by Krista | Jan 3, 2018 | Summer
2017 felt like an inordinately difficult year. Not your usual a-bit-of-bad-but-mostly-good year, but a truly, outrageously, you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me sort of year. One where you look back and think, “I’m not even going to attempt describing what happened this year, because nobody would believe it.”
Except, to be honest, I think they would.
Nearly everyone I’ve spoken to had a ghastly year. Tragedies, financial catastrophes, health traumas, personal crises, the works. Nearly every heart-to-heart conversation is peppered with, “Me too! Same here! So did we!”
And I think that’s the loveliest thing about heart-to-heart conversations, they remind us we’re not alone. There are other people who don’t know how they’re going to pay their power bill or if they’ll ever have real friends before they die or when they’re going to wake up without wanting to go straight back to bed again. There is inestimable comfort in feeling understood and loved, especially when circumstances make us feel thoroughly unlovable.
I’ve been smiling a lot this week, not because life is magically easy and perfect and all the hard of 2017 disappeared, but because I’m not alone in the hard.
When the hard comes, the easiest thing for me is to withdraw from people. I don’t want to be a burden or a bother, I don’t want to be the one needing help and extra attention, I don’t want to make anyone else’s life more difficult. It drives Bear crazy. “How can I help if I don’t know?” is his earnest refrain.
So I practice. I practice being vulnerable and real and honest. I practice sending a text message or making a phone call or tapping someone on the shoulder and asking that oh-so-scary question fraught with the possibility of rejection, “Can I talk to you?”
So, back to the whole smiling a lot this week. I’m smiling because over the holidays I reached out again, and people reached out to me, and through that brave reaching out, we comforted each other, we laughed through our tears, we found renewed courage to try again, and we felt understood and accepted as the beautiful messes that we are.
We reached out in our backyard, sitting under shade trees and trying not to melt in the sweltering, pre-storm summer heat as we talked about job changes and crazy kids and bugs devouring our gardens.
We reached out at the picnic table, clinking glasses of icy cold ginger wine as we discussed mothers in rest homes and lack of thigh gaps and fatigue from endless late nights and early mornings.
We talked at the kitchen table, crying together as we figured out how to navigate the depression of a family member, grieve the loss of a loved one, and make time for ourselves in the hurly-burly of life. Cherry-infused port wine calmed ruffled spirits and turned our sorrows into laughter as, once our burdens were shared, they became lighter and we could see the funny side again.
We shared our stories via email and text message, over cups of coffee and around the camp fire, and somehow, even though nothing had changed, everything had changed because we’d connected with people who care. And knowing that we matter to someone, well, that brings light to the darkest places.
I’m smiling too because connection not only brings comfort and light, it also brings inspiration.
All those talks gave me new ideas for food to make and books to read and art to make. I have lists of great movies and good music, day trips to take and cafes to try, new blogs to visit and seeds to plant.
All those ideas sent me on a mission of inspiration this week.
I’ve been spending so many happy hours down in the granny flat, parked in front of the fan, surrounded by books and magazines, markers and notepads.
It’s not a time for doing, it’s a time for filling up my imagination with good things: gorgeous pictures, creative blog posts, recipes and gardening tips and historical narratives.
I’m loving it so much, and feel deeply thankful for my loves who so wholeheartedly share their lives with me, and would be miffed if I didn’t share mine right back. xo
by Krista | Apr 20, 2017 | Autumn
The wind is howling today, sending leaves and feathers skittering across the farmyard, creating a dance of shadows on the grass as tree branches bend and swoop.
The animals are hunkered down out of the wind, finding calm, sunny spots to snooze the afternoon away.
I’m staying warm under a blanket on the veranda, writing my weekly newspaper column and updating an article on smoking techniques in between dashes to the oven to replace trays of tomatoes and garlic I’m roasting. I marinated a brisket in garlic balsamic vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, olive oil, salt and pepper, and a bit of liquid hickory smoke, and as soon as the tomatoes finished, popped it in the oven to slow roast it for dinner. The house is smelling wonderful.
I’ve been working in my gardens, taking cuttings of my favorite herbs – pineapple sage, spearmint, lemon balm – and putting them in water in tiny glasses all along a sun-drenched windowsill in the kitchen. Most of them have little roots already, and that thrills me to pieces. Soon I’ll transplant them and tuck them into my greenhouse for the winter to grow and strengthen until spring.
Other herbs have made their own starts – tarragon, common mint, and yarrow – and I’ve been dividing them and planting them in new spots so they can grow nice and big.
Yesterday we picked up a few I don’t have yet – German chamomile and lime verbena – and an extra elderflower because, in my opinion, you can never have too much elderflower. Next week I will tuck the first two in my greenhouse and plant the elderflower in my new garden bed where it can spread out into a beautiful hedge that will keep us supplied with flowers and elderberries for many years to come.
