by Krista | May 1, 2022 | Autumn
“Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons.”
J. Bishop
The sun is down and the temperature is dropping quickly so I’ve tucked a blanket around my legs to keep me warm as I write.
It’s quiet on the farm tonight. The rain has stopped, the wind has stilled, and the only sound is a gentle tap-tap and occasional peep from the guinea fowl keets in their box in the kitchen. I had to move them into a taller, non-jump-out-able box this week after one made a daring escape and found himself trapped behind a bookshelf. I managed to retrieve the trickster with a prodigiously long set of barbecue tongs, and he’s now back safe and sound with his mates.
It’s well and truly autumn now and the vineyards, orchards, and gardens of the region are in that lovely stage of decline where everything is nodding off before winter, but not quite asleep.
There are still gorgeous flowers blooming amongst rusted petals, curling leaves, and papery husks, and I’ve been taking every possible opportunity to write garden-based stories for the newspaper so I can wander at my leisure through russet and gold beauty.
This week I got to amble through the gardens of the Hokstead Plantation just before they tore out the last of the summer plantings. They were busy finishing up a stunning bouquet of native flowers and greenery, so they let me stroll about to my heart’s content.
It was dark, drizzly, and cool, my favourite kind of autumn weather, and I loved the sculptural beauty of plants losing their leaves and petals and the amazing transition of colours from vibrant pink, red, and yellow to softly burnished rose, burgundy, and bronze.
I explored the nursery, trailing my fingers over the smooth leaves of lemon myrtle, sighing happily at the vibrant puffs of fairy floss flowers high up in the treetops, smiling at the occasional lush blooms putting on one final burst of beauty before the frost arrives.
Autumn gardens always make me feel peaceful because the work is coming to an end and things are ready to be buried under thick layers of compost and mulch and sleep soundly through the winter.
They remind me that not every season is for productivity, some are for sleep, quietness, getting fed, nourished, and rested.
Dear old autumn. I needed that reminder.
This weekend has been a cosy one of good projects balanced with rest, books, art, and reflection.
I made three jars of pear ginger jam and a big pot of ham lentil soup and organised my seeds and art supplies.
I scrubbed floors, installed a new toilet seat, and read “Nicholas St North and the Battle of the Nightmare King” and Darra Goldstein’s Scandinavian cookbook, “Fire + Ice”.
I wood-burned nine wooden spoons, coloured a picture of mushrooms, and bought myself a set of screwdrivers for my toolbox.
As I enter a new week, I look forward to embracing the slower, more peaceful days of autumn, making the most of every opportunity to get outside and bask in the wonders of this most glorious season.
“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings.
Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees.
The winds will blow their own freshness into you,
and the storms their energy,
while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.”
John Muir
by Krista | Apr 25, 2022 | Autumn
It’s dark and quiet this morning, a cold autumn wind whistling through the trees and making me thankful for afghans and blankets and a second cup of hot coffee.
The last few months have been intense, a hurtling sort of time when you just need to hang on for dear life and push through until you can find breathing space again. A time where self-care is essential to make it to the end of each day when you can finally collapse into bed, sleep like the dead, and wake up in the wee hours to start fresh.
Yes, it’s been hard, painful, and scary, but also rich and meaningful and laced with connections with incredible people who make me stop and smile and feel like there is much reason for hope.
It’s been a time of personal hibernation for me, pulling back from much to make sure I can handle the vital without crumpling.
And now I’m catching my breath as we move into a new season without floods and catastrophic storms and cancer concerns and huge work commitments and debilitating injuries and broken water pipes and dead appliances and the innumerable other things that have had us shaking our heads and wondering, what next?!
This week I get to wash laundry in a washing machine instead of by hand, fill animal troughs with a hose instead of hauling buckets, hear properly with both ears, and take time to actually plan my next steps instead of lurching from one bonkers situation to another.
I am grateful.
