by Krista | Dec 28, 2018 | Summer
I gave a lot of thought to what I wanted to experience over the holidays this year, and narrowed things down to three goals:
- maintain my childlike spirit
- be true to my heart
- heighten my vitality
I’ve never done this before, never laid out what I really wanted my holidays to be like for me, but I want to do this every year now, for it’s been the loveliest holiday I’ve ever had. Bear and I have looked at each other so many times over this break and grinned in sheer happiness and peace because we’d built a holiday around what we really needed and wanted.
We met up with people we love and who love us back, and visited happily over Christmas cookies in the kitchen and cold drinks at the beach.
We had together time, going to op shops and watching movies, chatting over cuppas on the veranda and on long drives through the mountains.
We had alone time, reading books and writing poetry, painting pictures and polishing knives, doing whatever popped into our heads that sounded like something we would enjoy.
I loved it. So much.
We have 4 1/4 days of holiday left, and it’s so great to wake up every morning and ask excitedly, “So, what are you going to do today?
Today I wanted to do sketching and watercolouring, make Caesar salad, and gather herbs from my garden to make smudge sticks for the new year.
I filled my basket with sage and pineapple sage, flowering oregano, yarrow, lemon thyme, and rosemary. They smelled so good still warm from the morning sun.
I found a shady spot on the veranda, and trimmed each bundle to size with my trusty knife before binding them tightly with twine into sturdy batons of herbal goodness.
What are smudge sticks?
Smudge sticks are simply bundles of fresh herbs tied tightly together and dried thoroughly. They can then be lit with a match and the smoke allowed to fill an enclosed space such as a bedroom, office, or entire home. In ancient times it was believed that the smoke from burning medicinal herbs such as sage, rosemary, and thyme would either remove evil spirits from a space or connect with good spirits to provide balance and harmony to the inhabitants.
Does smudging work?
Well, I don’t know about ousting evil spirits, but a scientific paper published in the Journal of Ethnopharmacology revealed that studies have found that burning medicinal herbs in an enclosed space eliminated airborne bacteria by 94%. Tests conducted a day later found the space still disinfected, and a month later most of the bacteria was still gone.
I think that’s amazing.
I’ll be burning my smudge sticks in the new year, not just to cleanse the air in our home, but also because I love the physical act of burning out the harmful and welcoming in the good.
I’ve found that often new goodness doesn’t have room to fit into our lives because we haven’t gotten rid of the bad and useless. I’m working steadily to remove all that no longer serves my goals in life so that I have abundant room for what I cherish and value. It’s a wonderful way to prepare for this new year and all it holds. xo
How to Make Smudge Sticks
Supplies:
Fresh herbs: sage, rosemary, thyme, oregano, yarrow, lavender, etc
Cotton string or twine
Sharp knife or scissors
Directions:
- Divide your herbs into even piles with leaves and flowers pointing up, and stems pointing down. Adjust them to make an even thickness down the length of the stick. (Thin sticks will dry quickly and burn quickly, thick ones with take a longer time to dry and burn.)
- Grasp one pile by the stems like you would a bouquet, wrap the twine around once or twice and tie a knot to secure it.
- Wrap the twine tightly along the length of the stick, double back once you reach the top. When you reach the bottom, tie it tightly in a knot.
- Trip the ends of the stems with your knife or scissors.
- Repeat steps until all smudge sticks are made. Set in a shady, dry place for 2-3 weeks until dried through. Store in airtight container until ready to use.
- When ready to use, close all doors and windows in the room/building you wish to smudge. Light the tip of the smudge stick and set it in a shallow, heatproof container, letting the smoke fill the room. Do not leave unattended. You can also carry it and wave it gently through the space, being careful to catch any ashes or embers that fall.
by Krista | Mar 17, 2018 | Summer
I am home safe and sound from Tasmania, my head and heart full of stories and experiences to share with you in the months to come. But first I need to finish documenting my heart-strengthening adventures solo camping and solo hiking in the Bunya Mountains.
Thanks to the valiant Old Ladies of Courage who provide beacons of fearlessness for me, my remaining days were ones of peace.
Every morning I would wake well before sunrise, thoroughly rested after sleeping on my teetering pile of mattresses in the cool mountain air. Fortified by hot coffee and fried potatoes and sausage, I spent hours each day hiking the trails in and around Bunya Mountains National Park.
I loved it. All of it. The broad trails spongy from thick layers of fallen leaves, wallabies and bush turkeys scavenging for food in the undergrowth, and, most of all, the trees.
The trees are different here. Ancient. Their roots cavorting and twisting in delightfully eerie patterns that make them seem as if they might go ambling through the forest at night once all the humans are tucked away out of sight.
