Our little house is quiet and still tonight after days of rain and wind. Bear and I had a big day working with our animals, weeding the carrot patch, and tackling a pile of work projects, and it was lovely to finish everything tonight and have corn chowder and grilled cheese sandwiches and just rest a while.
We’re still unpacking from a wonderful medieval event over the weekend. Wood smoke has permeated all my clothing, and it makes me smile to catch whiffs of it as I sort through boxes and baskets of cloaks, medieval garb, and linens.
It’s always so good to get away to these events, to get our medieval tents set up, make our beds with linen sheets and wool blankets, and light a fire in the campfire Bear modeled after one in the Bayeux Tapestry.
The fire is the heart of our medieval life. It’s where we gather before the sun is up to heat water for coffee, waiting to wrap cold fingers around a steaming hot brew.
It’s where we stand at every meal to fry up sausages and potatoes, flip pancakes, or simmer big pots of homemade soup, curry, or stew.
It’s where I boil more water to brew my medieval medicines and heat up whole milk to show people how to make cheese.
And it’s where we linger at night, huddled close in our woolen cloaks, clutching drinking horns or cups filled with mead, wine, beer, or homemade liqueurs, talking for hours with dear friends.
It’s those connections I treasure most, listening to outrageous stories, sharing heartaches and happinesses, looking around at beloved faces glowing in the firelight. Sometimes I stand back in the darkness and just watch, smiling at the cozy warmth of the scene, fixing it in my mind for those days that need a bit of warmth and light in them. I feel so lucky to be part of this crazy tribe, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. xo