by Krista | Sep 4, 2014 | Winter
“In the silence,
I could hear the distinct sound of goats maa-ing in the barn.
Lying there listening to them made me smile, too.
I’d always loved goats – every one of them different from every other one,
and all of them goofy and playful.”
Steve Watkins
After a two-day glimpse of Spring, Winter returned with frosty mornings and icy winds. Brrr. Winter’s arrival heralded another arrival: this sweet little chap who was born yesterday. He is dark brown with one white foot and has a powerful set of lungs. I can hear him bleating above the entire herd. We are smitten with him.
Bear spotted him after we returned home from a day out running errands and hurried up to the house to tell me. I quickly bundled up in Bear’s flannels and trackies and spent a happy 30 minutes in the goat pen, cuddling the new baby and snapping pictures of the other littles whose curiosity had them cantering over for a visit.
Their little faces delight me no end. Especially this fellow with one ear up and one ear down, his nose still wrinkled like a pug dog because he hasn’t grown into it yet.
This girl is one of my favorites. She is so tiny and has such a dainty face yet she’s the bravest of the bunch, always coming right up to me to inspect my wellies and peer into my camera.
It was a gorgeous afternoon: sunshine, cute little kids, warm spots out of the wind. All too soon it was time to head up to the plum orchard to work on fences with Bear.
We worked until after dark, digging post holes, fitting posts, stringing wire, hanging fencing. Luna trotted along with us, happily gnawing on a huge kangaroo bone she found somewhere. It was as big as her! We were cold and hungry by the time we finished, but so pleased to get the first phase done. We walked back to the house and snuggled in for roast chicken dinner and an early night. It was a good day.
Do you have any projects you’re tackling at your house? xo
by Krista | Sep 1, 2014 | Winter
Bear and I were running errands in town when our friend Oma rang, letting us know that she had some chicken eggs ready for our incubator.
I love Oma. And Opa. They are the parents of my dear friend Ann, and the cutest Hungarian grandparents you ever did see. They’ve embraced us into their family and have done so much to make me feel loved and welcome in this new country of mine.
Their story is amazing, and someday I hope to share it with you. Survivors of the Hungarian Revolution, they both ended up in Australia where they met each other in a refugee camp, got married, and started a new life in a new country.
They are feisty and hilarious and wise. Full of the common sense wisdom that helps you survive wars and economic upheaval. Any time I have a question about gardening, animal husbandry, cooking, preserving, you name it, I can turn to Oma and Opa and know they’ll always steer me in the right direction.
They’re in their 80’s now but are still planting trees and butchering gigantic pigs and making their own prosciutto, hams, sausages, cheese, bread, and preserves. They raise animals and plant gardens and spoil their grandkids all while building a new house after theirs burned to the ground. They are incredibly generous. I don’t think I’ve ever left their house without a load of homemade preserves, bottles of Oma’s eye-popping home brew, seeds, seedlings, trees, or books.
And they give really good hugs. I love them.
So when Oma said she wanted us to stop by, we happily wrapped up our errands and headed over under a dark and stormy sky.
I like visiting their farm with its stunning views and flurry of projects. Especially on wild days like this one when we can watch storms rolling in from two directions.
I might find Oma cooing over her seedlings, speaking to them with a tenderness and affection usually reserved for babies, or plucking feathers from ducks destined for the roasting pan. Opa is often found in the frame of the new house, marking out plans and discussing steps with the builders. But whenever we show up, regardless of what they’re doing, they always stop for a cuppa and a chat.
We visited about the weather and the need for rain, swapped tales of our gardening endeavors and checked out the latest acquisitions for the house that Oma found at local auctions. We discussed the news and admired the massive hanks of seasoned prosciutto curing on the shelves Bear built for them a few months ago.
While Opa made coffee, we wandered over to the chicken run, stopping to admire flowering boughs and plump lemons ready for picking. Oma showed us her incubator full of eggs and picked out ten new ones for us. Carefully balancing my precious load, I hustled up to put the eggs in the car before joining the others for a cuppa.