They make me feel safe and secure, for they’ve stood so long, seen so much, yet just keep standing and growing.
They also comfort me, for they remind me that even though they’re surrounded by other plants and trees, they still have to do their own growing. They have to push up through the rainforest canopy to find life-giving light. They have to send their roots out to nourish themselves. And when they get injured by storms or humans, they have to heal themselves and keep on going, scarred but magnificent.
They remind me that in life we are alone, but not alone. We may be surrounded by life and light, close to others who support, cheer, and encourage us, but we still have to grow and strengthen and heal alone. We have to do the work of thriving, of claiming a spot for ourselves and searching for light and nourishment until we find it.
But we’re luckier than the trees. If we can’t thrive in the spot where we’re planted, if we are withering from abuse, neglect, and lack of nutrients for body and soul, we get to pull ourselves up by the roots and plant ourselves somewhere else. It is hard, and scary as hell, but we can do it.
It did my heart good to see lush life in the rainforest, to see that even with only a few hours of sunlight each day, these plants are verdant and healthy and strong. That is comfort to me. None of us live in everlasting sunlight. We all experience darkness, sometimes horrible darkness that seems to last forever, but there is light, and if we are brave and look hard, we can find enough to keep us going until the darkness lifts.
I’m so thankful for the light-bringers in this world. Those who speak love and comfort and truth, those who say nothing but give amazing hugs, those precious few who reach into our darkness with flickering candles and say, “This way, darling. You’re almost there.”
We need each other. Sometimes we need the light, and sometimes we get to be the light, and sometimes we’re so tired we just sit like fungus on an old log and look odd but interesting.
Today I’m grateful for life, for as long as we’re alive, there’s always hope.
There’s the hope of strong minds and healthy bodies and true friendship and real love and safe homes and enough money and even hope for simple, good things that do nothing but bring us joy.
Today those things include cuddling our new Rottweiler puppy, Fezzik, making medieval shields with Bear for a local school, and getting ready for the arrival of lovely medieval friends tomorrow. I’m sure looking forward to big hugs, good talks, and cooking sausages over the campfire.
What little things are bringing you joy today? xo
by Krista | Mar 4, 2018 | Summer
There’s something both deeply comforting and deeply uncomfortable about being alone for an extended period of time.
It’s uncomfortable because there are no distractions. No one else’s needs or wishes making us feel needed and important. No one else’s conversation or questions to fill the void. There is no nothing to keep us from the things that are in our own hearts and minds.
The comfort doesn’t come until you’ve gone through the discomfort.
And that’s why taking time to be alone is so important to me.
I loved my solo camping trip to the Bunya Mountains. I liked learning how to set up my tent by myself and make sure it didn’t get blown away in the gales that howled through the valley. I liked learning how to work the gas bottle stove, set up my little kitchen area, and make the tent nice and snug with a comfy chair, rug on the floor, and too many mattresses.
And then, when the work was done, I liked sitting quietly with the discomfort of alone-ness.
In such moments, I find it helpful to have a notebook for writing and sketchpad for drawing. I’ve found that when I’m truly alone, truly quiet, a lot of stuff is going to start coming up. And I can stuff it right back down to where it came from, or I can set it free through writing or drawing.
I did a lot of both on that trip. Especially in the quiet of early morning when the rest of the camp site was sound asleep, and it was just me, grazing wallabies, and heavy mist snaking down from the mountains.
I brewed my coffee, wrapped myself in my most cheerful pashmina, and let whatever needed to be addressed, express itself through rambling sentences and colorful sketches.
I wrote and drew my way through friendships and marriage, family and work, fear and finances, courage and hope, gardens and medieval stuff, insecurities and triumphs, secret wishes and fledgling dreams. They all tumbled out, bringing with them healing and understanding and clarity and comfort.
Soon the sun would rise, burning off the mist, illuminating the trees, and setting the wallabies fur aglow.
There’s something so wonderful about morning light. It brings such a clean, fresh hope to the day.
With those first rays, I tucked my notebooks away, made breakfast while baby wallabies came up to watch, then sat back to eat while the bush turkeys and wallabies provided my mealtime entertainment.
After a hearty breakfast, I donned my hiking gear, loaded my backpack, and headed deep into the rainforest for some quality alone time in nature.
I’ll tell you more about that next time.
What do you like to do with your precious alone time? xo
by Krista | Feb 27, 2018 | Summer
“You gain strength, courage and confidence
by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face.
You are able to say to yourself,
‘I have lived through this horror.
I can take the next thing that comes along.’
You must do the thing you think you cannot do.”
