by Krista | Mar 21, 2016 | Autumn
I’ve learned that healing is more than just rest and medicine, it’s also doing the things that soothe and restore us in body and spirit.
Pain, exhaustion, nausea, all these things are debilitating enough on their own, when you add loneliness and isolation, they are much worse. So when my body has its down times on its path to healing, I try to incorporate the things I know are good for me and make me smile: extra sleep, simple food, good movies and books, and time spent in nature with lovely people.
I’m not up to driving yet, but Bear has kindly stepped into chauffeur position and takes me for little drives to keep my spirits up. Sometimes it’s just through the country to look at mountains and rainforest, others he takes me to a new thrift store for a bit of treasure hunting or to a favorite cafe for something decadent and delicious that neither of us have to cook. It’s been so nice and makes the hard things much easier to bear.
This week he drove me to the city to meet up with a dear friend for cuppas, chats, and time by the sea.
The skies were beautifully stormy as we drove to Sandgate with our friend Elizabeth. She’d invited us out for lunch at the tiny but bustling Doug’s Seafood Cafe set right across the street from acres of sand, wind-tossed palm trees, and seagulls hoping for a handout.
Elizabeth always has lovely surprises for us when we visit her, and this time she pulled from her bag a fully chilled bottle of Prosecco!!! How utterly delightful.
While Bear poured us glasses of bubbly, Elizabeth hustled off to place a secret order, so excited to surprise us.
And boy, did she!!!
A whole platter of oysters on the half shell, delectably fresh, tender, and delicious.
Another platter of fresh prawns, plump and meaty and wonderful, with a little bowl of lemon water to keep our fingers clean.
And the food kept coming! Crisp coleslaw, sweet corn and mixed lettuces, fried Barramundi, and plenty of hot, salty, chips.
It was marvelous, and we laughed with delight like kids viewing Christmas dinner.
It was so nice to sit and visit and eat and enjoy the view and people watching, our faces cooled by misty sea breezes wafting in.
After our sumptuous feast I headed to the beach to soak up scattered rain drops, gusty winds, and the exquisite beauty of the ocean at low tide.
It was mostly deserted, pools of salt water looking like swirls of paint on the canvas of the dark sand. I found a seat on the rock wall and watched dogs gallop through the water, their owners strolling contentedly behind them.
I love the ocean. Especially when it’s dark, stormy, and there’s hardly a soul to be seen. I find these moments deeply peaceful, my scattered thoughts slowing down to the gentle cadence of distant waves and the rustle of palm fronds overhead.
I sat for a long time, soaking it all in, breathing deeply of salt-tinged air, closing my eyes and letting the wind play merry havoc with my hair.
Then I went for a little stroll too, my eyes roaming the sand for treasures like this wonderfully weathered bit of driftwood.
I watched seagulls swoop and toddle and bob along at their private swimming hole.
I found a couple of shells in dusky shades of rose and rust, their surfaces mottled and roughened from a long journey tumbled about by waves and sand.
I marveled at the beach, it’s surface dotted with tiny balls of sand created by sand crabs.
And I took pictures, so many pictures, so I can return to this place any time even if I’m tucked up in bed.
It was a beautiful day, and we returned home to our farm with light hearts and good memories.
Do you have a favorite place to go that always lifts your spirits? xo
by Krista | Mar 18, 2016 | Autumn
Things have been rather quiet around here lately. I came down with a bad virus and had to step back from everything for a while to rest, rest, rest. I’m doing a bit better this weekend thanks to good medicine, but we’re still waiting on test results to figure out what to do next.
Before things got really bad, I was able to spend a day with some of my Viking friends. I’ve been waiting all week to tell you about our adventures learning how to dye linen with indigo, red and brown onion skins, and ferrous.
It was a wildly stormy day so we decided the best thing was to start with a cuppa.
Then we organized our gear: powdered indigo, bags of dried onion skins, little pots of ferrous and various powders. We set out all our buckets and stirrers and recipes, and submerged our unbleached and bleached linen pieces in vats of clean, cold water to get thoroughly saturated
My Dutch-Aussie friends, Mieke and Kate, are old hands at dyeing. They’ve been dyeing fabrics for years and have the most gorgeous collections of things they’ve made, from a woolen blanket dyed with bits of old iron and turned into a cozy cloak, to billowing sheets of silk dyed in luscious earth tones with eucalyptus leaves before being wrapped around a rusty iron bar, drizzled with salt water, and left for a few days until the rust dyed the sumptuous fabric in mesmerizing patterns.
We chuckled at ourselves looking like witches of old as we poured powders and mixed concoctions and stirred bubbling pots over the fire. Mieke was the chief witch, measuring out everything just so for the indigo dye, stirring gently clockwise and watching carefully for the telltale coppery sheen and flower at the center of the mixture that told us it was ready.