Grateful for baby guinea fowl in the warm kitchen, bottles of pear ginger jam on the window sill, and new asparagus shooting up in the gardens. For cuddly dogs, full rainwater tanks, and our first harvest of pomegranates. Aren’t they beautiful?
The newspaper I work for is closing this week and, even though we all know it’s the right thing and the right time, we’re rather sad. We’ve loved working together, loved sharing the stories of our amazing community, and we’re going to miss it and each other very much.
I’m not sure what my next steps are, but, as we write stories for our last issue on Friday and pack up the newsroom and meet together for final drinks, I’m quietly excited about the future.
In the meantime, I plan to rest, potter in my gardens, work on farm projects with Bear, and trust that my next steps will be good ones. xo
by Krista | Jan 24, 2022 | Summer
I’m sitting in my office with one dog snoozing beside me and another stretching luxuriously on the veranda before she goes back to snoozing. I just finished the breakfast Bear made for me, my client work is done for the day, and now I get to sit a bit and watch the clouds roll in, dark and heavy with rain.
Today, as I acknowledge the myriad things I have no control over, I celebrate the choices I do get to make. They may be small, but they are powerful and I love them.
This week I’m waiting to see if I have cancer again.
Yesterday I had a biopsy and now, I wait, being gentle with myself as I float along the waves of fear and anxiety that inevitably come at times like this. I remind myself that I’m allowed to be scared because this is scary. I’m allowed to get a bit teary because this is hard. And then, when the waves pass, I’m allowed to hunker down into peace and find and create joy wherever I can.
This week I’m choosing to do the things that bring me joy: hanging out with Bear and our dogs, exploring nature, and reading new books that take me on vicarious adventures to Venice, Tasmania, Denmark, Ukraine, and England.
I love that even in our darkest times, we can choose goodness, choose the things that make the hard times easier to bear, and choose to let ourselves feel the yuck until we get through to peace. xo
by Krista | Nov 12, 2021 | Spring
I love deconstructing. Really, really love it. I love deconstructing recipes and furniture, appliances and books, politics and faith, working my way back to see all the components, figuring out how they work together, and seeing if there’s a better way.
I think deconstruction is one of the greatest privileges and responsibilities of being a grown-up because it leads to humility (I don’t know everything), compassion (nobody knows everything), and peace (it’s OK to not know everything).
Most of all, it leads to so much fun, adventure, and discovery. The world opens up when the preconceived ideas are dismantled, human beings are no longer the enemy but fellow travellers who have things to teach us, and our creativity flourishes as we press past boundaries and begin to build a new faith, community, political ideology, or way to make pancakes.
But first, we have to face the fear and prepare ourselves for backlash.
Institutions really, really, really dislike deconstruction. Political organisations, religious groups, businesses, friendships and families, they’d all prefer that we muddle along in a state of unquestioning acceptance and tradition because it makes things so much easier for them. They’re also rather fond of controlling people, and get quite cranky when we say, “No more.”
Sometimes it’s not about power or control, it’s simply the discomfort of change. Change in those we love is unsettling and scary, it threatens our sense of belonging, understanding, and security, it can make us feel like we’re being judged, abandoned, and as if our opinions, beliefs, and ideas don’t matter.
As I’ve deconstructed, I’ve lost community, family, and friends. I’ve been judged, rejected, gossiped and lied about. I was told I was evil, going to hell, and a shame to God, the church, and my community.
In the beginning, those reactions were devastating. They broke my heart and sent me through a long period of grief and mourning. And then, those reactions became a gift. They showed me the reality of how people saw me and freed me from relationships and institutions where I was not loved, accepted, and respected. And those lonely spaces they left in their wake? They were just what I needed to study, write, observe, examine, test, ponder, and discover.
Most of all, they gave me the time and space I needed to realise that going forward, no matter what happened, I would never abandon myself again. I would be my most devoted advocate, fiercest warrior, and dedicated worker-through-er-of-things so I could build a life grounded in reality, love, and adventure. Yes, adventure.
