by Krista | Dec 23, 2016 | Summer
Storm clouds are building on the horizon as lusciously cool winds blow through the gum trees. It’s been like this for the last few nights, and Bear and I have luxuriated in it, sitting on our back veranda watching animals and clouds, hoping for rain.
A couple of months ago I found myself in a pickle of my own making. In the glow of excitement at new opportunities, I said yes too much and ended up thoroughly, utterly snowed under, staggering through 17-18 hour works days, 6 days a week. I learned my lesson, and a few more along the way, and once my commitments were completed and I could go back to a normal work day, I implemented the boundaries that will keep me from getting in such a fix again.
I also learned that I have a vital need for a resting place. A spot to step away from everything and just be. Our back veranda became that place. Bear and I spent a couple of days moving furniture and transforming it into a little oasis of comfort and peace. It’s now our favourite space, and Bear knows that if he can’t find me around the house, I’ll be out there, curled up on the couch reading, writing in my journal, or just staring up at the trees.
Another thing I learned is the importance of creating things. I love making things. Really, really love it. Whether I’m doing wood-working with Bear or concocting things in the kitchen, other stresses are easier to bear as long as I have a creative outlet.
So last week I did something I’ve been wanting to do for months: Scandinavian-style pickling.
Growing up, whenever we had Danish food, salads were an essential part of the spread, mounded in glass bowls next to steaming platters of beautifully browned frikadellar (Danish meatballs) or hakkebøf (beef burgers swimming in a fried onion gravy). One of my favorites was agurkesalat, a cucumber salad with a sweet vinegar dressing.
These pickles are similar to that salad but instead of thinly sliced cucumber, I used thinly sliced beetroot (or carrots, parsnips, turnips, etc) quick pickled in a weak sweet and sour vinegar solution spiced with juniper, allspice, peppercorns, and whatever else I think to add such as fennel fronds, fresh dill, cloves, and mustard seeds.
I use a similar solution to make pickled fish, or rollmops, an essential part of the Danish Christmas I grew up with. We always had pickled herring, but they aren’t in season this time of year in Australia, so the fishmonger suggested I try barramundi and a particularly large type of sardine.
While the barramundi could be pickled fresh without any salting, the sardines required being buried in a hill of salt for 15 minutes or so to firm up the flesh. A good rinse afterwards makes it just right for pickling. Although cured fish can be pickled much quicker, I like using fresh fish. Once the fish is covered with the pickling brine and refrigerated, it’s ready for eating in 5-7 days.
It’s been so fun filling my fridge with delicious pickles. Although the hailstorms devastated most of my garden, the bay trees and root vegetables came through just fine, and it’s a great comfort to eat something I grew while I wait for the new seedlings to start producing.
Now it’s time to cozy in with Bear for ice cream and movies as we start this Yule weekend. 🙂
Quick Pickled Beetroot
2-3 chioggia beetroot, washed and trimmed
1 cup vinegar
1 cup water
1/2 cup white sugar
1 tsp salt
6 peppercorns
2 juniper berries
2 fresh bay leaves
2 allspice berries
1 clove
Directions:
- Using mandolin, thinly slice beetroots and pack loosely into clean, sterilized jars. Set aside.
- In medium saucepan combine remaining ingredients and bring to boil over medium high heat, stirring until sugar dissolves.
- Remove from heat and let cool. When cool, pour over beetroot to cover by 1/2 inch, gently tapping jar on counter to release air bubbles.
- Cover and refrigerate 2-3 days until ready to eat.
Pickled Fish
Ingredients:
2 fillets fresh oily fish (herring, sardines, barramundi)
salt
1 cup vinegar
1 cup water
1/2 cup white sugar
1 tsp salt
6 peppercorns
3 juniper berries
1/2 tsp mustard seeds
2 bay leaves
fresh dill or fennel fronds
Directions:
- Cut fish into 1-2 inch pieces (roll if you like) and pack loosely in clean, sterilized jars.
- In medium saucepan combine remaining ingredients and bring to boil over medium high heat, stirring until sugar dissolves.
- Remove from heat and let cool. When cool, pour over fish to cover by 1/2 inch, gently tapping jar on counter to release air bubbles.
