by Krista | Oct 3, 2017 | Spring
It’s been a long few months of drought here in Queensland. Every day we looked up into clear blue skies and wondered when the rains would come, hoping it would be soon.
The storm clouds came this week, heavy and dark, and dropped gentle, steady rain upon us. Water soaked into the cracked earth, softening grass browned and crisped by the sun, cleaning the air and washing dust from every surface.
It brought life back to our little world, and hope to my heart. Watching the rain fall reminded me that no matter how desolate the situations we find ourselves in, relief and life will return one day. We have no control over when it will return, but we can make the waiting easier by caring for our dear selves, connecting to those amazing people who love us, and finding something good each day to keep us going.
I spent much of Sunday on the back veranda, watching the rain fall while I read books, wrote in my journal, and took a nap. I’ve been reading “The Gifts of Imperfection” by Brené Brown again. It’s one of those books I like to read regularly to realign myself with wholehearted living, a life of courage, compassion, and connection.
This read-through showed me how I’d slipped back into self-sufficiency, the wonky kind, the kind that makes you believe you have to do everything by yourself, that asking for help or being in need makes you a bother, an annoyance, instead of just a regular ol’ human being. And I closed my book and went inside and pulled a chair up to Bear’s desk and we had a good chat. I told him the fears and stresses I’d been keeping inside so I wouldn’t annoy him, and he laughed and shook his head and pulled me in for a cuddle and reminded me that he actually likes hearing about my fears and stresses AND happinesses and successes. That’s what love is. That’s what friendship is.
And I cried and hugged him tight back because when you’ve been keeping stuff bottled up out of fear or shame and you can finally let it out and realize that you never, ever had to keep it stuffed in after all, well, it’s quite a relief. And you feel both foolish and inestimably comforted at the same time.
It’s funny, isn’t it, how much comfort there is in letting your guard down and being weak and wobbly and messy, and discovering you’re loved anyway?
And funny how we can’t find that comfort until we’re brave enough to reach out and connect with people. To let them see us with all our doubts and worries and spectacular stuff-ups.
It’s a risk, always. But one worth taking. And bit by bit, person by person, we build a little retinue of people who love us anyways, always, no matter what, and let us love them that way in return.
I’m grateful for that kind of love from Bear, from my friends, and for the comfort and strength it provides.
I’m also grateful for the non-people comforts of life, the rainy afternoons and good books and bowls of homemade soup.
We had lots of soup this week, drawing inspiration from what’s growing in the gardens: onions, carrots, potatoes, fresh herbs. Sunday was a creamy Curried Carrot with lots of fresh ginger, while today was Beef Vegetable with carrots, onions, peas, and a rich, savory broth fragrant with thyme.
Tonight I posted my first newsletter in a loooooong time, talking about what happens in life When Healing Changes Us. Click here to read it, and click here to subscribe to future newsletters.
Now I’m going to settle in with a cup of elderberry and hawthorne tea and read a bit before bed. I have a big day of wood-working ahead of me tomorrow, and an early night is sounding rather wonderful.
What are some of your favorite non-people comforts? xo
by Krista | Feb 19, 2017 | Summer
It’s my favourite kind of Sunday morning. Quiet, dark, and cool with gentle rain falling. It rained all through the night and our parched farm is soaking up every drop. I was up late working when the first drops began to fall, and when I finally crawled into bed I couldn’t sleep for the sheer delight of listening to the rain splash against our tin roof. I’m so thankful.
February has been a month of good things, wonderful things, with big changes that are breathing new life into me. My contract with the law firm ended and I started a new job as a Virtual Assistant for an Australian company that I absolutely love. Each day is a surprise filled with interesting tasks that stretch and intrigue me. This week alone I’ve planned a client’s month long holiday to India, started managing another client’s rental property in Sydney, and developed a marketing strategy for yet another client’s stock brokeridge firm. Add that to my writing, photography, and art work, and my heart is full to bursting with happiness that I am doing work that I love and am excited about doing every day.
With Robbie getting steadily better, my health improving dramatically, our farm transitioning to a more manageable hobby farm, and our medieval family making plans for the new season, we have so much to celebrate.
So celebrate we did.
Friday I finished work early so we canceled the rest of our plans and took ourselves off to Toowoomba for a Day of Doing Happy Things.
We had brunch at our favourite deli and had a good visit discussing medieval projects and the next steps for developing our farm. We picked up a luscious triple crème brie and freshly baked sourdough kalamata olive bread to take home with us, then went treasure hunting at every thrift store we could find.
It was so much fun, especially since we’d purposed to only get things that made us feel happy inside.