By choosing to see deconstruction as an adventure, it has become truly delightful. Yes, there are still periods of rage, grief, and loss as I uncover lies and process trauma, but I know now that each of those moments will be followed by peace, greater freedom, and deeper joy. I can go through the yuck because I know the wonder is coming. I can feel it as the trauma pain leaves my body, the nightmares lessen, my breathing becomes ever more deep and natural. I see it in my reactions to the world. I no longer have space for bullies or abusers, but my heart gives ample space for good folks with differing viewpoints, ideas, and thoughts. My world now is full of colour and nuance and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I write all this today firstly for myself, so I can celebrate how far I’ve come and how much I’ve learned, but secondly, for anyone who might be in deconstruction and feeling the terror of it.
You’re going to be OK. You really, really are. It’s going to be horrible and then beautiful, horrible, then beautiful, over and over until the beautiful begins to outweigh the horrible and the things and people that traumatised and harmed you will lose their power and you won’t feel the weight of them anymore.
You’re going to be OK because they lied to us. You don’t need faith to heal. You really don’t. You can heal with faith, and you can heal without it. Faith is not a determinant for healing from trauma and abuse anymore than it’s a determinant for healing from cancer or influenza or a broken leg. Anyone who tells you it is, is lying.
You’re going to be OK because you are never going to abandon yourself again. Slowly but surely you’re going to heal the disconnections with your own, dear self, you’re going to rebuild trust, you’re going to be able to distinguish your own voice from the clamour of others and find that it is wise and good and trustworthy.
You’re going to be OK because you have all the time you need to work through whatever you need to work through. There is no deadline, no exam, no evaluation, just good, steady, beautiful, loving work until you die. And every day when you wake up, you are enough, just as you are, no matter what stage of grief or healing or thriving you’re in. You’re just right and just where you need to be.
You’re going to be OK because you can do hard things. You’ve already done them. You’ve already survived lies and abuse and trauma and poverty and job loss and loneliness and rejection and illness and the loss of people you love. You’ve done all that. You’ve woken up every day and chosen life, and that is incredible.
You’re going to be OK because you don’t need to do this alone ever again. You can ask for help without shame, you can go to the doctor and keep going until you get the help you need, you can find a psychiatrist and keep trying them out until you get the one you need, you can get books from the library, listen to audiobooks and podcasts, join supportive Facebook communities, call depression or anxiety hotlines, go for walks, eat lots of veggies, drink enough water, sit in the sunshine, help others in need, take naps, cry your heart out, do something creative badly until you get better at it, whatever it takes to care for your own dear, beloved self. You are worth fighting for.
You’re going to be OK because you don’t need to know the ending to start the journey. You may end up with a beautiful new faith or a beautiful no-faith and no matter what anyone says, both of those are valid. If there is a God, he’s never, ever going to abandon you no matter what you are able to believe or not believe, and if there is no God, he was never there to begin with and you’re going to be just fine.
You’re going to be OK because you will find a home for yourself again. It’s going to be lonely for a while as you figure out who you are and what you believe, but, as you get settled in yourself, you’ll find people who will love you, as you. You will find good people who are loving and supportive and kind and will welcome you with open arms, people you can love and care for and who will do the same for you. There are people of faith and people of no-faith who are absolute gems and love based on a person’s humanity rather than whether they measure up to their correct idea of belief or not. There are good people who don’t care how you vote or what you believe, they just see and value you.
Lastly, you’re going to be OK because you don’t answer to anyone but yourself. You don’t owe anyone a description of your belief system or the state of your faith. You don’t have to explain it, defend it, or even define it. It belongs to you and you alone.
You might be a hope-er instead of a believer, you may retain faith but switch denominations, you may embrace a mix of pagan, Islam, and Christianity, you may toss all religion on the burn pile, you may simply not have the strength or energy to care anymore. It’s OK. That’s the other great thing about being a grown-up, you’re allowed to shape your own belief system. No one has the right to tell you what to believe. No one. They may think they have a monopoly on truth, but they don’t. It is simply impossible for any of us to have all the information in the universe to make a sufficiently informed decision about anything, so all we do is make our best guess. And frankly, when we realize that all of us are just guessing our way through life based on limited information, we’ll be a lot kinder to each other and a lot more humble.
