by Krista | Jun 28, 2016 | Winter
True winter arrived this morning in a hurtling fury of bitingly cold winds and plunging temperatures. We pulled on layers and I worked in front of a blowing heater to keep my fingers nimble enough to type. Brrr!
Breakfast was a hearty casserole made with chunks of olive sourdough bread, mounds of sausage, duck eggs, milk, roasted garlic, and good sharp cheddar. It sure hit the spot.
Bear braved the frigid weather and spent the afternoon building a medieval stove to take with us to Abbey Medieval Festival next weekend. It’s going to be a beauty, based on one in the Bayeux Tapestry, with special Bear additions designed to make cooking over the fire as easy as possible for those of us out there brewing medieval-style coffee, stirring medieval Bedouin pudding, or just heating up a stew for dinner.
I stayed warm inside working through my seemingly endless to-do list that always precedes a few days away from our property. There are lamb roasts to cook over the fire for a medieval feast with friends, medicines to mix, herbs to gather, medieval garb to finish, cakes to bake, tipples to brew, gardens to water and weed, animals to water and feed, laundry to finish, bags to pack, and a staggering list of articles to complete and submit. I’m getting there, slowly but surely, and it feels mighty good to cross each thing off my list.
I finally got outside this afternoon, as the late sun was sinking down through the trees, illuminating my gardens in a filtered dance of light.
With true winter’s arrival came a heavy frost, and it put an end to my record-breaking run of eggplants, chilies, and tomatoes. I reached amongst brittle frost-bitten vines and plucked the last of summer’s bounty, delighted to still be eating such things at this time of year.
The frost didn’t hamper much else in my gardens. My vines are still covered with peas, broad beans are flowering beautifully, and the sweet potatoes and horseradish are ready to be dug up.
It was so nice to be out there, in spite of the cold, soaking up sunshine and seeing so many things growing. I’m looking forward to a few weeks down the road when I’ll be harvesting candy-striped beetroot and purple carrots, and a few more weeks when it will be time to shell fat broad beans and maybe collect the first asparagus of spring.
In the meantime we’re thoroughly enjoying our bumper harvest of home-cured marinated olives.
It’s been quite a few months since Bear and I took turns clambering up a ladder into the wind-tossed branches of olive trees to pick olives for the first time. Since then I spent a couple weeks giving them a daily bath in fresh water, then slit every single one of them and putting them into brine for another few weeks, tasting them once a week until they were just right.
Then I gave them a good rinse and packed them into jars with an assortment of marinades. Some I covered with brown vinegar, others with a mild salt solution. Into every jar I tucked cloves of fresh garlic, in some I added shards of bush lemon zest and a sprinkling of dill weed, others received sprigs of rosemary, and one or two stayed with just garlic.
I confess I was nervous every step of the way, so worried I’d mess something up and ruin all our hard work. But I needn’t have been. The olives turned out beautifully, far better than I could’ve hoped for. Some are strong garlic (my favorite!), others have an almost nutty flavour (Bear’s favorite), and others have just that little hint of lemon, dill, or rosemary (yum!). Our friend Sue declared the garlic, dill, and lemon ones the best olives she’s ever had, which, of course, totally made my day.
The sun is setting now, lavishly golden through our bedroom window, and it’s time for a glass of wine, some pasta, and writing my next newspaper column before I head to bed.
What’s the weather like in your part of the world? xo
by Krista | Jun 23, 2016 | Winter
It’s been a sleepy sort of day, dark and rainy, cold and quiet, the sort of day where you want to curl up in bed with a book and not do much of anything. So I did, for a little bit, right after I got off work at 8 a.m. I climbed under the covers and read a few pages of a fun little mystery, feeling rather marvelous all warm and cozy under the covers as the rain pattered against the window pane.
It was lovely and relaxing, but then life beckoned and I rolled on out of bed and got busy with dishes and laundry and paying bills and making lists and paying more bills and cooking and whatnot until finally all the vital stuff was done and the rain stopped for a bit and I could go outside.
I went to visit our little kids, watching them nibble hay and bother the dog and try to nurse on the wrong mother and get head-butted for their efforts. This little one never fails to come up to me, prancing and skipping then skidding to a stop if I make any sudden movements. She’s a little adventurer and bold as a lion and I love her.
Kebab, our little ram, came up for a head scratch, and then he was off with his harem to wander under the trees and eat grass.
I headed for my gardens to see what they looked like after all that rain, and was astounded.
Scrawny seedlings have shot up several inches, tiny beetroot leaves are now nearly as big as my palm, pea vines are covered with fat pods, eggplants are plump and dark, and the tomato branches are hung with bright green tomatoes.
