by Krista | Nov 12, 2021 | Spring
I love deconstructing. Really, really love it. I love deconstructing recipes and furniture, appliances and books, politics and faith, working my way back to see all the components, figuring out how they work together, and seeing if there’s a better way.
I think deconstruction is one of the greatest privileges and responsibilities of being a grown-up because it leads to humility (I don’t know everything), compassion (nobody knows everything), and peace (it’s OK to not know everything).
Most of all, it leads to so much fun, adventure, and discovery. The world opens up when the preconceived ideas are dismantled, human beings are no longer the enemy but fellow travellers who have things to teach us, and our creativity flourishes as we press past boundaries and begin to build a new faith, community, political ideology, or way to make pancakes.
But first, we have to face the fear and prepare ourselves for backlash.
Institutions really, really, really dislike deconstruction. Political organisations, religious groups, businesses, friendships and families, they’d all prefer that we muddle along in a state of unquestioning acceptance and tradition because it makes things so much easier for them. They’re also rather fond of controlling people, and get quite cranky when we say, “No more.”
Sometimes it’s not about power or control, it’s simply the discomfort of change. Change in those we love is unsettling and scary, it threatens our sense of belonging, understanding, and security, it can make us feel like we’re being judged, abandoned, and as if our opinions, beliefs, and ideas don’t matter.
As I’ve deconstructed, I’ve lost community, family, and friends. I’ve been judged, rejected, gossiped and lied about. I was told I was evil, going to hell, and a shame to God, the church, and my community.
In the beginning, those reactions were devastating. They broke my heart and sent me through a long period of grief and mourning. And then, those reactions became a gift. They showed me the reality of how people saw me and freed me from relationships and institutions where I was not loved, accepted, and respected. And those lonely spaces they left in their wake? They were just what I needed to study, write, observe, examine, test, ponder, and discover.
Most of all, they gave me the time and space I needed to realise that going forward, no matter what happened, I would never abandon myself again. I would be my most devoted advocate, fiercest warrior, and dedicated worker-through-er-of-things so I could build a life grounded in reality, love, and adventure. Yes, adventure.
By choosing to see deconstruction as an adventure, it has become truly delightful. Yes, there are still periods of rage, grief, and loss as I uncover lies and process trauma, but I know now that each of those moments will be followed by peace, greater freedom, and deeper joy. I can go through the yuck because I know the wonder is coming. I can feel it as the trauma pain leaves my body, the nightmares lessen, my breathing becomes ever more deep and natural. I see it in my reactions to the world. I no longer have space for bullies or abusers, but my heart gives ample space for good folks with differing viewpoints, ideas, and thoughts. My world now is full of colour and nuance and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I write all this today firstly for myself, so I can celebrate how far I’ve come and how much I’ve learned, but secondly, for anyone who might be in deconstruction and feeling the terror of it.
You’re going to be OK. You really, really are. It’s going to be horrible and then beautiful, horrible, then beautiful, over and over until the beautiful begins to outweigh the horrible and the things and people that traumatised and harmed you will lose their power and you won’t feel the weight of them anymore.
You’re going to be OK because they lied to us. You don’t need faith to heal. You really don’t. You can heal with faith, and you can heal without it. Faith is not a determinant for healing from trauma and abuse anymore than it’s a determinant for healing from cancer or influenza or a broken leg. Anyone who tells you it is, is lying.
You’re going to be OK because you are never going to abandon yourself again. Slowly but surely you’re going to heal the disconnections with your own, dear self, you’re going to rebuild trust, you’re going to be able to distinguish your own voice from the clamour of others and find that it is wise and good and trustworthy.
You’re going to be OK because you have all the time you need to work through whatever you need to work through. There is no deadline, no exam, no evaluation, just good, steady, beautiful, loving work until you die. And every day when you wake up, you are enough, just as you are, no matter what stage of grief or healing or thriving you’re in. You’re just right and just where you need to be.
