This year and the next

On this last day of 2015, I sit on my bed and contemplate the year flown by and the year showing on the horizon. I began January 2015 with tears in my eyes and a shaking voice in my throat. I was standing on the threshold of forgiveness and stepped through. Winter gave way to spring, which saw the ripening of my Japanese pumpkins and a flourish of mint, sage, basil and thyme and I ended a friendship that had become parasitic in nature. Summer came snapping on the heels of spring and a left the clutches of a poisonous work place environment, battled a fungal infection in my pumpkin crop and mourned the sudden death of my Clan sister, Angela.

Autumn saw me drop into depression and rise, like a struggling salmon, out of it's sucking murk. I redoubled my efforts to write (on my novel and on this blog), and began working as an independent contractor. All the yard work and house cleaning put money in my hand that was sorely needed after leaving the Maids, though I had the Clan's support in leaving that horrible place. I discovered more farm blogs and began reaching out to other farm writers; I pruned the unworthy and cast them back into the realms of fiction. Winter has just begun and with the year soon at it's end, my mind turns to 2016.

If my plans work out, I should be cleaning houses regularly in addition to working for the YMCA providing after school child watch. If April's Beltaine festival has a big turn out, my vending there might encourage me to go to other Gatherings and provide confections. I am also going to take my clay and fashion horns for Beltaine. With luck, I will be able to sell the four or five sets I will make. I might also take some jewelry down there in hopes someone will buy it. I know I say it often, Lady bless me.

But truth is, every little bit helps.

Tomorrow, I am holding out New Year's Day feast. Seeing as both halves of the Clan took to different parts of Georgia to spend Christmas with the families of their birth, me with my parents and Colin with his own folks, we are celebrating a late Yule as a Clan tomorrow. Here is what is on my menu for tomorrow...

*Oven Roasted Turkey
*Mashed Potatoes
*Gravy
*Cornbread Dressing
*Hearth Bread
*Honey Butter
*Sauteed Peas
*Buttered Corn
*Cranberry Sauce
*Brown Sugar Cranberry Cookies
*Sweet Tea
My mouth waters just to think about it and I had a good breakfast this morning.

Beyond Fear

If farming organic produce has taught me anything, it is that a farmer must force themselves to look beyond fear. Fear of pests, fear of weather, fear of failure-personal or crop related, and fear of the ever changing unknown. Fear is present in our lives, it has been a driving force to our species since we were living in caves and wearing fur wraps.

Acknowledgement is not the same as dominance.  I have learned that you cannot allow fear to dominate your actions if you intention is to derive a living from the earth. Nature is both gentle and harsh, both fruitful and full of decay. She strikes a balance and we must learned to lean into the wind of that balance, to face it in hard time as well as bountiful ones and above all, and know no fear. It is easier said than done but one thing I have always demanded of myself was to strive toward a greater self. So when the fear rises to gnaw at my heart, I push it back down with teeth bared. The strong make sacrifices, the weak make excuses.

I make my plans for the following year in the last few days of the previous one. 2016 will be my year of enterprise, where I set up to spring forth, capturing new opportunities for myself and my Clan. I am negotiating a large house cleaning, hoping to set up monthly service for a previous client, applying for a part time job with the local YMCA and hoping to go to a festival in April 2016 as a food vendor offering confections from Indigo Pastry. More money coming into the Clan means we get closer to being able to affording our homestead.

Every little bit helps. So hears to letting go of fear and embracing tomorrow, bright with possibilities.

The song that strikes the heart cord

If I could kill a word and watch it die

I'd poison never, shoot goodbye
Beat regret when I felt I had the nerve
Yeah, I'd pound fear to a pile of sand
Choke lonely out with my bare hands
I'd hang hate so that it can't be heard
If I could only kill a word

I'd take brokenness out back
And break heartbreak, stand there and laugh
Right in its face while shootin' it the bird
I'd put upset down in its place
I'd squeeze the life out of disgrace
Lay over under six cold feet of dirt
If I could only kill a word

Give me sticks, give stones
Bend my body, break my bones
Use staff and rod to turn me black and blue
'Cause you can't unhear, you can't unsay
But if were up to me to change
I'd turn lies and hate to love and truth
If I could only kill a word

I'd knock out temptation's teeth
I'd sever evil, let it bleed
Then light up wicked, stand and watch it burn
I'd take vice and I'd take vile
And tie 'em up there with hostile
Hang 'em high and leave 'em for the birds
If I could only kill a word

Christmas tree, O Christmas tree

Oh Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree!
Thy leaves are so unchanging
Oh Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree,
Thy leaves are so unchanging

Not only green when summer's here,
But also when it's cold and drear.
Oh Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree,
Thy leaves are so unchanging!

Christmas Eve Day dawns being heralded by lightning and tornado warnings this morning. Here in Dallas, Georgia and seated at the dinning table I ate upon since the tender age of seven, I can see my Momma's Christmas tree in the reflection of the sliding glass doors that leads to the sun room. Momma is at work in the kitchen, whipping up pancakes and bacon as we listen to George Straight's "Christmas Cookies'. 

This is the first time in four years I have been able to come home for Christmas, though this is the third house my parent's have come to call home in Georgia. Situations arose that caused my childhood home to be sold as my father took a job in Tucker. The split level colonial at 3450 Aaron Trail was sold. They moved to Winder, were we were all just starting to fall in love with the house on Berkshire Lane when my father got a job offer back in Powder Springs. Again, my parents were forced to pack up and move. Now my parents live in Dallas, Georgia but as I sit here I feel a familiar warmth start to gather and coalesce in the far corners. It is the love of a family that make a house a home; this place is already brimming with it. Soon enough, it will be just like the old colonial on Aaron Trail but better, being bedecked in the coloring of my parent's five grandchildren and ringing with the peels of their laughter. 