Eleanor Roosevelt
I love these words so much. “…look fear in the face.” They give me focus, help me know what to do when the fear comes. Instead of hiding or pretending, I can calmly stop, look it in the face, let the feelings surge, and when they settle, decide what to do next.
My friend Jane, from creating-sparks, describes this moment as, “The deep assurance that no matter what happens, we (our souls, our inner person) are OK, we will be OK.”
Rooted in that deep assurance, we can then move past fear, and do the hard things and the good things and the scary things and the wonderful things.
I thought through fear a lot on my solo camping trip this month. I looked it in the face as I hiked through the woods, identified where it was coming from, and found the truth I needed to replace that fear with love.
I’ve found those looking-fear-in-the-face moments are not solitary events. For me, they’re daily, often small moments, that can grow mighty big mighty fast if I don’t stop and look.
Fear of financial difficulty, fear of loneliness, fear of looking foolish, fear of failing, fear of not understanding, fear of being misunderstood, fear of not being loved. All those little fears that can unsettle us if we don’t take a moment to look them in the face, sit quietly with them until they lose their power, and then start walking again.
It made me smile to think about how hiking is simply choosing to take one more step. One more step around this boulder, over this log, across this stream, and before long I’m discovering beautiful places and experiences that I never would have without taking one more step.
I loved exploring Crows Nest National Park. Even though it’s less than a couple of hours from the farm, I’d never been there before, and had no idea what to expect.
The early parts of the trail weren’t too exciting, just broad, dusty trails meandering through airy forest, with lots of tiny wildflowers underfoot, and wee finches flitting from bush to bush.
Then I took a side track, and discovered a beautiful area of serene pools and sandy banks, tumbling boulders and thickly forested hills.
It was so peaceful there, only the gentlest trickling of water and the wind sighing through the trees.
The sun was hot, warming the vegetation so I was surrounded by smells of pine and eucalyptus and unknown foliage.
I loved clambering along the banks, always keeping a weather eye open for snakes, basking in the soul-nourishing stillness and sultry summer heat.
I walked slowly, stopping to take pictures of the fingernail size flowers underfoot in brilliant blues, purples, and oranges.
I lingered as long as I could, soaking up beauty and stillness, but at last the lengthening shadows reminded me that there were more steps to take, a mountain to climb, a campsite to set up. So I trekked back to my car, stopped to chat with one of the Old Ladies of Courage, and headed for the Bunya Mountains.
I was ready for my next step.
by Krista | Jan 30, 2018 | Summer
Bear and I are celebrating this week. Cheering and smiling because I haven’t had nightmares in nearly two months, and I haven’t had to take pain killers since before Christmas.
They may seem like very small things to some, but to us, they are huge, and most worthy of celebrating.
Healing work is lifelong work. I’ll be learning and growing and messing up and trying again and figuring things out and finding peace and facing obstacles and happy dancing for the rest of my life. I’ve learned that it’s vital for me to celebrate milestones along the way, to cheer inwardly or outwardly when old habits and fears lose their grip, and new practices and courage take their place.
I love going to sleep now. There’s no fear, no anxiety, and dreamland is a peaceful and happy place full of weird and wonderful dreams, but no scary, traumatic ones. What a gift.
I’m so thankful for the wise, healing women who have helped me get to this place: Bernie, Lizzie, and Jane. They are such treasures, luminous in their kindness and wisdom and ability to guide their clients to the tools that enable healing. I am forever grateful for them and the time they’ve invested in my life. XO
Last week was crazy busy with 26 articles due, pigs to be butchered, and drought-parched gardens to keep alive. It’s all good work, but Whoa Nelly, I haven’t been so glad to see Friday night in a long time.
We had a lusciously relaxing weekend of sleeping in, naps, early nights, reading good books, creating art, and visiting with friends under the shade of our sprawling gum trees. By the time Sunday rolled around I was feeling almost human again, and got that familiar urge to make things. So I did.
Making things brings me so much pleasure. I find it thoroughly relaxing and inspiring, and just thinking about a new project, no matter how small, gives me a little thrill of excitement.
This week I made a big pot of French-ish Onion Soup. There’s something soothing about slow-cooking onions until they’re meltingly soft and caramelized, then simmering them with beef stock, a splash of Worcestershire sauce, a good whack of black pepper. Poured over grated Jarlsberg, it makes a thoroughly satisfying meal on a breezy summer evening.
I made a new batch of apple cider vinegar, loving the scent of freshly chopped apples, and a small batch of cinnamon toothpaste. It is soothing to sore gums and healing to the mouth, and, in spite of its chocolate brown color, actually makes teeth nice and bright.
I also made a basil lemon balm infusion. Sweetened with honey and poured over ice, it is a calming and refreshing drink during the hottest part of the day.