You’re going to be OK because you can do hard things. You’ve already done them. You’ve already survived lies and abuse and trauma and poverty and job loss and loneliness and rejection and illness and the loss of people you love. You’ve done all that. You’ve woken up every day and chosen life, and that is incredible.
You’re going to be OK because you don’t need to do this alone ever again. You can ask for help without shame, you can go to the doctor and keep going until you get the help you need, you can find a psychiatrist and keep trying them out until you get the one you need, you can get books from the library, listen to audiobooks and podcasts, join supportive Facebook communities, call depression or anxiety hotlines, go for walks, eat lots of veggies, drink enough water, sit in the sunshine, help others in need, take naps, cry your heart out, do something creative badly until you get better at it, whatever it takes to care for your own dear, beloved self. You are worth fighting for.
You’re going to be OK because you don’t need to know the ending to start the journey. You may end up with a beautiful new faith or a beautiful no-faith and no matter what anyone says, both of those are valid. If there is a God, he’s never, ever going to abandon you no matter what you are able to believe or not believe, and if there is no God, he was never there to begin with and you’re going to be just fine.
You’re going to be OK because you will find a home for yourself again. It’s going to be lonely for a while as you figure out who you are and what you believe, but, as you get settled in yourself, you’ll find people who will love you, as you. You will find good people who are loving and supportive and kind and will welcome you with open arms, people you can love and care for and who will do the same for you. There are people of faith and people of no-faith who are absolute gems and love based on a person’s humanity rather than whether they measure up to their correct idea of belief or not. There are good people who don’t care how you vote or what you believe, they just see and value you.
Lastly, you’re going to be OK because you don’t answer to anyone but yourself. You don’t owe anyone a description of your belief system or the state of your faith. You don’t have to explain it, defend it, or even define it. It belongs to you and you alone.
You might be a hope-er instead of a believer, you may retain faith but switch denominations, you may embrace a mix of pagan, Islam, and Christianity, you may toss all religion on the burn pile, you may simply not have the strength or energy to care anymore. It’s OK. That’s the other great thing about being a grown-up, you’re allowed to shape your own belief system. No one has the right to tell you what to believe. No one. They may think they have a monopoly on truth, but they don’t. It is simply impossible for any of us to have all the information in the universe to make a sufficiently informed decision about anything, so all we do is make our best guess. And frankly, when we realize that all of us are just guessing our way through life based on limited information, we’ll be a lot kinder to each other and a lot more humble.
One last thought. As humans, we get to keep growing, changing, and learning. We get to adjust and alter along the way as we learn and experience more. For me, there’s great comfort in this. This life is an adventure in every way, terrifying and exhilarating, mundane and wondrous. A deconstructed and mindfully rebuilt life is a glorious thing and I am so proud of you for doing this incredibly hard work.
Wishing you courage, endurance, and so much love as you explore and experiment and examine. You’re going to be OK. xo
by Krista | Nov 8, 2021 | Spring
The Grain Shed Retreat in Goomburra was filled with the scent of spices, herbs, berries, and fruit on Saturday as four friends and I gathered to make all sorts of boozy concoctions at “A Fine Tipple” workshop.
With just over 6 weeks until Christmas, it was the perfect time to bottle homebrews to be ready to celebrate the holidays or give as gifts for friends and family.
We made decadent Irish cream with Canadian whiskey, ruby-red raspberry liqueur, sunny mandarincello, smooth Bedouin date wine, and sweet Moscato infused with rosehips, hibiscus, goji berries, and mint.
We had such a wonderful time visiting and making a glorious, sticky mess as we zested piles of fresh mandarins, squished raspberries, and chopped sweet dates.
We whisked together cream, whiskey, coffee, and cocoa, blended dried herbs and berries for our own personal infusions, and noshed contentedly on the scrumptious morning tea made by my dear friend Bel.
As much as I love the face-to-face fun of in-person workshops, I know that not everyone is able to attend. So, I want to share with you the recipes we made so you can make them in your home and hopefully bring a bit of extra happiness and cheer to your holidays this year.
