by Krista | Oct 18, 2016 | Spring
It’s a gorgeous morning on our farm, the wild winds and pelting rains of yesterday forgotten in a wash of sunlight and stillness. The world looks clean and bright and all is peaceful.
Recently a retired friend of mine told me that she’d spent the 50 best years of her life working non-stop, trying to build something good to pass on to her descendants. She doesn’t regret the investment, but wonders now why she thought she had to only work, work, work and rarely, if ever, take time to play. She urged me not to spend my life working, but to make time for the inspiring, the beautiful, the things that delight.
I love friends like that. Friends who remind me of what’s important. And that it’s never too late to start fresh.
She’s part of my “in cahoots” tribe, and with her and others we’re redeeming the lost moments, making time for the things that make our souls sing.
Like finding a café in Toowoomba that looks like it was plucked out of Greece or Italy or France – or some splendid hodgepodge of the three.
Café Valetta has become a favourite spot to meet with dear friends when we’re adventuring in Toowoomba. Such a wonderful escape from the ordinary, a charming oasis that begs for leisurely visits and solitary reveries.
Recently I met my friend Bernie there, and we had the best talks and laughs over mammoth pieces of cake – carrot for her, red velvet for me – basking in dappled sunshine and fragrant breezes and beautiful views of the park across the road.
I enjoyed a solitary cuppa there when I arrived early for a meeting, letting the cool morning air whisk my imagination back to beloved trips overseas and finding hidden cafes in Paris, Malta, and atop a cliff in Greece. You know you’ve found a good spot when it reminds you of places that hold beautiful memories.
I’ve thought a lot about what my friend told me. Since that chat we’ve saved up money to go to an Andre Rieu concert and to see the Russian Ballet perform “The Nutcracker” over the holidays. Things that may not delight others but fill our souls up to overflowing.
We will always have work to do, always, and work is a good and necessary thing, but our souls need nourishing every bit as much as our bank accounts need filling. Sometimes I’m really good at remembering that, other days I need a nudge.
What good thing will you make time for this week? xo
by Krista | Oct 12, 2016 | Spring
It’s a gorgeous afternoon, soft and golden, cool and green, our goats and sheep nibbling contentedly among the shifting shadows of the gum trees.
A lime yogurt cake is baking in the house, and Bear and I just finished a break on the veranda, watching our little world as we chatted and sipped cold drinks. It’s so good to be home.
Monday was a lovely but busy run-around day. We got up early and drove out to the Pilton hills to pick mulberries at our friend Carolyn’s property. She is an incredible gardener, generous with her produce and her time, happily trading and sharing whatever bounty she has whether it’s a basket of limes, a bundle of asparagus, or, at this time of year, a few kg of mulberries.
I always love visiting her and meandering through her gardens and orchards to see what amazing things she’s built, planted, or harvested. We had a fun time crawling about under and among the mulberry branches, filling baskets and bins with gorgeous, ripe berries. Carolyn and I kept getting our long, blond hair tangled in tree limbs and emerged looking like wild women with berry stains everywhere and hair stuck up with leaves and rogue mulberries. Bear, on the other hand, appeared utterly unscathed. Even his hat remained on his head!
Laden down with mulberries we bid farewell to Carolyn with promises to drop by bottles of homemade mulberry liqueur and cordial.
Then I was off to Oma’s to process all the berry beauties. We pushed them through a hand-cranked sieve that retained the seeds and left us with gorgeous mulberry juice. Then we made sugar syrup and blended it with the juice before bottling. Oma processed hers in a hot water bath and I put mine in the freezer. I just love that gorgeous color.
Next up was making pasta. Oma’s recipe is simply 1 egg per cup of flour. We made a 5 cup batch using Oma’s free range duck and chook eggs that turned the dough a rich yellow. We floured it well and cut it into workable pieces.
With mulberry stained fingers we pushed the dough through the pasta machine into long, wide ribbons, then again into thin sheets, and once more as we cut them into fettucine and vermicelli. The weather was so warm that the pasta was dry before I got home and I didn’t have to hang it to dry.
It felt so good to come home with glistening bottles of jewel-tone mulberry syrup, stacks of homemade pasta, and plans for how to use both.
With the warmer weather we’ve had, I’ve been making all sorts of cold drinks with the mulberry syrup. After the long day of berry-picking and pasta-making, I made us Mulberry Gin cocktails. Yesterday afternoon I raided my garden for fresh herbs, then sat on the veranda with Mulberry Lemongrass Iced Tea, while bottles of Mulberry Mint Iced Tea chilled in the fridge.
Tonight we’re having my homemade vermicelli tossed with roasted tomatoes and garlic. I’m really looking forward to it.
What is your favorite cool down beverage? xo
by Krista | Oct 6, 2016 | Spring
Recently someone from my past communicated with my husband, telling him I have no mind of my own, no will of my own, that any thoughts, beliefs, or choices I have formed, expressed, or made are not mine but those forced upon me by him and others.
It’s an old trick of Patriarchy. A tried and true method to control and suppress women, smother their doubts and questions, and undermine any attempts they make to break free.