The greens have gone especially wild and are absolutely gorgeous in their vivid greens and brightly colored stalks. This rainbow chard is so pretty! It’s going to be beautiful sauteed with sultanas and toasted pine nuts.
These mustard greens are stunning with their lime and burgundy coloring. Since they’re rather strong, they can handle strong flavors, so I’ll cook them with crumbled sausage and caramelized onions.
I’m really fond of Swiss Chard, and have planted varieties in magenta, crimson, and bright orange. They’re so versatile and can be added to many things: chili, soup, salads, quiche, sandwiches, smoothies, etc. They’re one of the few plants I always have growing year round.
We’ve been eating simple, warming foods over these rainy days. Beef stew with red wine, scrambled eggs and sourdough bread, and toasted cheese sandwiches with tomato chutney.
Today I roasted several beetroots until they were tender, then tossed them with a balsamic Dijon vinaigrette, creamy Danish feta, and fresh thyme leaves for a lovely winter salad.
Today all sorts of good things arrived at our house. I picked up our first grass fed beef order from Highbrit Beef. It looks amazing and they even threw in free meaty dog bones for our Apollo, Freja, Solar, and Luna. They’ll be thrilled! I also received my latest heirloom seed order and am so excited to start planting again, especially after this good rain prepared the soil so beautifully. And, last but not least, a new River Cottage dvd to inspire and amuse us as we press on enhancing our skills as foragers, gardeners, orchardists, and animal carers. I do so love learning.
What good things are happening at your house this week? xo
by Krista | Jun 21, 2016 | Winter
It is shiveringly cold today, with an icy wind that goes right to your bones and sets you a-trembling.
In between dashes to the laundry line to hang up wet clothes (brrr!), I’ve been staying nice and warm inside, making cauliflower potato soup, doing dishes, and wood-burning the last few markings on my wooden clogs. I love them, and can’t help but grin as I clomp noisily across our wooden floors and try not to trip over myself stepping gingerly down our steps. They are astonishingly warm and comfortable, and I have a feeling these clogs and I are going to have a long and happy friendship.
This weekend I took time to chronicle recent observations in my healing. One of the most interesting discoveries I’ve made is that so many of the things I thought were “me” – workaholic, people-pleaser, insomniac – have fallen away. In their place is quietness of mind and comfy-ness of spirit. A natural rhythm is being restored and I find myself functioning in a healthy way as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It is a wonder to me, and I continue to be in awe of how our minds, bodies, spirits, are so interconnected. When one aspect is wobbly, all the others are affected, and when one finds healing, it spills over into all the other parts like a most beautiful infection.
Such discoveries give me courage to press on, to keep going for treatments, to keep meeting with my counselor, to keep touching base with my doctor to make sure we’re doing everything we can to promote healing.
One of those things for me is happiness through self-care. Bear has always been amazing at self-care. When he’s tired, he rests, when wants to build something, he builds it, when he wants to go somewhere, he goes. He’s so attuned to what he needs for fulfillment and happiness that it’s second nature for him to simply do it.
I, on the other hand, am still learning, but it’s a jolly fun learning process. This weekend was dedicated self-care time for me and Bear, and we made the most of it. Computers and phones off, delicious sleep ins, reading of books, watching of movies, chats over bowls of stew as rain bucketed down. He did leather work, I did word-burning, we shared popcorn and dark chocolate, took turns making cuppas, and treated ourselves to red wine, sourdough bread, and four different cheeses: English Red Leicester, Danish Havarti, Tasmanian Triple Creme Brie, and Italian Asiago flavored with chestnuts. Such good, nourishing things that allowed us to start this week rested, restored, and thoroughly inspired. We loved it.
Today it’s back to work, tackling all sorts of little household projects: laundry, dishes, and getting my medieval knives buffed up. Knives are one of my happy things. I do so love them, especially unusual ones like the Bedouin dagger Bear gave me (middle), the gorgeous horn knife (bottom) our friend Colin made, and the wonderful top one that our blacksmith friend, Master Scully, made from an old railroad spike.
Homemade dessert is another thing that always makes Bear and I happy. Today I made an Apricot Upside Down cake, and we dined quite happily on pieces still hot from the oven. The cake was just the thing for a frigidly cold afternoon.
Now I must brave the blustery winds once more and get the laundry in off the line and start folding.