We feasted on homemade cake with two layers of icing and chewy coconut oat bars and visited some more as the skies grew ever darker. Suddenly the clouds broke up and the first huge drops fell. We gulped down the last of our coffee, hugged and waved farewell, and made a mad dash to the car just as the rain began to fall in sheets.
We drove home in a humdinger of a rain storm, beaming happily as we watched the sun-burned landscape get thoroughly soaked. It was still raining when we got home, steady and heavy, just what we needed to break the hold of the drought. It was a good day.
Who do you like to visit and share a cuppa with? xo
by Krista | Aug 28, 2014 | Winter
“The light that came through the picture window was daylight,
real golden late-afternoon daylight,
not a white mist light.
The sky was a robin’s-egg blue,
and Coraline could see trees and, beyond the trees,
green hills, which faded on the horizon into purples and grays.
The sky had never seemed so sky,
the world had never seemed so world …
Nothing, she thought, had ever been so interesting.”
Neil Gaiman
I love late afternoons on our farm. The time when animals are settling down to sleep, I can close my computer and stop writing for the day, and I get to stroll around the property to look at Bear’s projects, check on the gardens, or go for a walk in the fields.
I love these end of the day walks, Luna bounding ahead of me then racing back to make sure I’m still coming.
I like the light in the grasses, soft and gentle, the light in the trees, rich and gold, the light in the sky, magical and wondrous.
This week I got to watch a storm roll in, sheets of rain illumined by the setting sun, making it look like the sky was raining golden fire instead of water.
It does my heart good to look over the fields to our farmyard. Much of it is lost in shadow, but there’s just enough light to pick out the rain water tanks, the hay shed, and our little house. It’s lovely to see a place where someone is waiting to welcome me back. A place where I belong.
What is your favorite time of day at your house? xo
by Krista | Aug 24, 2014 | Winter
“What a strange machine man is!
You fill him with bread, wine, fish, and radishes,
and out comes sighs, laughter, and dreams.”
Nikos Kazantzakis
Tomorrow morning I begin a Writing Hibernation, tucked away in my office as I head into the home stretch of finishing the first draft of my history book. Last minute submissions and historical finds are flooding in and first thing tomorrow morning I will be found at my desk, sorting photos and family stories and reminiscences, getting everything organized so I can pull it together into a cohesive and (hopefully!) entertaining narrative. I’m excited. The end is in sight!
In preparation for days of reading and writing, I spent most of this weekend outside doing anything but sitting on my backside at my computer. It’s been brilliant.
Bear and I spent Saturday building an apple orchard in the pouring rain. By the end of the day we were sopping wet, covered in mud, aching all over, and tired beyond belief. But oh so happy. It’s nearly done!!! This week the trees go in and soon our ducks will have an apple orchard pen all to themselves and we will be one step closer to apple nirvana in Autumn.
It will be a surprise orchard, for all the trees were given to us at rock bottom prices by a local nursery that had lost all the tags to their remaining apple trees. We know we have one Granny Smith and something marvelous called Snow Apples, but other than that, we have no clue what sort of apples will arrive when Fall comes around. That pleases me no end.
I’ve also been snatching moments for my gardens whenever I can, having realized with a jolt that my writing marathon coincided with the arrival of Spring and all the necessary planting that entails. So in between other projects and chores I dig a bit, plant a few seeds, water a patch or two, and haul straw for mulching. This weekend I planted purple carrots, Lebanese cucumbers, purple garlic, 4 kinds of basil, twelve types of tomatoes, purple artichokes (I’m noticing a purple theme here), strawberry pinto beans, black beans, Jack beans, and nasturtiums. Phew!
I’ve also been picking radishes. And more radishes. Long, gorgeous scarlet ones and chubby white ones with lavender tops.
I have not always been a radish fan. Memories of biting into raw ones that set my tongue burning were enough to turn me against them for quite awhile.
Then I had them roasted. Oh. My.
I’ve been a huge fan ever since.
Roasting banishes that biting heat and replaces it with seductive sweetness with just a hint of a kick.