Irish Cream
Ingredients:
1 cup pouring cream
1 tsp coffee granules, powdered
½ tsp cocoa powder
¾ cup whiskey
1 tsp vanilla extract
½ cup sugar
1 ¾ cup evaporated milk
1. In a bowl add 1 Tbsp of the pouring cream and coffee and cocoa powder. Mix well.
2. Slowly add remaining cream, whisking until smooth.
3. Add whiskey, vanilla, sugar, and evaporated milk and whisk until smooth.
4. Pour into a jar, seal, and store in fridge until ready to use, up to two weeks.
Date Wine
Ingredients:
1 bag of dates
warm water
1. Cut dates in quarters and put in jar until 2/3 full.
2. Cover with warm water.
3. Seal and set in dark place for 7-10 days.
4. Strain, bottle, and drink.
Berry Liqueur
Ingredients:
2 cups raspberries
500 ml vodka
½ cup sugar
1. Place raspberries in bottle, add vodka and sugar, stir to mix, seal tightly.
2. Store in a dark place for 2-3 weeks and shake once a day.
Mandarincello
Ingredients:
6 mandarins
500 ml vodka
¾ cup sugar
¾ cup water
1. Zest mandarins, put in jar, cover with vodka, shake. Set in a dark place for 2 weeks.
2. After two weeks, put sugar and water in small saucepan and bring to the boil, stirring until sugar dissolves. Set aside to cool completely.
3. Add cool syrup to the mandarin mixture, seal, return to dark place and leave another week.
4. Strain, bottle, and store in fridge to drink cold.
Herb-infused Moscato
Ingredients:
½ cup assortment of herbs, dried fruit, and spices
2 cups Moscato
Directions:
1. Place dried herbs, fruit, and spices in a clean, glass jar.
2. Pour in Moscato to brim of jar.
3. Seal, shake, and store in dark place 2-3 weeks, shaking every day to ensure ingredients stay submerged.
4. Strain, bottle, and store in fridge to drink cold.
Please let me know how your brewing adventures go. I’d love to see what you make. xo
PS – You can also try my Cranberry Lime Beer here.
by Krista | Nov 1, 2020 | Spring
Wind continues to howl through the tree tops for the third day in a row, scattering leaves and branches around the farm yard and keeping us nice and cool. Since we’re only one month away from the blistering heat of summer, I’m overjoyed by every cool day we get.
We had luscious rain last week, truly glorious. It sank deep into our parched soil, washed dust off every leaf and limb, and sent newly-planted seeds shooting up into seedlings faster than I’ve ever seen. It is absolutely amazing to look outside and see green grass where we haven’t seen any in years. We still need more rain to fill up our tanks and help the land heal, but we sure are grateful for what came.
Post Viral Fatigue Syndrome (PVFS) continues to dog my footsteps, stealing my voice, waking me in the night with a wheezing, rattling chest, and sending me to bed for days at a time in agony of head and body. We don’t know how long this will last. Some have it for a few months, some a few years, and some never fully recover. I’ve had my weepy and discouraged moments, that’s for sure. And in those times Bear gives me big hugs, urges me to have a good ol’ weep, and reminds me that no matter what the future holds, we’ll face it as we always have, together. Such things are deep comfort to me. It is a dreadful thing to feel inside like you’re a disappointment and a burden, and inestimable relief to hear the people you love banish those lies and assure you that you’re loved for yourself, not for your health or energy or strength, just for you.
So, I have my down moments, my weeps, my woe-is-me’s, and then I take a deep breath and get back to what has become my superpower: finding joy in the midst of it all.
I try to find or create something good every day. Every. Day. Each morning I get out my pen and paper and write down a list of good things, things that will bring joy or comfort or healing or support, and then I do what I can.
Sometimes the “what I can” isn’t much at all: look out the window and watch the birds, listen to part of a really good audio book, have a cuppa with Bear while I prop my head up on his shoulder.