In the past, such words were lethal to my very sensitive heart and mind. I believed them. I accepted that I did not matter, that any questions or doubts I had were the work of the Devil, that any dreams and hopes I had for change were merely the reflections of a rebellious heart and needed to be confessed, abandoned, and replaced with whatever my authorities decided was best for me.
I picture those words like those heavy, leaden blankets you wear during x-rays, hurled over to smother me, obliterate my voice, douse my light, keep me under control.
For most of my life I lived under that blanket, quietly accepting my lot, trying to find ways to shimmer a little in the darkness, keeping Me safely hidden.
I’m not part of that world anymore. I left it with three suitcases, a one-way plane ticket, $1000 in my bank account and a passionate, desperate hope that things would turn out OK.
They did.
Bit by bit I got out from under that strangling blanket. I’ve learned to think, to speak, to be without shame, to link arms with fear and courage and tackle grief and rejection and loneliness and illness, and slowly but surely stand on my own two feet with a mind of my own and a worldview and faith shaped by my own experiences. I have friends, true friends, who love me for me and don’t care two pins about the all the external stuff. They see me, with all my foibles, and love me anyway.
The Blanket People hate that.
So every couple of months they send someone along to contact us to try to get me back and return me to the girl living in darkness and oppression and abuse. They tell me I’m going to hell and am a shame to God and all of them. They accuse him of hiding me in a dark medieval cult. There have been death threats and desperate attempts at manipulation. They’ve tried to turn him against me with private messages telling him I traveled the world sleeping with men in exchange for money, that I was never abused or in a cult, and that I only married him for his money. They go through Robbie because in that world, it’s the Men who decide what’s to be done about the Women. My decisions and choices and thoughts have no weight simply because I’m female.
In the beginning such communications were so traumatic for me I’d be vomiting, get migraines, and have nightmares for weeks afterwards. As I healed and got stronger those symptoms eased and eventually I could see that although I’d stepped out from under the blanket, the blanket was still being used to harm me. The blanket needed to be burned.
I’ve learned that the only way to burn blankets is to find out what gave the blanket its power in the first place. To go back in time to when the lies and false beliefs took root in my heart and mind, and replace them with truth. It’s been an arduous task, but a precious one. With each journey another chain is broken, another blanket burned, and the peace I’m experiencing is beyond description.
I’m so thankful for Bear and our dear friends who have stood by me through all this, who helped me unpack the lies and remind me of truth whenever I got wobbly. Because I do get wobbly. Sometimes the pain overwhelms the truth and I can’t see it anymore. That’s why we need each other, to help us get out from under the blanket when it starts smothering us again.
Today, as the sun shines so brilliantly, I’m celebrating that this latest blanket toss didn’t smother me. I was able to see it for what it was – lies, fear, control – and reject it outright, burn that sucker, then remind myself of all the loving, non-smothery people in my life who make this world a beautiful place. xo
by Krista | Oct 3, 2016 | Spring
It is dark and blustery this morning, rain pelting the windows and drenching everything in sight. It’s cold and wild and absolutely wonderful.
We are home again after a lovely little jaunt to stay with our friends Martine and Ray. They are our neighbours at medieval events and we love them. Martine is from France, Ray from England, Bear from Australia, and me from Canada, so when we get together it’s a marvellous hodgepodge of accents and cultures.
Their home reminds me of the wilderness lodges of Canada and the alpine homes of Germany. Stepping inside I felt my heart clench with that exquisite feeling of familiarity and welcome. I was instantly at home and so excited that we got to sleep in the loft.
It was a weekend of utter relaxation. I slept 11 hours our first night, and feel more rested than I have in months. When I finally got up, this was my morning view.
We’ve always thought Ray and Martine were splendid, but their coolness factor shot through the roof when we spotted a Tardis in their back yard!!! Ray is handy like Bear, and he built it himself. It’s situated so the rising sun illuminates the glass and makes it look like Dr. Who is in. It makes me smile whenever I think of it.
We had such a lovely time. Although Bear and I often travel to the Brisbane area, it’s nearly always to DO something. Complete a project, run an errand, attend a meeting, set up or break down medieval camp. This weekend was a true getaway that left us refreshed, restored, and excited to get back to normal life again.
We rested a lot, and spent hours on the shady veranda or curled up in splendidly worn leather chairs talking about anything and everything. All our meals were long and leisurely as we chatted away whilst nibbling on platters of cheese, fresh fruit, and an array of delicious salads. Such good hot weather fare. We savoured bowls of wobbly crème caramel, and ate far too many ripe strawberries crowned with tottering dollops of Nutella.
After a jaunt to the nearby strawberry farm, we bid farewell to our friends and drove home over the mountains armed with lists of recommended books to read and movies to watch. It was a lovely little holiday. xo
by Krista | Sep 30, 2016 | Spring
The wind is howling outside my bedroom window, shrieking round the eaves, tossing tree branches in a wild dance.