While the indigo dye sat for a bit, we got busy at the fire. One end of the fire was for cooking lunch – a succulent roast lamb and root veggies – the other for pots full of onion skins, alum, and hot water. We were excited to see what colors the different onion skins would create.
The brown onion skins turned the linen a rich buttery yellow.
The red onion skins, amazingly, also turned the linen yellow, but a brighter, clearer yellow, not so rich.
I like them both.
As we worked, the scent of fire-roasted lamb wafted enticingly by, making us ravenously hungry. Soon it was time to sit down and everyone left their jobs – making leather shoes, stitching a woolen garment, squirting brothers with squirt guns – and clustered around the big table for a mighty feast.
I’ve never had such good lamb – moist, tender, full of smoky, garlicky flavor. It went beautifully with the assortment of root veggies also cooked over the fire.
We added thick slices of fresh bread, plump olives, savory sun-dried tomatoes, fruit and nuts, and a glass of red wine, and ate and visited while the rain poured down. Wonderful.
After lunch we tackled dyeing with ferrous. Unlike the onion dyes, ferrous is done in cool water and goes through a couple of stages.
The first stage turns the white linen a muddy sort of gray.
The next turns it a chocolate brown.
And when you expose it to the air – the magic happens. The brown disappears and the fabric gets lighter and brighter until within a few minutes…
It looks like this. Isn’t it gorgeously sunny and wonderful?
After it dried awhile, Kate double-dipped the fabric and it became a richer, deeper shade, almost a rust. So beautiful.
Our final project of the day was dyeing with indigo.
Indigo is pure magic to me. The name conjures up images of exotic Bedouin women swathed in layers of luscious indigo robes billowing in the desert winds.
Unlike the onion dyes which could be stirred vigorously, or the ferrous dyes which involved squeezing and swirling the fabric, indigo dyeing is a slow, methodical process. The fabric is carefully lowered into the vat of dye and gently submerged and oh-so-gently stirred to avoid any air bubbles.
When the linen is brought up from the indigo dye bath, it’s not much to look at, the color a rather insipid blue-green.
But as the air hits the fabric, the chemistry happens, and before our eyes it transformed from sickly green to gorgeous turquoise to…
…a rich indigo blue.
Learning to dye linen was an incredible experience. I’ve wanted to play with natural dyes for a long time and I loved learning from Mieke and Kate.
I drove home that night in the pouring rain, inspired to experiment with things growing in my gardens, orchards, and our woods and fields. I want to try red cabbages and fennel fronds, gum leaves and mulberries. I’m especially looking forward to a dyeing project with my friend Mim, who is going to teach me how to dye with madder.
The pieces I dyed with Mieke and Kate are going to be turned into a medieval quilt to keep Bear and I cozy on our medieval camping trips. I’ll keep you posted on how it goes.
Have you ever used natural dyes? What color would you like to learn how to make? xo
by Krista | Mar 9, 2016 | Autumn
I love trees.
New, springy saplings and old, weathered stumps, good climbers and great shade-ers, ones that rustle dreamily in the wind and others that burst into scent when the sun warms them.
And I especially love ghostly ones that shimmer and shiver ominously and look stark in the moonlight.
My friend Sue recently took me to a spot filled with such beauties, Underwood Park. Just down the road from the Buddhist Temple, it is a gorgeous pond/swamp that looks delectably mysterious on dark, overcast days.
At first glance the area seems empty and eerily quiet, but the longer you look the more you see until it is veritably teeming with wildlife.
Oodles of birds make their homes here, Purple Swamphens and Australasian Grebes, Dusky Moorhens and Little Black Cormorants. Sue and I stood for ages watching them paddle, swoop, and float, amazed by some of their otherworldly markings that look straight out of a Dr. Seuss book.
Other creatures live here too, vivid green tree snakes and terrifying brown ones. We met a lady along the boardwalk who told us about a particularly aggressive brown who chased her husband the other day when he was out for his run. Yipes!
Before we heard that charming tale, I was blissfully unaware, thoroughly delighting in the deliciously creepy surroundings, peering into the murky waters to see what I could see.
I was just saying to Sue, “This water looks like it would be full of life…” when this fellow popped up from the depths and startled me half to death. A man on the boardwalk came over for a chinwag, (they’re a chatty lot, these board-walkers) and informed us that he, the lizardy chap, was a water dragon. I was delighted. Especially since he stayed right where he was and only blinked at me.
On we walked, loving the darkly medieval feel of the place yet keeping a weather eye open for any bad tempered brown snakes that might be lurking nearby. It reminded me of that scene in the old Disney Swiss Family Robinson movie when the two brothers and the girl they rescued are wading warily through a similar swamp, only to be accosted by a massive anaconda. Shiver.