Other times, I can do more. I love those days. Days spent in my gardens harvesting herbs to dry and veggies and berries to eat, hours spent in my kitchen blending herbal teas that help me breathe well, sleep well, and not catch flus and colds on top of this PVFS yuck.
Making things is my favorite good day activity. Homemade cheese, fresh bread, quick Scandinavian-style pickles, that sort of thing. There’s something deeply satisfying about seeing bottles and jars of goodness lined up on the counter that gives me courage to wait out the really bad days.
In my good moments this past week I made Black Bean Pumpkin soup, Cheesy Dill Scones, and Hazelnut Cacao Nib cookies with a generous splash of homemade whiskey.
Sometimes my good things are solitary, and others I get to do with Bear. A few weeks ago we decided on two projects that make us smile: building a model train set and building a Scandinavian dollhouse. These are things that can inspire and delight us on the very worst of days, and we are having so much fun sketching plans, writing lists of parts and supplies, and dreaming up the looks that will thrill us most.
The train set will be mostly Australian with sections for Central, Western, and Eastern Australia that feature desert, rainforest, and coastline. In a nod to my Canadian heritage, we’re having a snow-covered mountain with an alpine village and a Canadian Pacific train chugging along. We grin every time we think of it.
My dollhouse will actually be a mouse-house, a cozy, log home to felted mice with Scandinavian design, furniture, and implements. I can’t wait to see it come together.
This weekend I made a beautiful little pot of mustard using garlic scape vinegar I made last year. Mustard is so easy to make and, if you’re anything like me, makes you feel downright happy to be alive. I like my mustard hearty and strong so I used whole brown mustard seeds to give it a mighty punch. If you prefer yours more mild, feel free to use white mustard seeds or yellow mustard powder. It is scrumptious on a toasted ham and cheese sandwich or a fresh one using leftover roast beef or pork. I love it in homemade mayonnaise and it gives tuna salad and potato salad a zingy bite that is marvelous.
Today, writing this post is the good thing I can do, so it’s time for a lie down with a cup of tea and the Christmas issue of Victoria magazine that just arrived in the mail.
What good things cheer your heart each day? I’d love to hear your ideas. xo
Homemade Mustard with Garlic Scape Vinegar
Vinegar Ingredients:
- Handful of fresh garlic scapes
- Apple cider vinegar
Vinegar Directions:
- Finely chop garlic scapes and place in clean glass jar. Cover with apple cider vinegar and seal. Place in dark cupboard or pantry and leave for 2-3 weeks. Shake once a day to ensure scapes remain covered by vinegar.
- Strain vinegar and bottle. (Reserve the scapes and as a pickle.)
Mustard Ingredients:
- 1/2 cup brown mustard seeds (use white mustard seeds if you prefer a mild mustard)
- 3/4 cup garlic scape vinegar
- 1/2 tsp fine sea salt
- 1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
Mustard Directions:
- Place mustard seeds in clean glass jar and cover with garlic scape vinegar, stirring to ensure there are no air pockets. Cover and set aside for 12-24 hours.
- Pour jar contents into food processor and pulse until smooth. If mustard is too runny, add more seeds or mustard powder and pulse until desired consistency is reached. If mustard is too thick, add a little vinegar and pulse until desired consistency is reached.
- Blend in salt and pepper to taste.
- Pour into sterilized glass jar and seal until ready to use.
by Krista | Oct 6, 2020 | Spring
We’re having the most spectacular weather at the moment with endless sunshine and wonderfully cool breezes sending the gum trees dancing. The drought continues unabated as we return to severe water restrictions and hope, hope, hope for rain, but outside my office is a stretch of green, my green patch that I water faithfully when the wind turns the windmill and fills our bore water tanks.
This green patch kept our geese, chickens, and the wild birds healthy and strong through last year’s hellish season of drought and bushfires, so I’m determined to keep it going again this year. While everything dries up around us after a brief flush of green from a couple of winter rains, this oasis cheers us no end. We love sitting on the back verandah and watching the life that is drawn like a magnet to this verdant patch. From tiny finches and fairy wrens to magpies, cockatoos, grass parrots, and rainbow lorikeets, they all take turns foraging through the grass to find food for themselves and their babies.