It’s been a crazy spring, hot and humid one day, shiveringly cold and pouring rain the next. I’ve never seen our area so lush and green. My hollyhocks and mustard plants are now well over six feet tall, towering above the garden fences looking so pretty as they dance in the wind and late afternoon sunlight.
The past few weeks have been a whirl for me, with scarcely a moment to sit down and catch my breath. They’ve been filled with good things and lovely people and I wouldn’t change a moment, but I’m tired and ready for a rest.
Thankfully, starting tomorrow, I shall have one for a few days.
This week Oma and I finished smoking all the pork and everything is wrapped well in paper and tucked into our freezers for use through the rest of the year. Our massive hanks of prosciutto have been well peppered and salted and are hanging in a dark, cool place for the next 8 months or so. They already smell so good, I can only imagine what they’ll be like when they’re done hanging.
Our pickled red cabbage is done and keeping nice and cold in the fridge to be added to salads, tacos, or eaten straight out of the jar. The sauerkraut isn’t quite finished, but is already so good that we keep pinching mouthfuls from the crock.
Our homemade brews are bottled – absinthe, whiskey, Sambuca, and black raspberry cordial – and the spirits for the cherry brandy are almost ready.
We’re both exhausted from our labors, but we’ve had so much fun. We joke that Oma is the brains of the operation and I’m the brawn. She hands out orders and I hop to it, lifting this, pouring that, fetching sugar and spices and bags of salt, clambering in and out of the smoker as she hands me bacon and speck and pickled pork to hang inside. Bear keeps us well supplied with meat hooks and wire and does all the sharpening of knives and fixing of implements to make our jobs easier. It’s been quite the team operation.
On work days we take turns making lunches and cuppas for each other. I always love when it’s Oma’s turn to make lunch because she teaches me all sorts of Hungarian recipes using homemade pasta, fresh tomatoes, capsicum, onion, and garlic, loads of proper paprika shipped over from Hungary, and her own prosciutto, bacon, and speck.
This week she taught me the beloved Hungarian street food – langos. She said when they would make bread, they’d always set aside a few small pieces of dough to make langos. They’d stretch it out quite thin, making sure it doesn’t tear, then pop it into a hot pan sizzling with oil and garlic. The trick to getting langos crispy on the outside and soft on the inside is not to mess with it. No pressing, no shaking, no mussing about with it while it’s cooking. Just leave it on one side until it puffs up beautifully and is golden brown, then flip it over and leave for another 5 minutes or so.
It’s best eaten hot with any variety of toppings. We ate ours with plain Greek yogurt mixed with fresh dill and salt. Sour cream is the more traditional choice, but the yogurt is just as nice.
I never thought that bread would keep us going all afternoon, but we were both still full by late afternoon. Such delicious, simple, and inexpensive fare. I’m smitten.
What’s your favorite simple lunch? xo
by Krista | Sep 28, 2016 | Spring
I’m hobbling about these days, aching from stem to stern after giving my back a good wrench over the weekend. Bear tore a muscle whilst engaged in medieval combat, so the two of us are quite the pitiful pair as we wobble and moan through our chores and projects, then sink down into squishy chairs and try not to move.
Although we’re aching now, we had a marvelous time at the St. Ives Medieval Faire, camping with good friends and making great memories.
It always does us good to get away for these events, to immerse ourselves in medieval life and return home invigorated from living outside, garbed in linen and wool, eating food that smells of wood smoke and drinking wine from earthenware vessels. I hope to share pictures of our adventures with you later this week.
It also does us good to return home, to this place we love so much and are working hard to build into something sustainable, welcoming, and inspiring.
Yesterday evening I had to be out in the magical light that glimmered through the trees. I filled a glass with kumquat juice and soda water and sat in the sunshine, letting it warm and calm me.
I find it healing to just sit now and then. As the wind sends leaves dancing and the sun warms and birds flit about, the world slows and steadies and, for me at least, it calms my thoughts and slows my breathing and I feel at peace.
I’ve made time for those moments a lot in recent weeks, and it’s helped me navigate some painful situations that in the past would’ve knocked me flat and set my mind roiling with anxiety. The sitting forces me to stop and rest awhile with whatever is troubling me. It takes away the divide between me and it, and makes the difficulty more companionable, as if between us we can figure this out. And we do.
Sitting outside helps too. Surrounded by plants and trees and creatures that are steadily going about their business inspires me to do the same. I think of these words by Lao Tzu so often:
“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.”
Or, as Bear says, “softly, softly, catchee monkey.”
I’m learning, and it feels so lovely when I manage it.
Yesterday I made slow food. Mexican black beans simmered for hours with garlic, onion, and chilies, shredded pork cooked long and slow until the edges were crispy and the insides fork tender.
Today I’ll spend several hours with Oma doing the next steps for the slow foods that we’re making: smoking roasts, bacon, and speck that have been brining for a week, bottling potent cherry brandy for Christmas, filling jars with sauerkraut spiced with peppercorns, mustard seeds and caraway seeds.
And, of course, we’ll sit awhile, visiting contentedly over cuppas with a cookie or two on the side. xo