Thankfully the snakes kept themselves to themselves and we had a terror-free stroll through an exquisitely beautiful place, watching Spoonbills and Ibis sun themselves and look for breakfast beneath the rippling surface of the swamp.
Where is your favorite place to go for a morning stroll? xo
by Krista | Mar 7, 2016 | Autumn
“When you separate yourself by belief, by nationality, by tradition, it breeds violence.
So a man who is seeking to eradicate violence does not belong to
any country, to any religion, to any political party or partial system;
he is concerned with the total understanding of mankind.”
J. Krishnamurti
I have a tricky relationship with religion. And politics. And organized belief systems of any sort.
Being part of a faith system for many years that happily tromped over the rights and worth of anyone who was not deemed acceptable has made me leery of anyone or anything claiming to know The Truth. I can’t fathom how it is possible for anyone to know The Truth. We can’t even fully understand ourselves or each other let alone our Deity (or lack thereof) of choice, so it’s baffling to me that any of us have the hide to say, “I know. I’m right and you are wrong.”
I do believe, however, that we have the incredible privilege of muddling along through life trying to figure it all out. And what a gift that is. To be able to go through life observing and reading and studying and experimenting and discussing and thinking as we find the beliefs that make sense to us and help us navigate this world in a braver and more loving way.
I think that’s a marvelous adventure.
Over the weekend my friend Sue took me to a Buddhist temple near her house. It is a stunningly beautiful place set in the middle of the bush, surrounded by trees and gardens and kangaroos nibbling on the grass.
I know next to nothing about Buddhism, so it was rather lovely to wander around without any preconceived notions to influence my experience.
The first thing that caught my attention was the color. Isn’t that orange marvelously vibrant and full of life? And such incredible workmanship in every detail, from roof lines and door lintels to pathways and gardens. So much love and work has gone into this place.
The second thing I noticed was the practice of removing shoes before entering the temple. I don’t know the reasoning behind this, but it delights me. How I would’ve loved going to church barefoot when I was a girl. As an adult I found that it instantly reminded me of my humanity, of my equal standing with all those around me, and I must say the cool marble underfoot felt wonderful on a hot day.
I really loved the courtyards and gardens that fill the temple and grounds. Their serenity gives me the same feeling I experience at the Japanese Gardens I visit regularly. Wandering the pathways was so calming and soothing, especially with the accompaniment of tinkling bells and incense wafting out from the temple.
Carefully clipped hedges were festooned with vivid orange berries and lush purple flowers, and the paths were carpeted with crunchy fallen leaves, the first harbingers of Autumn.
Tucked among the rosemary, flowering bushes, and pebbled pathways were statues of Buddha at various stages of his life. This one was so jolly and carefree I couldn’t help but smile.
I’ve always liked elephants, finding them such incredible examples of controlled strength. This beauty and his twin guarded the entrance to the temple, and I think he looks rather fetching in his flowered headband and the richly decorated blanket over his back.
Frangipanis (known as plumeria to my North American friends) never fail to delight me. They represent all that is wonderful about the tropics – beauty and warmth and heady scents on soft breezes.
We wandered through a more woodsy part of the garden and spotted this fellow who looked so lovely with a lion cub playfully licking his face.
Turns out he is the “man of cats” – a one time lion hunter who later converted to Buddhism. After he attained enlightenment, a tiny lion cub trotted up to him. Onlookers believed the cub was thanking the man for giving up the killing of lions which had spared the lives of his family. Since that moment, the man of cats and the lion cub were inseparable.
I think that’s beautiful. A gorgeous reminder that no matter what we’ve done in the past, we can become loving and kind people now.
It was a beautiful afternoon in a beautiful place, and we returned home with peaceful and full hearts. xo
by Krista | Mar 1, 2016 | Autumn
Autumn arrived this morning and I am overjoyed. It brought some wind, a smattering of rain drops, and cooler temperatures, so Bear and I celebrated with ham potato soup for breakfast. So cozy and good.
We had a really lovely weekend in spite of scorching heat. We spent a day with some of our Viking friends, shuffling from one patch of shade to another as we worked on all sorts of projects. Some made leather shoes and sewed linen garments, others carved beautiful Viking symbols into wood and one used the finest linen thread I’ve ever seen to start the process of making her own linen. Amazing. I brought my spinning wheel and loom along, and received really great tips on weaving and spinning that make the processes not nearly so daunting. Unlike Bear, who astounds me with his ability to design and build things in his head before ever pounding a nail or drawing a pattern, I’m a more hands on approach kind of girl, and learn much better watching someone do something. I’m always so thankful for patient people who don’t mind walking me through things.