We keep troughs of water filled around our property so there is always water available for our animals, our neighbors’ sheep and horses, and the kangaroos, wallabies, wombats, echidnas, goannas, and other species that call our farm home. We can’t do much about growing the wild grasses, flowers, and herbs they need to thrive until the rains come, but at least they won’t go thirsty.
While we hope for rain, we prepare for drought and the brutal summer heat. I’ve been working hard making our gardens and orchards as resilient as possible by installing drip water systems, thick layers of mulch, and covering the fences with shade cloth to protect them from wind and heat.
And I’ve been planting. So much. It may sound silly to plant things during a drought, but if there’s one major thing I’ve learned through this drought, it’s this: the land thrives longer and bounces back quicker if it has things growing in it.
So I’ve filled my gardens with a mix of trees, bushes, leafy plants, vines, and root vegetables and herbs. The trees provide shelter for the smaller plants, while the leafy plants work as mulch to keep the roots of the trees cool and damp. The deep rooted plants keep the soil loose and friable and herbs like comfrey and yarrow provide endless fodder for the compost bin and compost tea so I can keep feeding the soil. And they all provide food for us, our animals, local wildlife, and bees while making the land stronger, healthier, and more resilient.
It’s hard work but good work and I love it so much.
Over the past couple of weeks I’ve planted lilly pilly bushes that are already starting to produce the purple and magenta fruits that I’ll turn into cordials, liqueurs, teas, and preserves, blueberry bushes that are covered with pale green berries, and elderberry bushes that are festooned with frothy white blooms. The apple, pomegranate, and citrus trees are flowering beautifully and we’re so hopeful that we’ll get a good harvest this year. The mulberry trees have new black berries for us every day and the feijoas, jaboticabas, and plum trees are sprouting vibrant new leaves and getting taller and stronger.
My friend Stacey and I have been studying about native bush tucker foods this past year, and we’re planting as many varieties as we can source. This week I put in a native currant bush, a native apple tree, several sea asparagus, and warrigal greens. Next up are native capers, Tasmanian mountain pepper, and native elderberry that produces bright yellow berries instead of the dark purple variety. I love learning about these plants and the ways they are used in food and medicine by the Aboriginal tribes that have managed this land for millennia.
My other great joy these days is my medieval herb garden. I love seeing the bare earth dotted with seedlings of motherwort, tansy, mugwort, rue, tulsi, calendula, chamomile, horseradish, galangal, turmeric, rose geranium, spearmint, marshmallow, burdock, peppermint, wormwood, lemon balm, yarrow, comfrey, and so many others. It’s even more fun harvesting them, drying them, and using them in all sorts of foods and herbal medicines. This week I’ve been making herbal tea mixtures, stirring together various combinations in big bowls before storing them in glass jars to use as the need arises. Yesterday I made one that relieves allergy and headache symptoms, one that strengthens the heart, and another that soothes the nervous system. In winter I like them hot, but in spring and summer, Bear and I prefer them iced and sweetened with honey or maple syrup.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the choices I make each day. Choices that either support the things I value or distract from them. I’ve been learning to get up each day, evaluate how I’m doing in mind, body, and spirit, and plan my day accordingly, doing what is good for me and the people and things I care about. It has really become that simple, just asking myself, “What is good for me today?”
My life doesn’t look like most lives, and that’s OK. It is good for me, good for Bear, good for the life we are building together. I’m finding new freedom and peace in making my good choices whether others understand or approve of them or not. I love that we can all have different passions, different cares, different things that drive, delight, and fulfill us. We need these differences to make the world a more balanced and loving and interesting place. It is comforting to know I can cheer on the passions of my loves without embracing them myself, to fully support their right to engage in what matters to them without taking it on and distracting myself from the life I am building. I read a phrase this week that thrilled me: “breathe in your trueness“. I love the picture those words create. I clarify my values, confirm my next good steps, then close my eyes, hang onto those thoughts and breathe them in, deep and sure, letting them filter down into my whole being so my path is clear. It makes it so much easier to say no and yes when opportunities present themselves because I’m not responding out of guilt or shame, but out of clarity of purpose. I love it.