I made a Fresh Fig Clafouti with some of the lovely figs we picked last week, and it was divine. In winter it’s nice served hot, but in summer I serve it cold in thick wedges, and it is wonderfully cooling and delicious.
Next time I’ll tell you all about our latest butchering project, and how to make homemade ham, pancetta, bacon, and Spanish dried ham. Mmm. 🙂
Now I need to head outside and water my gardens, plant the gorgeous celery my friend Shirley grew for me, and get some beetroot seeds in so we have a good crop ready for Autumn.
What little projects bring you joy? xo
Cinnamon Toothpaste (from The Home Apothecary)
1 Tbsp baking soda
1 tsp ground cinnamon
Distilled water
Directions:
- Stir together baking soda and cinnamon, add enough water to make paste. Use as toothpaste.
Basil Lemon Balm Infusion
1 bunch fresh basil leaves
1 bunch fresh lemon balm leaves
just boiled water
honey to taste
- Place herbs in heatproof container. Pour enough just-boiled water to cover by 1 inch. Leave to steep 5-10 minutes.
- Remove herbs, sweeten with honey, and serve warm or over ice.
by Krista | Jan 16, 2018 | Summer
The geese are splashing about in the water trough, splattering my kitchen window and having a marvelous time. Down in the shed I hear the whirring of the buffing machine as Bear works on my helmet, modifying it to be a medieval Kipchak one. It’s looking so good and I can’t wait to wear it.
It’s wonderfully fresh and cool this morning, with good, strong breezes that send our windmill whirling, filling up our tanks so we have plenty of water for animals, gardens, and orchards. We just finished breaky – toasted triple cream brie and strawberry jam sandwiches – and finally got to taste-test the cherry port and peach sherry brews we made last week. They are delicious!! Fruity and fragrant but not too sweet. We strained and bottled them all and now have lusciously boozy fruit to spoon over vanilla ice cream in the days to come.
Last week was a rough one as I dealt with viral conjunctivitis in both eyes, and a venomous insect bite that made my right foot swollen, fiery, and painful. There’s nothing like not being able to see or walk properly to slow life down and give me treasured time to rest. So I did. Naps and snoozes, audio books and time to simply lay there and think. It was just what I needed to help me refocus for 2018, and clarify what I want to do and learn and experience this year. As my eyes cleared up, I got back to my writing and my art, jotting down lists and ideas, sketching out plans for gardens and projects. Sometimes I think that half the fun of things is the planning and anticipation.
By the weekend I was feeling almost human again, so Bear and I got in the car and drove to visit our friends, Doug and Avis, and pick up a load of hay. I swap hay for weeding, which is such a great trade. I get hay to mulch our gardens and orchards, and I get to spend hours chatting with Avis while we yank weeds and chop unruly grasses that try to sneak in.
Doug and Avis never let us go home empty handed, and this time was no different. They gave us a whole box of pickling onions, massive bulbs of Russian garlic, beetroots, cucumbers, and zucchini. Avis and I scoured the tangle of bean vines and emerged with a bucket of tender green beans. Such wonderful gifts.
My favourite part was heading into their fig orchard and picking one perfectly ripe fig after another. They’re so beautiful and fragrant and I’m excited to make Chia Seed Fig Jam, Roasted Figs with Mascarpone, and Fig Frangipane Tart. Mmm, mmm.
Sunday we got to drive over the mountains and spend the day at the Brisbane River with a bunch of our Viking friends. It was a hot but gorgeous day and we had such a great time swapping stories, reminiscing, and sharing plans for the new medieval season. The food was amazing, roasted sausages and all sorts of delicious cold salads, and it was such a great way to kick off the 2018 medieval season.
On the way home we stopped at a roadside market having a super deal on gorgeous cherries and super sweet watermelon. We stocked up and have been treasuring every delicious bite.
Yesterday was my day off, and it arrived with a break in the heatwave that’s been knocking us flat. It was sheer bliss to wake up to cold air blowing in the windows, and I celebrated with a mug of hot chocolate while I kept warm under a quilt.
I spent some very happy hours in the gardens, pulling out old plants and giving the others a good soaking. I found all sorts of self-seeded plants – borage and feverfew, tomatoes and hollyhocks – and I’m excited to see them flourish.
Today is a Use Up All The Harvest day, grating zucchini and freezing it to add to soups in Autumn, thinly slicing cucumbers for Scandinavian-style pickles, roasting beetroot and sweet potatoes, frying up leeks and freezing them to add to eggs, fried potatoes, and salads.
I’m so thankful for all this bounty, such good things to nourish and fortify us for the work we have to do.
What are your favourite summer fruits and vegetables? xo