Campfires have been our comfort and delight this week. Especially after a big day of medieval projects.
Bear and I have been making, staining, and painting tent poles for our new medieval market stalls. For the past five years we’ve made due with what we had, but every year, without fail, I got sunburn and heatstroke. This year Bear made Sue and I our own shelters in the style of medieval Muslim market stalls we found in an old manuscript. They’re beautifully shady and cool with plenty of room for us to display our wares, do our demonstrations, and talk with people interested in learning about medieval folk medicine, medieval desert tribal food, linen-making, coffee-making, and cheese-making. We’re so excited to get them set up and decorated with the vivid colors favored in the 12th and 13th centuries.
After painting four coats on 28, 8-sided tent poles, dinner by the fire sounds like pure bliss.
Sometimes we just sit and stare quietly into the fire, getting lost in the play of light and heat. Others we visit amiably whilst eating cheeseburgers on homemade buns and watching the sun sink down through the trees.
And one night, when Bear had some writing work to do inside, I had the fire all to myself. I poured a glass of homemade cherry brandy, pulled my chair up close to the warmth of the flames, and let all the stresses of the day melt away.
Our first medieval event of the season is nearly upon us, and we’re so excited. This weekend our Blackwolf friends arrive to pack our trailer with tents and poles, pegs and ropes, rugs and tables, beds and shelves, pots and boxes, chairs and bedding. And plenty of firewood for as many cozy moments around the fire as we can muster. xo
by Krista | Mar 13, 2017 | Summer
Rain is falling gently, making our world quiet and peaceful. I have an unexpected day off and am basking in the utter novelty of a day to myself. Bear and I had a leisurely breakfast, I watched Miss Marple and Poirot, and sipped tea on the veranda then hot chocolate in bed as I basked in the richness of stillness.
It’s been an intense week of hard physical labour in addition to my regular work. After several months of chiropractic work and physical therapy, my body is finally able to handle the demands of getting our farm back on track. I’ve loved every second of strengthening my muscles again as I hauled wood, piled trash, carted rocks, shifted furniture and equipment, dug some holes and filled in others, swept, shoveled, and raked. I could barely move at the end of each day, but it was good pain, the pain of a job well done and a body doing what it is meant to do. By next morning I was ready – albeit creakily – to go again. It’s a lovely, amazing thing to have strength and endurance again, and I’m cherishing it.
After so much work it was sheer bliss to clean off the dirt, straw, poop, and sawdust of the farm and get dolled up and head to the Empire Theatre in Toowoomba to watch the Moscow Ballet perform “Swan Lake.” It was exquisitely beautiful and inspiring, and especially fun shared with Oma and her grandson, Alex, who are always jolly company and great conversationalists. I returned home with visions of sumptuous costumes and soul-stirring music to send me off to sleep.
Next morning it was back to work as we bustled about getting ready for the arrival of our English friends – Gary, Lorraine, and Leah.
I had told Bear I needed a place on our farm where I could sit and only see beauty – no tasks to work on or projects to complete – just peaceful respite. I needed a pretty place. It would never enter Bear’s head to need a pretty place, but he’s a luv and helped me anyway.
We set up a campfire area with logs and stumps for sitting and one of our old medieval fire pits for cooking. We pulled in tables and chairs too because, I don’t care how spry you are, a fallen log is only comfortable for so long, and then you want something with a bit of squish to sink into and a solid back to lean against. We set up a bin to collect and hold firewood and then it was ready. It is a truly happy place for both of us where we can rest and look out on unencumbered views of trees and fields and goats grazing on a nearby hill.
I decorated simply with cheery tablecloths and a cluster of marigolds given to me by Shadrach, a lovely Congolese man I interviewed last week. They make me so happy.
Our friends arrived and we had such a jolly and peaceful day, the sort of day that leaves you totally tuckered out but with a big smile on your face.
We walked around the farm, saying hello to dogs, geese, pigs, bees, chooks, turkeys, and goats, before making a beeline for some shade and cold drinks. We visited long over lunch – slow-roasted beef on soft, buttered bread rolls and potato salad with capers, red onion, and paprika – all of us letting the cares and stresses of the last few months melt away as we laughed and told stories and decided that next time we were going to pitch tents and make a weekend of it.
When we found out they were keen to learn archery, Bear and I hauled out our stash of medieval bows, arrows, and a thoroughly modern target for some training and practice.
It was so much fun, marked with much hilarity as initial attempts sent arrows flopping and dipping wildly. Bear is a great teacher though, and soon arrows were thwack-ing into the target one right after the other, followed by whoops and hollers from the peanut gallery.
The afternoon flew by and before we knew it the sun was setting and it was time for dinner.
I built a fire and let it burn wildly for a bit until there was a good bed of coals. Then we set a grate above the hot little beauties and put sausages on to cook.