It was splendid fun. We went to our old favourite shops and chatted with our lovely mates who always give us special deals and extra discounts just because.
Then we asked Google for suggestions and found so many thrift stores we didn’t even know existed! What a jolly time we had rifling through stacks of books and piles of linens, perusing racks of dishes and shelves of dvds and sorting through a hodgepodge of who knows what until we saw something that gave our heart a lurch and we knew it had to come home with us.
We found glass bottles I can use for my medieval potions and skincare products I make at home, gorgeous old plates and aged silver that will be perfect for food photo shoots, and wonderful books that will inspire and delight me for years to come.
Bear found just what he wanted for some a medieval projects and I spotted a lovely wooden board that will be perfect for displaying medieval herbs and spices. I found beautiful crisp linens as props for photo shoots, and, my favouritest treasure of all, an exquisite hand-crocheted, hand-embroidered tablecloth. The lady at the shop told me it was so precious they wouldn’t sell it for ages, just had it on display in their window. But the day we arrived they’d decided to sell and I brought it home where it will be dearly loved.
We ended our lovely day out with cake and a visit with Oma, then returned home with full and happy hearts, excited about this next phase of our life together.
Rain is falling again, so thankful, and bread is almost ready to take out of the oven. I think I’ll make a pot of soup then snuggle down on the couch on the back porch with one of my new books to read until I fall asleep on this Perfect for Napping day. xo
by Krista | Feb 15, 2017 | Summer
I’m writing by lamplight tonight, windows flung open to welcome rain-washed breezes.
Rain finally came today. Not a lot. Just enough to clean the air and release the scent of damp earth, but we treasure it all the same. Our poor sun-baked ground is covered in massive cracks, most of them big enough to slide a hand in, and the blistered grass crunches underfoot when we walk across it. Smelling the soggy leaves and moist dirt tonight brings tears to my eyes. It’s been so long.
I was outside calling in the goats when it began to fall, raining through sunshine, glittering and dancing. Is there anything so glorious as cold raindrops on hot skin? I stood on the veranda as it pelted down, loving the splatter of water on my bare feet, then went for a walk as it slowed to a misty drizzle, in awe of the play of light and shadow where the water droplets clung to the grasses of the dam yard.
I crouched down in the midst of it, letting the wet strands of grass wrap around my legs and dapple the hem of my sundress with water. I felt transported to a fairyland of sparkles and shimmers that swayed in the wind.
It did me good to see such beauty, to be surrounded by glimmers and twinklings of light.
The glowy feeling stayed with me as I put the goats away for the night and let Luna and Solar out for a romp, as I took Kebab, Anni, and Emma out to the paddock for their late afternoon nibble. It stays with me now as I snuggle into our doona and cozy in for a good read before bed.
Gnite. xo
by Krista | Jun 23, 2016 | Winter
It’s been a sleepy sort of day, dark and rainy, cold and quiet, the sort of day where you want to curl up in bed with a book and not do much of anything. So I did, for a little bit, right after I got off work at 8 a.m. I climbed under the covers and read a few pages of a fun little mystery, feeling rather marvelous all warm and cozy under the covers as the rain pattered against the window pane.
It was lovely and relaxing, but then life beckoned and I rolled on out of bed and got busy with dishes and laundry and paying bills and making lists and paying more bills and cooking and whatnot until finally all the vital stuff was done and the rain stopped for a bit and I could go outside.
I went to visit our little kids, watching them nibble hay and bother the dog and try to nurse on the wrong mother and get head-butted for their efforts. This little one never fails to come up to me, prancing and skipping then skidding to a stop if I make any sudden movements. She’s a little adventurer and bold as a lion and I love her.
Kebab, our little ram, came up for a head scratch, and then he was off with his harem to wander under the trees and eat grass.
I headed for my gardens to see what they looked like after all that rain, and was astounded.
Scrawny seedlings have shot up several inches, tiny beetroot leaves are now nearly as big as my palm, pea vines are covered with fat pods, eggplants are plump and dark, and the tomato branches are hung with bright green tomatoes.
The greens have gone especially wild and are absolutely gorgeous in their vivid greens and brightly colored stalks. This rainbow chard is so pretty! It’s going to be beautiful sauteed with sultanas and toasted pine nuts.
These mustard greens are stunning with their lime and burgundy coloring. Since they’re rather strong, they can handle strong flavors, so I’ll cook them with crumbled sausage and caramelized onions.
I’m really fond of Swiss Chard, and have planted varieties in magenta, crimson, and bright orange. They’re so versatile and can be added to many things: chili, soup, salads, quiche, sandwiches, smoothies, etc. They’re one of the few plants I always have growing year round.