What is something that makes you happy on a self-care day? xo
by Krista | Jun 17, 2016 | Winter
Yesterday afternoon as thick, black clouds blotted out the sun and made our little world wonderfully dark and still, I sat on the veranda with my Luna girl and just enjoyed it. Grass parrots flitting about in streaks of color, occasional bleats from the newborn goats in the paddock, our three little sheep trotting along from one grassy morsel to the next. In such moments our farm feels like a world unto itself. How I love it.
The last couple of months have been precious to me, ones of healing so deep that I nearly feel giddy from the heady sensation of darkness dispelled and crushing burdens dissolved. I knew my physical ailments were rooted in past trauma, but I had no idea how much until those traumas were addressed, healed, and released, and my pain went with them.
I’ve been on pain killers nearly every day since I got out of the cult fifteen years ago. Now I only need them on rare occasions, usually after a treatment as my body lets go of all the bad stuff. I haven’t had a nightmare in months. I fall asleep quickly, sleep well, and wake up most days without an alarm clock – which is saying something since I get up at 1:50 a.m. for work.
The biggest change has been the connected feeling I have within myself. As a coping mechanism, I learned to disassociate, to disconnect from myself and others, but I don’t need to do that anymore. And bit by bit, like collecting puzzle pieces that were thrown hither and thither by an enthusiastic toddler, I’m being pieced back together again. It’s been the most exquisite reunion, a wondrous sense of wholeness.
I’m deeply grateful for the lovely Bernie Giggins who has done so much to heal this battered heart and body of mine. Her kindness, wisdom, and marvelous sense of humor have seen me through the darkest moments of my life with a sense of security and strength. I’m still working through things, still finding areas that need to be visited and healed, but the progress I’ve made thus far means the world to me and gives me such hope.
That’s why I’ve been so quiet here. It’s been my time to be my own Mama Bear, to look after own soul with all the ferocity and loyalty of a grizzly mother. To fight for quietness and rest so my body can recuperate after each healing session. To protect my time to learn new ways of being, behaving, and connecting that are healthy and loving and good. And to focus on the things that bring me joy: my people, my gardens, animals, and books, my art and going on little adventures.
I haven’t had words until now. Not for my journal, not for my blog, not even to speak, but I’m finding them, and as I string them together, I’ll share them here.
It’s winter here now, but you’d never know it. I’m still picking tomatoes, my pea vines are covered with pods, and we have baby goats leaping about all over the place. It’s marvelous.
Bear and I have been doing all sorts of creative projects: building high backed medieval chairs, sewing a medieval quilt, and wood-burning everything from boxes to wooden clogs. I made a potting shed for my gardens and have been weaving sticks into my garden fences to create an artsy barrier for our goats. I made quince jam and Hungarian sausages, hot pepper jelly and apple wine. It’s been so fun.
One thing I’ve learned through all this is the importance of little adventures, and in the weeks to come I’ll be sharing some of my favorites from the last couple of months.
What is your favorite way to Mama Bear your heart? xo
by Krista | May 11, 2016 | Autumn
I’m taking advantage of a lull in our lovely but chaotic week to have a coffee, a bit of coffee cake, and a new episode of Midsomer Murders. It feels so good to sit awhile and catch my breath, think through my errand list for this afternoon and relax knowing dinner is in the crockpot and will be ready by the time I get home.
Although it’s dark, cloudy, and cold today, we’ve had spectacularly gorgeous days of late, clear blue skies, hot gold sunshine, and delectably cool breezes blowing in from the South.
When I’m not working, I’ve spent as much time as I can outside, gardening for hours and heading to our bush for hikes in the late afternoon.
I head out across the fields, wading through nodding grasses that glisten and dance, past prickly pear strung with spider webs.
I love entering the woods, the flickering dance of shadow and light that is both mesmerizing and invigorating.
Luna runs hither and thither sniffing in hollow logs, bounding eagerly after wallabies and kangaroos that pop up from their hidden napping spots in the grass.
I love how the late sun reveals so many layers of color and texture in the gum trees: papery white, shimmering silver, rust and grey and pale yellow.
We usually have a herd of our neighbors cows roaming our bush, keeping the weeds and grass down as a preventative measure against fire. But they’ve returned to their home in the outback and our bush is quiet again.
My sacred grove is as beautiful as ever, the trees grown taller, branches stretching out to each other across the circle of grass below until they’re nearly touching.
It’s such a lovely place to wander, birds overhead, wildflowers underfoot, leaves glowing lime green in the setting sun. With the sun on my face and the wind in my hair, a deliriously happy dog running up to me for cuddles and pats, well, it’s all rather wonderful.
Where do you like to go for a wander on a gorgeous afternoon? xo