I thought I’d give the coals a little nudge with a few bits of kindling when WHOOSH a billow of flame instantly charred one side of the sausages. Thankfully Gary came to the rescue and managed to salvage my burnt offerings and turn them into something edible and downright tasty.
We filled our plates, toasted each other with red wine and cold beer, and sat around the fire visiting and eating and watching the sun sink lower and lower.
At last it disappeared and a luminous moon appeared, casting a pale, magical glow over the farm. As the stars came out we hugged each other good-bye with promises to get together again soon.
It was a good day. xo
by Krista | May 3, 2016 | Autumn
Sometimes the best laid and dearly loved plans run thoroughly and utterly amok.
This past weekend for example. Bear and I had been working hard for months getting ready for a medieval reenactor’s weekend with swarms of our best loved medieval friends. We were looking forward to it so much. Even when my left hand swelled up black and blue after being kicked repeatedly by a feisty lamb, and my right hand swelled up after being pierced by a stray wire that jammed in there, and Robbie cut open both shins when he ran into a rogue piece of iron, and I pulled a muscle in my foot – we were still so excited and hobbled along and got all packed up and arrived in time to get mostly set up before dark.
All was well…until the rain started falling…and falling…and falling. And bit by bit the dirt turned to mud and the tent pegs popped out and in the middle of the night, after a particularly thunderous torrent, the tent fell down on top of our friends, braining them with tent poles and dousing them with water. We woke to their cries of alarm and stumbled out of our tent to find sheer mayhem. Everything was down, drenched, and streaked in mud. Humph. We stood there in the rain wondering what to do and realized…nothing. Our friends took refuge in their van, we spent a sleepless night wondering how to get the camp back together before acknowledging, nope, we simply couldn’t. The sodden ground wouldn’t hold the pegs and the pegs wouldn’t hold the tents and with another storm on the way we knew we’d just have to pack up and head home.
So we did. And it was sad and disappointing and frustrating, but it was the right call. For the rains returned and didn’t let up until Monday. We would’ve been stuck in sodden misery.
Thankfully we had some lovely moments before we left. Starting with sunrise.
Even after a soggy, sleepless night, the sun rising through the trees, shimmering through wood smoke, glistening on the dewy grass, well, it can’t help but lift your spirits.
And when you get to take a break from folding waterlogged tents, tarps, ropes, rugs, blankets, clothing, etc and sit down at a table with good friends and have homemade medieval fruit cake slathered with butter, the world feels rather wonderful.
And when you add a cup of coffee and some good stories and hearty laughs and commiserations from friends stopping by to moan and groan with us and give us big, squishy hugs, all the rumpled feelings and stresses untangled themselves and we made peace with our mayhem.
We were sad to leave, but thankful for the few hugs and visits we were able to squeeze in before we left, for one meal cooked over the fire – is there anything better than hot stew on a rainy night? – and for the chance to figure out how to make our camp storm/flood proof for next time.
Bear and I have learned that when disappointment hits, the best thing is to feel sad then replace it with something good. So we did. And I’ll tell you all about that next time. xo
by Krista | Apr 26, 2016 | Autumn
It was a jolly and exhausting weekend with our good friends, Sue and Vincent, as we worked hard and played hard in preparation for our first medieval event of the season.
There was new garb to model with whoops and catcalls from cheeky onlookers, menus to plan, and a new tent to set up in the face of fearsome winds that threatened to send Sue and I sailing off over the trees like Mary Poppins as we clung for dear life to tottering tent poles.
We sorted and packed, unpacked and planned, debated and decided, filled out paperwork, and finally collapsed in relieved, happy exhaustion, ready for some ginger wine and fire-roasted dinner as the sun set through the trees.
I lit a fire in our cute little pot-bellied stove and put sausages on to cook. They are the Hungarian sausages I told you about last time, flavored richly with garlic and paprika, salt and black pepper, and they were absolutely beautiful charred and smoky from the campfire.
Sue brought corn on the cob and first we cooked it in the husks, then set it right over the fire to get a wee bit charred. Pure bliss smeared with butter and dusted with salt.
We toasted Turkish bread and poured more wine and finally collapsed into our chairs in the last rays of the setting sun.
With a chink of wine glasses and hearty toasts we dug into our feast and rested our weary bones.
We visited amiably as the sun disappeared and the winds died down, sipped our wine, laughed at funny stories and thought how there aren’t many things better than good food with good friends on a gorgeous night in the country.
This week we’re back to bustling, working hard to finish last minute projects and arrange caretakers for the farm while we’re gone. Bear finished our 12th century bed, I completed my Bedouin garb save for the silk ribbon trim that just arrived in the mail this morning from England. We made linen sheets and pillowcases and hauled medieval gear in to get packed away in wooden boxes for the trip. Today I’m at last starting a medieval quilt for our bed. It’s a lot of work but so much fun. We’re both excited to get to camp and have a good ol’ visit with our friends.
What are you looking forward to this week? xo