- Seal and refrigerate for 1 week.
by Krista | Dec 5, 2016 | Summer
This holiday season I’ve been delighting in the things that other people are doing. I scroll through Facebook and Instagram every day grinning at family pictures and Christmas tree gathering and sledding and baking and the wearing of crazy Christmas sweaters. I flip through magazines swooning at gorgeous trees and mantles dripping with evergreens and berries, sigh contentedly at pictures of snow and icicles, and feel a rumble in the ol’ tummy as I gaze rapturously at piles of truffles, glistening roast turkeys, and pieces of pie mounded high with whipped cream.
This year I simply don’t have it in me to do much, and Bear doesn’t mind one bit, so we’re kicking back, keeping things oh-so-simple, and enjoying the hustle and bustle of those around us.
For those of you following on Facebook, you’ll know this month has been particularly ghastly on our farm with horrendous storms wiping out my gardens, shredding our orchards and vineyard, and killing numerous animals. It has been quite heart-rending to see so much hard work and beloved animals be wiped out in just a few minutes of hail, ferocious wind, and fierce rain.
My hubs, Bear, injured himself badly with a triple-torn hamstring, poor guy, and he’s under strict instructions not to do anything for at least six weeks.
Then I learned that the chronic health issues I’ve been struggling with are due to injuries sustained in the Cult that were not treated properly.
Ugh. It’s been rough. I had to take some time just to feel all the feelings that such a string of difficulties elicits. Grief, rage, frustration, loss, helplessness – all those things we feel when our lack of control in this world is highlighted so glaringly.
And then I bucked up and took heart. There’s not a thing we can do about what has happened, but there’s a lot we can do about what will happen. And that’s pretty marvellous.
Bit by bit I’m repairing the damage done in my gardens. Ruined plants are tossed over the fence to be feasted on by the surviving goats and sheep, stalwart plant survivors are nourished and protected to be given the best chance of coming back, and I picked up a few new seedlings to replace the ones I lost. Soon I’ll start shoveling the drifts of leaves and detritus the wind piled up on my veranda and against the fences, and, when Bear is better, we’ll put the sheds back together that were flattened.
Both Bear and I have fantastic specialists who are helping us. He’s doing so much better already and that makes us very happy. Mine will be a longer road, but that’s OK. It’s a good road, a road fraught with a lot of pain for a while with the tri-weekly treatments, but one that is already showing great promise. I can’t tell you how lovely it is to sleep through the night most nights, to only be in pain after the treatments and not all day, every day, and to see this dear, resilient body start functioning properly and take in nutrients and be resistant to illness. I’m tired but deeply grateful.
Although most of our holiday plans have gone by the wayside, we have done a few things to make it special.
Oma and I have our hams brining with bay, juniper, cloves, and lot of black peppercorns, and soon they’ll be ready for smoking.
Today I bottled (and tasted!) the strawberry liqueur we made last month and it is gorgeous!!! The colour alone makes me happy, but the fragrance and taste make it absolutely divine. It’s too hot for alcohol right now – we’re in a blistering heat wave – so I just add a spoonful of the liqueur to a tall glass of cold soda water and it is delicious and refreshing.
We started a new advent tradition this year. Instead of a calendar, we burn a special Danish advent candle while Bear reads me a chapter from a book. It’s such a lovely way to slow down and connect over a shared story by candlelight.
We don’t have a tree this year, so instead I’ve been hanging decorations from door handles and cupboard knobs and drawer pulls. When the wind whips through there’s quite the festive dance that goes on as every ornament bobs and twirls in the breeze.
The best part is spending time with people we love. We got to see some of our medieval friends last weekend and hope to see more over the next few weeks. We’ll be meeting up with other loves over cuppas and drinks, meals and little adventures here and there.
Yes, it’s a bit of a wonky Merry Christmas, but it’s a jolly good one nonetheless. xo
by Krista | Feb 26, 2016 | Summer
I like a lot of things about my Bear, but one of my favorites is his ability to turn mundane chores into memorable adventures. Today he transformed a car appointment into the loveliest day out, and it was just what I needed after an exhausting week.