Roasting them with thyme adds deeper pleasure by providing a salty crunch to the smooth, sweet, radish flavor.
Normally I roast the leaves with the radishes – they become delectably crispy and salty and are sheer bliss – but this time I saved them for a unique twist on pesto.
My blogging friend Jeanne inspired this plan, and after some experimentation, I arrived at a concoction both Bear and I love. I added more garlic and Parmesan than I do in a traditional basil pesto, since the earthiness of the radish leaves can handle strong flavors. It resulted in a peppery pesto that we will use as a base for savory tart filling, a zingy dressing for potato salad, and a spread for sandwiches.
Later this week I will use up the rest of the radishes in a pickle. Mmm. Can’t wait!
Do you like radishes? What is your favorite vegetable? xo
Roasted Radishes with Thyme
Ingredients:
12 radishes, washed, topped, and halved lengthwise
2-3 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp fresh thyme
sea salt to taste
Directions:
- Preheat oven to 400 F (220 C).
- In medium bowl, toss together all ingredients until radishes are evenly coated.
- Spread radishes evenly onto baking sheet topped with baking paper.
- Roast 20-30 minutes until radishes are soft and begin to brown.
- Serve warm or cold.
Radish Green Pesto
Ingredients:
1 cup olive oil
4-6 cloves garlic
1/2 tsp sea salt
1/3 cup pine nuts
6 cups fresh radish greens, washed, dried, and coarsely chopped (stems removed)
1 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
Directions:
- In food processor blend together oil, garlic, salt, and pine nuts to form rough paste.
- Add radish greens and pulse until rough paste forms.
- Add Parmesan cheese and pulse just until mixed. (If you prefer a smoother paste, puree longer)
- Use immediately or freeze until ready to use.
by Krista | Aug 22, 2014 | Winter
It is cloudy and cool this morning, dark and quiet, and I’m smiling because we had a bit more rain in the night. The world smells good and fresh and alive. Bear is pottering in the kitchen making us toasted egg rolls for brekky, and we are excited because Spring is nearly here.
Seed packets are scattered all over the dining room table, waiting for me to finish up writing assignments and decide what to put in the ground first: rosellas, sandpaper figs, or dragonfruit, ground hog radish, mouse melons, or strawberry beans, perhaps spiky cucumbers or curley dock. Gardening is my relaxation, the thing that grounds me after hours spent over a keyboard, and I’m looking forward to this weekend when I can dig in the dirt and plant all sorts of good things.
Our Kalahari Red goats are doing beautifully in spite of the drought and we’re thankful. Five of our young ones went to a new home last week and they’re now happy as clams, settled right in and growing like weeds.
All the birds are doing well too. The chickens LOVE their new palace Bear built them. It looks more like a beautiful art installation than a chook pen. Bear may be a farmer now, but you can’t take the artist out of him. The ducks have settled nicely into their new pen as well, luxuriating in daily baths in their new large water trough. And the geese have gone broody! I’m so excited to see goslings toddling about in a month or so.
This week we finally got to start eating from our gardens and it’s been marvelous! Snow peas, Napa cabbage, and asparagus, radishes, kale, and silverbeet, and yesterday I spotted the first of our Purple-podded Dutch peas. I can’t wait to shell bowls of those beauties.
This weekend we’re fencing in two orchards and planting apples, plums, assorted citrus, hazelnuts, grape vines, and chestnuts. When they’re all done we’ll move in families of ducks and geese to keep the grass and bugs in check. Bit by bit things are coming together and it feels wonderful.
What projects are you working on around your house? xo
by Krista | Aug 18, 2014 | Winter
“Colors shone with exceptional clarity in the rain.
The ground was a deep black,
the pine branches a brilliant green,
the people wrapped in yellow looking like special spirits that were allowed to wander over the earth on rainy mornings only.”
Haruki Murakami
I don’t know of anything more luscious than rain after a drought.