One last thought. As humans, we get to keep growing, changing, and learning. We get to adjust and alter along the way as we learn and experience more. For me, there’s great comfort in this. This life is an adventure in every way, terrifying and exhilarating, mundane and wondrous. A deconstructed and mindfully rebuilt life is a glorious thing and I am so proud of you for doing this incredibly hard work.
Wishing you courage, endurance, and so much love as you explore and experiment and examine. You’re going to be OK. xo
by Krista | Nov 8, 2021 | Spring
The Grain Shed Retreat in Goomburra was filled with the scent of spices, herbs, berries, and fruit on Saturday as four friends and I gathered to make all sorts of boozy concoctions at “A Fine Tipple” workshop.
With just over 6 weeks until Christmas, it was the perfect time to bottle homebrews to be ready to celebrate the holidays or give as gifts for friends and family.
We made decadent Irish cream with Canadian whiskey, ruby-red raspberry liqueur, sunny mandarincello, smooth Bedouin date wine, and sweet Moscato infused with rosehips, hibiscus, goji berries, and mint.
We had such a wonderful time visiting and making a glorious, sticky mess as we zested piles of fresh mandarins, squished raspberries, and chopped sweet dates.
We whisked together cream, whiskey, coffee, and cocoa, blended dried herbs and berries for our own personal infusions, and noshed contentedly on the scrumptious morning tea made by my dear friend Bel.
As much as I love the face-to-face fun of in-person workshops, I know that not everyone is able to attend. So, I want to share with you the recipes we made so you can make them in your home and hopefully bring a bit of extra happiness and cheer to your holidays this year.
Irish Cream
Ingredients:
1 cup pouring cream
1 tsp coffee granules, powdered
½ tsp cocoa powder
¾ cup whiskey
1 tsp vanilla extract
½ cup sugar
1 ¾ cup evaporated milk
1. In a bowl add 1 Tbsp of the pouring cream and coffee and cocoa powder. Mix well.
2. Slowly add remaining cream, whisking until smooth.
3. Add whiskey, vanilla, sugar, and evaporated milk and whisk until smooth.
4. Pour into a jar, seal, and store in fridge until ready to use, up to two weeks.
Date Wine
Ingredients:
1 bag of dates
warm water
1. Cut dates in quarters and put in jar until 2/3 full.
2. Cover with warm water.
3. Seal and set in dark place for 7-10 days.
4. Strain, bottle, and drink.
Berry Liqueur
Ingredients:
2 cups raspberries
500 ml vodka
½ cup sugar
1. Place raspberries in bottle, add vodka and sugar, stir to mix, seal tightly.
2. Store in a dark place for 2-3 weeks and shake once a day.
Mandarincello
Ingredients:
6 mandarins
500 ml vodka
¾ cup sugar
¾ cup water
1. Zest mandarins, put in jar, cover with vodka, shake. Set in a dark place for 2 weeks.
2. After two weeks, put sugar and water in small saucepan and bring to the boil, stirring until sugar dissolves. Set aside to cool completely.
3. Add cool syrup to the mandarin mixture, seal, return to dark place and leave another week.
4. Strain, bottle, and store in fridge to drink cold.
Herb-infused Moscato
Ingredients:
½ cup assortment of herbs, dried fruit, and spices
2 cups Moscato
Directions:
1. Place dried herbs, fruit, and spices in a clean, glass jar.
2. Pour in Moscato to brim of jar.
3. Seal, shake, and store in dark place 2-3 weeks, shaking every day to ensure ingredients stay submerged.
4. Strain, bottle, and store in fridge to drink cold.
Please let me know how your brewing adventures go. I’d love to see what you make. xo
PS – You can also try my Cranberry Lime Beer here.