What good things are you doing these days? xo
by Krista | Sep 5, 2020 | Spring
“When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and I am free.”
Wendell Berry
It’s a lovely cloudy day on the farm as I sit at my desk and watch the goats and sheep grazing and napping under the trees. Bear and our friend Brendan are in the shed making medieval armour and I’m sitting here quietly, sipping from a cheery Christmas mug full of chokeberry black currant tea and watching the gum trees sway in the wind.
I love home. It is a place of refuge and creativity, an oasis where we can rest our weary selves and delight in our animals, gardens, fields, and the woods. I’m especially grateful for our farm in the crazy times we’re living in. The news provides a steady stream of reasons to be in a constant state of fear and panic, but home reminds me that the world is far bigger than the news, and chockablock full of wonders and kind people and natural beauty and creative endeavours and delicious food and great books and amazing art and wondrous music and gorgeous animals and incredible plants and glorious sunsets. I am learning anew that it is possible to care deeply about issues yet not live in fear. The wild things take me back to that grounded place of peace from which I can do the most good for myself and others.
My French friend Martine loves the wild places too, and last week we packed a lunch and headed to the mountains for a day of adventures. Cedar Creek Falls is one of our favourite spots, especially on weekday mornings when there’s hardly another soul around. We amble along slowly, stopping often to sigh happily at views of waterfalls and towering cliffs and hidden caves.
The wind in our hair and sun on our faces and the sound of water tumbling over rocks all combined to wash away any vestiges of stress and anxiety, and grounded us in a present that was so beautiful you could feel it in your soul.
I love the pools of water, so clear you can see to the bottom, layered in colours of turquoise and rust.
We took turns going on solitary explorations while the other guarded the food. I loved scrambling over the rocks, sliding down to sit by the water, discovering wildflowers and even a tomato growing in tiny crevasses.
So many things were blooming, bright yellow wattle, tangled vines covered with bright orange blooms, and bushes festooned with tiny purple flowers that looked like orchids.
We sat here for a long time, legs dangling over the cliff, sipping cucumber water and eating slices of fresh berry tart with maple cream. We mostly sat in silence, sharing awed grins now and then as we soaked up the roar of the waterfalls, the cool breezes whistling down the canyon, and the sounds of whipbirds and kookaburras.
We returned home to dinner by the fire, our hearts full, our bodies strengthened, and our minds at peace, ready to face the world again. xo
by Krista | Nov 25, 2019 | Spring
My body has decided that in these hot months, getting up at 4 am is the best idea yet. And, to be honest, I think she may be right.
There is something quite magical about waking well before sunrise when our little world is dark and quiet and lusciously cool. At first all is still, nothing moving, and then, suddenly, as if with a deep, swelling breath, the wind begins to blow bringing in cold air from the fields and bush, rousing the birds from their slumber, whispering in the ears of sleeping animals, “It’s time to wake up!”
The goats and sheep ease themselves awake, working out the kinks from a night on the hard ground. The babies are the last to get moving, quite miffed that their hot water bottle mothers are no longer nestled beside them and keeping them warm from the brisk morning breezes.
The dogs are pure energy, leaping and galloping, barking in sheer delight at anything that moves, hurtling themselves at my legs for snuggles and pats.
I love watering my gardens in the dark, breathing in the scent of wet mulch and damp earth. I’m just able to make out the shapes of artichokes, purple beans, and fat green tomatoes and can see well enough to know that the hose I’m grabbing is indeed a hose and not a wriggling snake out hunting for mice. Although my main watering comes with the mid-day drip-hosing, truly the best innovation of the year for me, I like to give my plants a quick shower in the early morning, washing off all the dust and grime of the day before.