We’ve had a terrible drought here in Southern Queensland. The normally green hills and valleys of our farmyard have withered and burnt away to bare dirt and brittle, brown grass. Farmers are having to sell off or give away their stock because there’s no water or feed for them. Some have no choice but to kill them. Fields are barren and hay prices have sky-rocketed. Just looking outside makes me thirsty, and I’ve had to go to my gardens every day to remind myself what green looks like. It’s a difficult time for those living off the land.
But this weekend it rained. Beautiful, gentle, exquisitely wet rain. I couldn’t bear to turn on music or movies for I just wanted to listen to it falling on our tin roof, a steady dance reminding me that all was not lost. That maybe, just maybe, we will have a reprieve.
And of course I had to walk in it.
It’s still winter so I bundled up to keep warm as the rain fell, drenching my hair and glossing my rubber boots. I headed straight for the gardens to see what they looked like in the rain.
It seemed like everything had grown an inch or two since the rain arrived. The bok choy had turned from wilted to perky, its leaves tall and strong, its heart a collection of rain drops and new buds.
I let one of my bok choy go to seed so I could see what it looked like. This, if you’ve never seen it, is the flower of the bok choy. Isn’t it cheerful?
The radishes are flourishing, almost ready to be pulled out and scrubbed for lunch. The snow peas are producing at last and Bear and I stood in the shelter of the shed to munch on the first few pods washed clean by the rain.
I love these gorgeous Dutch pea vines with their beautiful purple blossoms. I can’t wait to see the peas themselves, with their amethyst colored pods filled with bright green peas.
We still have a few oranges on our trees and I hope to pick them this week and juice them for breakfast.
The asparagus is shooting up almost before my very eyes. I pick it in late afternoon, eating it where I stand, and by the next day there are 4-5 more spears ready to eat. Marvelous.
A rainy weekend calls for celebratory comfort food. Bear was craving something coffee-flavored, so I experimented and came up with these Coffee Chocolate Cream Scones. We had them fresh out of the oven with the dark chocolate chunks still melting and gooeey, and later cooled, spread with thick layers of salted butter. Either way they were moist, tender, and delicious.
What is your favorite comfort food on a rainy day?
Coffee Chocolate Cream Scones
makes 8 scones
Ingredients:
2 cups plain white flour
1/4 cup white sugar
3 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup dark chocolate, cut in pieces
1 1/4 cups coconut cream (or heavy cream)
2-3 Tbsp instant coffee granules
1-2 Tbsp milk (for brushing)
1 Tbsp raw sugar (for sprinkling)
Directions:
- Preheat oven to 425 F (250 C)
- Whisk together flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and chocolate.
- In small bowl stir together coconut cream and coffee granules until granules dissolve and cream is soft brown.
- Add coconut cream to flour mixture and stir gently until well-incorporated.
- Knead gently in the bowl, just until mixture holds together.
- Turn out onto floured surface and shape into circle 1-inch thick.
- Cut into 8 wedges and place on baking paper lined baking sheet.
- Brush tops with milk and sprinkle with raw sugar.
- Bake 15-20 minutes until tops are browned and sides not doughy.
- Serve warm or cold with butter.
Bear spotted him after we returned home from a day out running errands and hurried up to the house to tell me. I quickly bundled up in Bear’s flannels and trackies and spent a happy 30 minutes in the goat pen, cuddling the new baby and snapping pictures of the other littles whose curiosity had them cantering over for a visit.
This girl is one of my favorites. She is so tiny and has such a dainty face yet she’s the bravest of the bunch, always coming right up to me to inspect my wellies and peer into my camera.
It was a gorgeous afternoon: sunshine, cute little kids, warm spots out of the wind. All too soon it was time to head up to the plum orchard to work on fences with Bear.
We worked until after dark, digging post holes, fitting posts, stringing wire, hanging fencing. Luna trotted along with us, happily gnawing on a huge kangaroo bone she found somewhere. It was as big as her! We were cold and hungry by the time we finished, but so pleased to get the first phase done. We walked back to the house and snuggled in for roast chicken dinner and an early night. It was a good day.
