainbow chard and Red Russian kale, and planted caraway and meadowsweet. The radishes, coriander, red onion, purple carrots, and leeks I planted earlier are all sprouting beautifully. Striped eggplants, capsicums, and chilies continue to produce, and I’ve been harvesting purple-topped turnips, sugar snap peas, and snow peas nearly every day. Beetroots and red carrots are nearly ready to harvest, and romaine, mustard greens, and silverbeet are getting bigger and bigger.
My herbs are thriving after the good rain we had last week. I’ve started making borage tea and will be adding it to our apple wine to see if it really does give courage like medieval people believed. I made a huge vat of comfrey tea yesterday, and will let it ferment for the next while until it’s ready to pour over my gardens and give everything a good feed. I’ve been shoveling manure and hauling straw for mulch, lugging bags of feed and picking up trash a naughty dog scattered hither and yon. It feels so good to be outside, sun on my shoulders, wind in my hair, geese, dogs, and goats coming to see what I’m up to.
Today is a writing day and I’m looking forward to it. I’m tucked up in bed with a view of trees and blue sky, ready to spin sentences and string together paragraphs, edit photos and submit articles. It’s going to be good.
How are you taking care of yourself this week? xo
by Krista | May 12, 2017 | Autumn
It’s dark and quiet, only one lamp shining so I don’t wake Bear who is slumbering beside me. Work is done and I’m winding down with a cup of tea and a Phryne Fisher novel.
We’ve had a lot going on this week, and it’s lovely to just sit and look back and be thankful for all that’s transpired.
Our goat herd is smaller now, and although it was hard for me to say good-bye to our big, gentle billy and some of our girls, I’m at peace because they went to a good home with good people where they’ll be safe, loved, and well cared for.
We moved our geese into the apple orchard where they can eat down the weeds that have been flourishing since the big rains. When they’ve cleaned it up, we’ll shift them to the big orchard where they can continue to eat and fertilize our grape vines and citrus, plum, and peach trees while they’re at it.
I dug and watered new garden beds, and will plant them with meadowsweet, caraway, angelica, and marshmallow soon. I used up my latest harvest of chili peppers and eggplants by making a range of hot sauces. Some made my eyes water and nose run, while others were mild but flavorful. I also harvested half of my horseradish, and made a creamy horseradish sauce to go with our slow-cooked beef tonight. So fresh and zingy, I loved it.
My favorite project this week was picking olives with Bear.
It was beautifully dark and cloudy, just the sort of weather I love for working outside. The chilly winds sent the olive branches dancing, and I was glad for a snug sweater to keep me warm while I worked.
We picked and picked, gliding our hands down the slender branches, hearing the satisfying plop of ripe olives into the containers strung around our necks.
Sometimes we worked alone, picking our way carefully through brambles, taking care to avoid the occasional cluster of paper wasps. Other times we were side by side, visiting amiably, pulling down branches so we could harvest the dense clusters of olives that always seem to be just out of reach.
Picking olives is meditative work, gentle, steady, and quiet. After a couple of hours we were tired but peaceful, so excited about the mounds of olives ready to start curing. We thanked our friends for sharing their bounty and balanced the buckets of olives carefully in the car so they wouldn’t tip over on the way home.
Today I started the soaking process. In ten days I’ll put them in a salt brine, and a few weeks after that, I’ll put them in crocks with a light brine flavored with garlic, bush lemon zest, rosemary, fresh dill, or anything else that takes my fancy.
Now, though, it’s time to snuggle in bed with my book.
What is your favorite project from this week? xo
by Krista | May 9, 2017 | Autumn
It’s cold tonight, and I’m tucked up in bed in a nest of blankets, garbed in flannel pjs with a scarf wrapped snugly around my neck.
It’s been a strange few months for me. Some things in my world have gone topsy-turvy, upsetting cherished ideas, plans, and commitments, forcing me to look at myself, my future, my life in an entirely different light than I have before.
It’s been scary and unsettling and, eventually, after tears and freak outs and finding the courage to stare it all in the face, rather exciting.
It all started with one unscrupulous employer. Then another. Then one more. (When things come in threes, I tend to sit up and take notice.) The first was merely unreliable, the second a sexual predator I reported, the third an international scam artist I had to report to the government so they could launch an investigation. Seriously whackadoodle stuff that shook me more than a little bit and left me broke, feeling rather adrift, and none too keen to trust new people. It also triggered some rather dreadful memories from my past, and I had to take some time to process things and figure out what I was going to do next.
I spent a lot of time outside, letting gardens and animals and wind and trees and sunshine and campfires and walks do their healing, strengthening work.
I read a lot, letting stories and poems and the musings of others help me navigate my own thoughts and feelings until I could see clearly instead of through a heavy fog of fear and uncertainty.
I reminded myself of the collaborations that I have with people who truly are wonderful, reliable, and a joy to work with. (Andy, Carrie, Cory, and Rowan, I’m looking at you. XO)
Yes, there are spectacularly awful people in this world, liars and cheats and plain ol’ disgusting wretches, but there are supremely marvelous people too, ones who inspire and support and cheer. Encountering the bad ones has made me treasure the good ones even more.
After the initial shock wore off, I could see the situations with genuine pride. In the past when I was treated poorly I just took it. I let abusers and manipulators and nogooddirtyrottenscoundrels trample all over me. Not this time. This time I stood up for myself and made them accountable for their behavior by reporting them to the proper authorities. I wasn’t a victim, and that feels really good.
Those situations also made me look at myself differently, and see if there were ways I could be brave and expand my own business to be my main business instead of a sideline.
So I’ve been brainstorming and talking with business friends and crunching numbers and making plans and sketching out big dreams. Slowly but surely things are coming together, and I’m so excited to share with you what’s ahead.
I won’t say too much yet, there are still a few more important details to be sorted, but I wanted to let you know I’m excited. My spirit is happy dancing and whenever I think of it I smile. Pretty sure that’s a good sign.
In the meantime I do the work I have with beautiful collaborators I love and trust, I learn how to stretch pennies further than they’ve ever been stretched, and I practice living in hope instead of fear. I also do little things that make me happy: medieval projects, picking olives with Bear, and making way too many bottles of hot sauce.
Things are going to be OK.
xo
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