He started by pulling into our favorite cafe in a nearby city and treating us to brunch. We had toasted sandwiches and shared a sumptuously creamy chicken, avocado, and sun-dried tomato salad. A surprise brunch just wouldn’t be right without coffees and dessert, so we indulged in our usual drinks – long black for him, flat white for me – and pieces of opera cake, heavenly layers of wafer thin almond sponge, coffee syrup, coffee butter cream, and a dark chocolate glaze. Bliss.
Then we hopped in the car and he took us for a drive.
It was a gorgeous day for a drive, blazing hot and sunny with brilliant blue skies, just the sort of day you want to enjoy from the comfort of an air-conditioned car.
We had a cuppa with our good friend and blacksmith at his country home in Wivenhoe Pocket – isn’t that the best name? – and talked about swords and motorcycles and plants and goats and home renovations, all the lovely mundane things that are interesting when shared with comfy friends.
Then we drove down to a spot by the Brisbane River that we’d noticed on our drive in.
It is such a beautiful spot with crystal clear water and lovely old trees along the riverbank.
Families fished along the shore while others kept cool under a shelter with a cold beer in hand. Teenagers too hot to care about going home for swimming togs, swam happily in their underwear, luxuriating in cool river water against their sunburned skin.
I wandered along the rocky shore and over the bridge, watching vivid green weeds bobbing serenely with the current, loving the twisted gum trees casting shadows over shallow pools.
Rivers have a beautiful mesmerizing quality that lulls and soothes as the water flows steadily, pouring over rocks and twirling around fence posts and tree branches. I find it utterly relaxing to watch the water, listening to it gurgle and sigh.
Back in the car Bear and I grinned at each other, basking in the novelty of sitting and just enjoying our surroundings.
There’s not much better than a hot, sunny afternoon by the water to restore weary spirits.
Then we headed for home, Bear taking every back road he could find to give us new surroundings to look at. We meandered past acres of lush farmland and stopped at vegetable stalls in search of Roma tomatoes. We drove through the mountains, along twisting, narrow lanes that led past towering rock cliffs and tidy little farms nestled next to open meadows and dry creek beds. Bear kept me entertained as he pointed out landmarks he remembered from his childhood: swimming holes, picnicking spots, and places his parents once took him on Sunday drives. It was marvelous.
Where is your favorite place to escape to when you need a little break? xo
by Krista | Feb 25, 2016 | Summer
I’m sitting on the back veranda this morning, cozy in a flannel shirt and blanket as I watch the sun come up over our farm. Our lamb, Kebab, hears me moving and bleats his disapproval that he’s not allowed to join me up here. I wouldn’t mind his cute little self hanging out with me, but if he thinks it’s OK now, he’ll think it’s OK when he’s a full grown ram and that, luvs, would be pure mayhem.
I can feel harbingers of Autumn on mornings like this, when mist snakes across the fields and sunlight shimmers through leaves starting to crisp and change color. I can see it in my gardens as flowers that wilt in the summer heat come into their full glory, standing tall and straight, their blossoms jeweled with dew drops. I see it in the orchards as our grapes plump and the apples take on rosy hues.
And I feel it in myself as I look forward to packing away sundresses and hauling out my stash of sweaters and scarves and cute boots that make me feel sassy. I’m pining for campfires and creamy Stilton soup and hot apple cider fragrant with star anise, cardamom, and cinnamon.
I’ve set out books on home preserving and cheese-making and ham-curing, ear-marking recipes that sound especially marvelous for making as cold Autumn winds blow. And stacked up other books that I want to read once I finally have my gardens harvested from Summer and planted for Winter.
We’ve got some hot Summer days to come, but it’s fun to dream in the meantime.
I’ve been going out to my gardens every morning at this time, reveling in magical light and the quietness of a world just starting to waken.
I’ve been pulling out spent tomato plants and harvesting chilies, mustard greens, Red Russian kale, rainbow chard, scarlet snake beans, and even asparagus. I’ve never know asparagus to grow as long as it does here, and I love it!