This morning we let the goslings out in the farmyard for the first time. In years past we let them out too soon only to have them picked off one by one by tawny frogmouths and other predatory birds. This year we put them in a big, secure pen with a swimming pool, feed, and loads of greens from my gardens until they were tall teenagers. Confident they were large enough to fend for themselves, I swung the gate open wide to the patch of grass I’ve been faithfully watering in preparation for this moment.
They loved it. The adult geese kept vigilant watch while the youngsters devoured tender green shoots of grass. When marauding magpies thought they’d join the party, they were chased off first by the grown-ups and then, when the younguns saw what was happening, all five of them too. I laughed heartily to see the bully magpies chased back to their nest by an irate gang of geese.
Once they were done feeding, the parents took them on a march around the farmyard, introducing the babies to the various water-troughs and reminding the dogs that if they even think of approaching the goslings, they will most certainly be pecked vigorously.
Once everyone is fed and watered and the herds put out to pasture, it’s coffee break time. We sit on the back veranda or the back steps, favourite mugs in hand, watching the finches, magpies, and galahs swoop and scour the ground for grubs.
This morning we discussed more ways to make our farm a haven for native birdlife. Bear has started building nesting boxes and special feeders while I set up birdbaths and water small patches of soil so they have somewhere to feed. While we are exceedingly mindful of using as little water as possible, we are equally mindful of the needs of the land and the wildlife.
Without patches of grass, there are no insects. Without insects, the birds have nothing to eat and they die. Without water troughs set out for the kangaroos, wallabies, wombats, and koalas, they die. Without keeping some trees and grass alive, the soil withers up completely and blows away and the land dies.
There must be life to keep life going.
Even when the rains do come, and they will come, I believe we must have restoration points to make the most of them. Areas of life and growth where the restoration of our land and animals can make a new start.
So we do what we can. It is so little in the grand scheme of things, but it brings us much joy and gives us something to focus on.
We’ve found the same to be true of ourselves. This year depleted us, body and soul. The drought and bushfires reflected the stress, anxiety, and pain we were facing each day. And as we learned how to thrive in the physical drought, it gave us lovely ideas for helping our inner selves thrive, regardless of the circumstances around us.
I also need restoration points. Areas of life and hope and growth that I nurture and protect so that as my health and strength return, I get to move forward from a place of established life.
Bear has been incredibly supportive in making these restoration points happen, from driving me to town to get drip hoses and drought-hardy plants to bringing home birdbaths and old tubs to fill with water.
One day he announced that he’d been secretly saving up for years to turn the back veranda into my very own office. A place where I could work and create and read and rest and recover surrounded by the things that bring me joy. He put in sliding glass doors so I could look out on our trees and animals and gardens. He put in air-conditioning so my Canadian self would no longer have to melt in unabashed misery 5 months of the year. And he scoured thrift stores and antique shops to find lovely old furniture with cubby holes to store all my treasures.
To say it means the world to me doesn’t begin to express how I feel. It still makes me cry when I see it. I can hardly believe it’s mine.
I love it out here so much. I cosy in here each morning to read and write, host my clients for afternoon meetings, and share it with Bear for breakfasts and lunches together every day. This past Sunday when it was wicked hot, we closed all the doors, turned on the aircon, and spent a gloriously lazy day reading, chatting, and treating ourselves to cold mango juice and After Eight chocolates. It has become a haven for us, a small oasis where we can just be.
Now we’re planning a similar place for Bear, turning one of the sheds into a man cave where he can have all of his beloved medieval gear on display, set up a desk to write the book he started, and have a cosy hangout for when our friends come over and they want a comfy place to work on chain maille, do medieval research, or relax with cold beers.
Restoration points. I love them. Places where we can restore ourselves well so we can face the world well and love our people well.
I especially love that we can make them anywhere. For the first time in the 44 years of my life, I have a space all my own, but before that, my restoration points were an old chair on the veranda, a straw bale in the hay shed, and a fallen log in the bush. I will always treasure them.
Where do you restore yourself? xo