We’ve been eating simple, warming foods over these rainy days. Beef stew with red wine, scrambled eggs and sourdough bread, and toasted cheese sandwiches with tomato chutney.
Today I roasted several beetroots until they were tender, then tossed them with a balsamic Dijon vinaigrette, creamy Danish feta, and fresh thyme leaves for a lovely winter salad.
Today all sorts of good things arrived at our house. I picked up our first grass fed beef order from Highbrit Beef. It looks amazing and they even threw in free meaty dog bones for our Apollo, Freja, Solar, and Luna. They’ll be thrilled! I also received my latest heirloom seed order and am so excited to start planting again, especially after this good rain prepared the soil so beautifully. And, last but not least, a new River Cottage dvd to inspire and amuse us as we press on enhancing our skills as foragers, gardeners, orchardists, and animal carers. I do so love learning.
What good things are happening at your house this week? xo
by Krista | Apr 1, 2016 | Autumn
It’s been an unseasonably stormy week and I’ve loved every moment. Mist-shrouded mornings with fog so thick the window screens are dripping as if they’ve just weathered a drenching, black clouds muscling together overhead and pelting us with rain, rumblings of thunder so deep they shake the earth.
The back veranda has become my favorite place and I come out here as soon as I get off work at 8 a.m. each morning. It’s a spot full of comforts that cheer and restore, and no matter what is happening in my life, I always relax when I sink down into my chair, pull my red blanket over my knees, and settle back with my coffee or a hot cup of chocolate mint tea.
No matter how quietly I slip outside, the geese always catch me and set up a royal honking that could wake the dead. This rouses the goats who are snoozing happily in the sunshine and a few scramble to their feet, hoping that perhaps this is the day that I’ll come down early and toss them some hay. Kebab, our lamb, is next. He’s always out before everyone, grazing his cute little self among the trees, and when he hears the ruckus from the geese he bleats and gallops up to the veranda, hoping that perhaps this is the day I’ll let him up here with me.
But as I sit here contentedly, calling out greetings but not budging, the animals simmer down. The geese go back to pecking around the compost piles looking for grubs, the goats sink down onto their bellies to snooze a bit longer before Bear lets them out into the paddock, and Kebab trundles off again to nibble on the new grass that has sprung up since the rains returned.
Yesterday (or was it the day before?) my strength started returning after this latest long illness. It’s amazing to wake up feeling awake instead of half-drugged, able to move without too much pain, able to think clearly again after fighting through a fog of fatigue and general awfulness.
So I went out into my gardens. How I’ve missed them. And how thankful I am to the rain for coming the last two weeks so they could grow without me. They desperately need a good weeding, everything needs to be fed, and I don’t have a single thing planted for my Winter garden, but it’s OK. It really is OK. We only have to do what we can, and not one thing more.
And if all we can do is lay in bed with pain pills and season one of Gilmore Girls to distract us, that’s OK.
If all we can do is our job or keep children alive or stare blankly at a computer screen because our inspiration is kaput before we reheat takeout leftovers for dinner (again!) and collapse, that’s OK.
Whatever our “can” is, that’s enough.
My “can” this week was not much. I did my job – breathing thanks that I have work that I love, that pays our bills, that is with people who make me smile every day, and (thank you! thank you!) let’s me work while propped up in an armchair or, if necessary, my bed. Yep, I did my job, and that’s about it. We ate easy crockpot meals and rotisserie chickens and salads from the deli and I watched more movies in one week than I have all year.
And you know what? All that rest, all those lovely stories, all that good, simple food, it really helped.
And yesterday (or was it the day before?) I finally got to go out to my gardens and tear out old tomato plants and dried up bean stalks, I got to pick chilies and capsicums, elder berries and silverbeet. Just little jobs, but they sure felt good.
Then the rain started and I dashed up onto my beloved veranda and gathered my comforts around me and let it pour.
I wrote in my journal and drank hot chocolate.
I read a few more pages in the gorgeous Spring issue of Victoria magazine and got inspired to write more pen-and-ink letters and eat more edible flowers and take more walks in pretty places.
I looked through my stack of recent second hand book purchases and as enticing as they were, I decided to just pull my blanket up closer and watch the rain instead.
I watched as it turned the dusty, pale gum tree trunks into vivid reds and greens and perked up the dried up clumps of lichen on the edge of the veranda. I closed my eyes and listened to it clatter on the tin roof and smiled as the wind blew it right in my face.
I watched it plonk into puddles and trickle into rivulets that meandered through the grass and down the steps.
Bear joined me after a while, bringing hot cups of tea and coffee with him, and we watched the storm and smiled and thought that life really is pretty good when you just do what you can and let go of the rest.
xo