I shuffle through my seed collection over and over again, somehow finding treasures I missed the day before. I’ve dug 15 new small garden plots, bordering them with the rocks I pull out of the soil, and have been planting all sorts of marvelous things: watermelon radishes (they’re fuchsia inside and white outside!), coriander and dill, crimson carrots, purple topped turnips, yellow and striped beetroot, more kale, mustard greens, and Swiss chard, red cabbages and Brussels sprouts, leeks and garlic chives, and tomatoes, bell peppers, chilies, and cucumbers to winter over in my greenhouse.
Soon it will be butchering time on our farm as we fill our freezers with good meat for Autumn and Winter, and make room in our paddocks and pens for all the baby goats, ducks, and chickens born this year. We also hope to get turkeys within the next few weeks, a couple more lambs, two hives of bees, and, if we’re lucky, a pig or two.
Until then Bear and I will continue to work steadily building pens, mending fences, covering our orchards and vineyard, adding a new water tank, bottling the apple and plum wines we made this summer, and planning little adventures so we don’t get too tired and run down.
Now it’s time to put my hair up, find my hat, start up the tractor, and get to work. xo
by Krista | Feb 19, 2016 | Summer
When life tosses new responsibilities my way, I need to sit with them awhile, figure out how life looks and feels with them in it, and find a way to shuffle and shift to make room for them in a way that doesn’t leave me frazzled and overwhelmed.
So I’ve been hibernating a bit this week, slipping into the role of Observer Of My Own Life, and finding it rather fun. When you’re an observer, you aren’t a judge or a jury or an executioner. You’re simply there to watch and report the facts. No condemnation is allowed, no shame or lavish helpings of guilt, just observations.
At the end of each day I went through my discoveries and made adjustments and changes and improvements, then put them into practice the next day and observed some more.
It’s been so interesting.
I really do love learning about how I tick, what I’m good at, what I’m rotten at, what things I’m afraid of or intimidated by, what makes me happy or excited, what sets off triggers, what makes me feel instantly comfy. I like to do what I can to help myself be my best self so I can walk through this life in peace with a full heart and a settled mind.
Here are some of the things I’ve learned or been reminded of this week, things I can do to help me thrive and navigate life in a healthy way:
- Sleep. Such a simple thing but wow, it makes all the difference in the world for me. I went to bed an hour earlier and my 1:40 a.m. alarm was so much easier to rise to. It’s nice to not be a zombie.
- Exercise. My non-farm work involves copious amounts of sitting as I do my law firm work and my writing work. So hoofing it on the treadmill keeps my back and neck from getting stiff and keeps me limber and alert.
- Quiet. I thrive with moments of quiet throughout the day, especially first thing in the morning. Bear and I have renewed our practice of having breakfast together on the back veranda. Even if it’s chilly, we just pull blankets over our laps and do it anyway. It is bliss to be out there, watching the various animals wake up, listening to the wind in the trees, talking about whatever comes into our heads or just sitting quietly and companionably together.
- Reading. I need books. Need them. The stories and experiences and thoughts written within their pages never, ever fail to enliven my brain and renew my love of life.
- Writing. Setting aside time each morning to write in my journal, no matter how rambling or disjointed, helps me settle my whirring brain and work through any issues that may be niggling at me.
- Food. I grew up in a world where women were pressured to do everything from scratch. Everything. All. The. Time. Anything tinned or premade was looked down upon as not-good-enough, or a sign that this-woman-doesn’t-really-love-her-family. Such hogwash! I didn’t even realize I’d carried that expectation with me until recently, and when it hit me I thought, “Oh bugger!” Since then I’ve rebuilt my relationship with food and it has been glorious. Taking away the expectations and pressure has made food fun again. How lovely to know I can cook/eat whatever I want. Seriously. It’s like someone gave me Christmas presents all over again and I’m delighted. Food has become such fun. If I’ve got the energy, I love doing fiddly stuff with 18 ingredients and 12 steps, but if I don’t, it’s baked potatoes, or pasta with premade sauce, or even a big bowl of cold cereal. And the best part, it’s all OK. Premade, homemade, it doesn’t matter, we’re just so lucky to have food to eat and people to share it with.
- Nature. Being outside is pure happiness to me and when I let myself get stuck inside for too long, I suffer for it. So I’ve been carving out nature time every day, even if it’s just walking through my gardens or standing barefoot in the grass or picking weeds in the orchard. It contributes greatly to my well-being.