We also picked up all our beekeeping equipment, and are now thoroughly kitted out with big white suits, a smoker, honey extractor, leather gloves, and a hodgepodge of other things you need to get honey from comb to jar. Our lovely bees will arrive soon and I can’t wait to see them.
On Saturday I made a batch of lilly pilly liqueur using the lilly pillies growing in a big clay pot in my kitchen garden.
Although making big batches of wine and cider is great, I have a soft spot for liqueurs because you can make them with only a handful of fruit and still have something lovely to sip on within a week or two.
Since my lilly pilly bush is still young and only producing a few cups of berries each season, liqueur is a wonderful way to capture the essence of this Australian native fruit. By next year I should be harvesting enough berries to make jam and jelly, but for now, I will cherish my little bottle of lilly pilly liqueur.
The process is simple: for every cup of fruit add 1 cup of vodka/rum/spirits and one cup of simple syrup (equal parts sugar and water heated until the sugar dissolves, then cooled). You can also do it with straight sugar, but I prefer the simple syrup which isn’t as sweet but still gives a smooth liqueur texture and flavor.
Give the fruit a bit of a mash (since lilly pillies are not a soft fruit like raspberries, I chopped most of them in a food processor) and pour into a sterilized glass jar. Top up with vodka and simple syrup and stir well. Cover with a clean dish towel or cheesecloth and secure tightly with string. Store in a cool, dark place for at least a week or two, and up to a couple of months, making sure to stir the fruit mixture once a day with a sterilized stainless steel spoon so no mold forms.
Taste once a week and when it reaches your desired flavor, strain the liqueur into a sterilized bottle and seal until ready to drink. Some folks throw away the fruit, but I like its boozy flavor and fold it into cakes, pancakes, and scones, or simply pour over ice cream.
Lilly pilly liqueur is a gorgeous color, beautiful for festive occasions such as Christmas or Valentine’s Day, or whenever you feel like treating yourself. It’s delicious at room temperature, but during the heat of summer it is even better cold. You can drink it straight, stir it into a mojito, or pour it over panna cotta or ice cream.
It’s been a good but busy weekend and I’m ready to curl up with a book and a nip of lilly pilly liqueur.
What is your favorite fruit? Have you ever made it into a liqueur? xo
by Krista | May 28, 2015 | Autumn
“It was time to take the pumpkin out of the pot and eat it.
In the final analysis, that was what solved these big problems of life.
You could think and think and get nowhere, but you still had to eat your pumpkin.
That brought you down to earth.
That gave you a reason for going on.
Pumpkin.”
Alexander McCall Smith
This quote makes me smile, reminding me that even during life’s great upheavals, the simple things keep us grounded, keep us going. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, sunrise, sunset, over and over they come, dragging us back from the storm to quiet our souls and nourish our bodies.
Thank you so much for the messages and comments of love and support regarding my post about the Duggar abuse story and the ATI Cult. Each one meant a great deal to me. XO
This week one news service after another has exposed more stories of lies, abuse, and cover-ups, giving voice to many who were victimized in that world. It has been incredibly healing. For the past 15 years we’ve been effectively silenced, told we were lying or exaggerating about what happened, that we needed to “get over it”, needed to forgive and confess our bitterness over the abuse we experienced.
No more.
Now places like CNN are telling our stories. They’re doing the investigations, they’re holding the leaders of these organizations accountable, they’re pressing for answers, and it has brought about much healing in our lives. The sort of healing that comes when victims are validated, their stories believed, their experiences acknowledged.
I hope very much that Josh Duggar’s victims, and anyone who has been abused, will also receive validation and find a safe place where they can grieve, heal, and thrive.
I also like the quote at the beginning of this post because our farm world has been all about pumpkins this week.
Good friends completed their pumpkin harvest and invited us to stop by and collect as many of the leftovers as we wanted. Such a gift!!
So Bear and I bundled up against the frigid wind and headed out to their paddock. We trudged through muddy hillocks and tripped over pumpkin vines and hauled two trailer loads of pumpkins back to our farm.
Our goats adore pumpkins, so we made their day as we hurled pumpkins onto the ground, watching them smash against rocks and break apart into brilliant orange pieces perfect for goat-nibbling.
Note: if you’re ever stressed about anything, smashing pumpkins is a marvelous antidote.
By the second load we were so tired and sore we couldn’t be bothered with smashing anything, and simply rolled them off the back of the trailer.
We were able to rescue a few pumpkins that hadn’t been damaged by rains or frosts, and share them with friends. A few more are saved in my greenhouse, ready to be turned into soup, pie, or simply chopped up and roasted for pasta, pizza, or roast chicken.
This week I’m thankful for those who stand against abuse, who stand up for anyone who’s been abused, and kind friends who share food that comforts and sustains.
XO