- Friends. I know we all go through lonely times when we move away or our loves move away, or things get busy or people get sick or money gets tight and we can’t afford drives or coffees or lunches. The last couple of months I’ve been much more intentional about friend time, whether it’s chatting on WhatsApp or meeting for tea and cookies on the veranda or stealing 30 minutes to sit down and talk on the phone. What a difference it makes to have those connections, to listen and be listened to, to share and laugh and cry and laugh some more. I’m going to keep doing this, maintaining the connections that make my life so rich.
How about you? Have you made changes in your life recently to help you thrive? I’d love to hear about them. xo
by Krista | Feb 16, 2016 | Summer
It’s lovely how sometimes healing sneaks up on you when you least expect it. Moments that previously would trigger panic attacks are now ones of genuine happiness, and you can’t help but smile knowing you are stronger, braver, healthier than you were before.
That happened to me this weekend when I welcomed people I barely know into my safe place, our farm.
When I first started healing from C-PTSD, the thought of having people in my safe place was cause for full blown panic attacks. Real Me wanted to have my friends and loved ones around me, but C-PTSD Me just couldn’t take it. It made me very sad and I felt much shame about it until I realized that C-PTSD is nothing to be ashamed of. It’s simply something that happened to me that I get to learn through and heal from. Removing shame makes healing so much easier.
As our guests arrived and we gathered around the table to eat and visit, it struck me that I wasn’t afraid anymore. I felt perfectly safe and, more than that, I felt happy, peaceful, delighted to have the chance to get to know such lovely people better. I was genuinely glad they were there, and I’m overjoyed about that.
Needless to say, such a revelation made a great day even better.
Bear and I had fun bustling about setting up tables and chairs under the gum trees. I added cheery tablecloths and mismatched dishes to brighten things up, and scattered cushions so everyone could have a comfy place to sit.
I caught myself smiling as we set up our picnic by the woodpile, celebrating that I’d also healed from the perfectionism that has long plagued me. It’s lovely to know now that connecting with good people and making memories is what’s important, not having a woodpile-free yard or chairs that don’t wobble or a farm that isn’t dotted with projects waiting to be completed.
I raided my gardens for flowers and herbs to decorate the tables, collecting elderflowers, geraniums, and vinca, petunias, yarrow, and mint. Flower shop perfection they are not, but they make me happy with their whimsical free spiritedness.
We set the tables, chilled the beer, started the bread, set out the wine, and then, phew, we were ready.
A chorus of barking from our four dogs meant our fabulous guests had arrived. Hailing from England, Australia, and New Zealand, they brought a delightful array of accents and stories with them, and we had a marvelous time.
There’s something pretty wonderful about sitting under the trees on a hot summer day, wind blowing through the trees, cold drinks in hand, having great conversation with interesting and kind people.
Our friends – for they are friends now – are so interesting, each with a wealth of adventures, experiences, and insights that make for excellent conversation. We heard tales of cycling around the world, life in the Kimberley’s, and hilarious encounters in New Zealand. We talked of books and food, photography and politics, philosophy and Aboriginal medicine. I loved it.
And we ate. How we ate!! All Bear and I provided was cold beer, homemade wine, and fresh bread, they brought the rest. Bless them.
We started with hummus and veggies and a scrumptious cheese platter bearing spiced gouda, a gorgeous blue cheese, brie, and camembert.
There were sausages with caramelized onions, fresh beetroot, steamed broccoli and cauliflower, buttered bread, chunky potato salad with red onion and gherkins, and sweet apple salad with cashews.
Accompanied by glasses of homemade plum wine, it was a truly delectable meal.
Then we had dessert, Sue’s famous Spotted Dick and adorable profiteroles filled with chocolate cream.
Bliss.
Of course, the company was the best part, and we chatted companionably around the table and as we explored the farm, perched on fallen logs, or nestled into comfy chairs on the veranda. Even two days later my mind is still mulling over things we discussed. It was good.
The afternoon flew by and soon it was time for them to head for home. We hugged good-bye, sun-kissed, wind-blown, and happy, hoping that our next visit isn’t too far in the distant future.
Where is your favorite place to picnic? xo