As you gather with your families to share the light of Christmas Eve, remember in your thoughts and prayers those who have no one to be with this holiday season. Spare a smile, share a laugh and spread the warmth of joy to others.

"For to love another person is to touch the face of God." Les Mis
 

Georgia Born; Georgia Bound

" Well, I was raised underneath the shade of a Georgia pine and that's home, ya know.
Sweet tea, pecan pie and homemade wine
Where the peaches grow. 

And my home is not much to talk about
but it's filled with love that's grown in southern ground."
-Zac Brown Band "Chicken Fried"

Tomorrow morning a round up a portion of the Clan to head down to Georgia. I'm headed back to Powder Springs, the place where I grew up. From seven to nineteen years old, I galloped about West Cobb county with the neighborhood kids, just a feral pack of adolescents pretending our mountain bikes were barrel ponies and splashing in what we called "Cougar Creek" to escape the summer heat. Though I fell in love with Tennessee at the age of seventeen with my first trip to Harrison Bay State Park, Georgia has always been and will always be, on my mind.

As well as in my heart.

I am spending three entire days with my parents in their new home and I am very excited. In fact, I am elated. I have missed my mother and father so much. My mother has been my friend, advocate and defender since I was a babe in her arms. My father and I have developed a rich closeness in my adult life that, even as I sit here and write, chokes me with tears. Their esteem and love has made me one of the happiest woman in the world. If you are reading this, Momma. If you are reading this, Daddy. I love you more with each breath. I will also have the pleasure of seeing my little sister, the twins Kimberly and Megan.

And then, of course, there is a small cadre of adorable nephews and one beautiful niece I cannot wait to show with presents, sweets and kisses. Tomorrow, I intend to head out early. Before 6am if I am lucky. That will put me getting into Powder Springs around 8:30-9:00am EST if I I beat the traffic getting out of Knoxville and Chattanooga.

All I would ask for from my readers are your prayers for safe traveling mercies while I take a portion of my Clan southward, that we arrive hale and heartily.  A merry Winter Solstice to all and a Happy Yuletide at that. May it be full of warm and delight, with the love of family and friends all around.

Thankful Work

Last night I was pleased as punch. I had managed on a tight budget to buy gifts for a little more than half of the people on my Christmas list. This is so wonderful. I am blessed to have loved ones in my life to gift things to, blessed to have a little money when it is needful and to mostly due without it other times of the year.

As I talk about feeling blessed, I must also speak on being thankful. One of the ladies of the Barony of Thor's Mountain contacted me today to schedule a housecleaning. Since leaving the Maids of Knoxville, I have done house cleaning, organization and yard maintenance for members of our Barony to bring in extra funds when the need has been there. I did this over the late summer for another lady and I am pleased to be doing it again on Thursday morning.

Opportunity knocks but you have to listen. More over, you have to put your ear to the ground and still your breathing because as silent as a doe, opportunity can slide right by you without a breath. I am very thankful to know there are people talking about my good work and I am getting thankful work because of it.

Thanks be. I am well blessed in this life.

Salt and Flesh

Woke up this morning and came downstairs to start on chores rather quickly because the majority of the Clan will be going to Al'se'war this weekend. So I put up the clean dishes, served out some of the ham I baked last night for a quick breakfast and load up the dishwasher for another go. I know I comment about doing the dishes often but it is one of the first chores of my everyday routine. With six people in the Clanhold, dishes are constantly being cleaned.

After the dishwasher is running, I clean a space on the counter and pull of my "greened" hides. Greening refers to coating the flesh sides of your furs or hides with pickling salt for storage. I check for any off off smells and find nothing amiss. I add a little more salt around the edges of the flesh side and fold them back flesh to flesh.

Next week I will be washing off the salt and using a skinning knife, fleshing the hide. Then it is into the bucket with a generous pouring of 20 Mule Team Borax.

I have decided against pictures because while I have no problems with blood, flesh and skin some of my readers may. It is out of respect for them I will include no pictures of any home processed live stock, skinning or greening of hides on this blog. Once the furs come out of the soaking stage, I will be happy to post pictures of the ongoing project.

Have a great weekend, everyone. Have fun, keep safe and enjoy yourselves!

48 Minutes and Effort

This morning I took advantage of the fair weather and went out on the front half acre to collect wood. I brought my wheelbarrow, a hand saw, two strong hands, two steady head and my commitment to effort.

In forty eight minutes, I had collected all the fallen wood from our front half, the oak limbs ran a spectrum of size. Some were ideal for kindling, being about the thickness of my middle finger. The thinner branches I pulled apart my hand and despite the cool breeze, I was warm in just a short while. The larger limbs were about my forearm's circumference in thickness and I used the hand saw to cut them down into more manageable pieces. An entire wheelbarrow's worth of wood in under an hour, with minimal tools. That is a good bit of work done. I have some larger pieces I will be taking the axe to tomorrow morning to cut down to size.

I am pleased because the reality is I only have three large oak tress in the front half I can harvest from. All this wood harvested here at the clan hold goes to feed the smoker. Colin is frying up rabbit tomorrow night but later in the week I hope to smoke some beef brisket. This is one of the ways I cut costs here in the Clan, harvesting all our wood for the smoker from my own two acres. With luck and diligence, my Clan will never have to spent money for wood. That's a one good deal, in my thinking.

Silent Sunday: 12/2002

Age: 18

Friday Morning

 This morning I woke up to a world of frost; it was 7:30am and the back 1.5 acres was glittering white. Rose and I ventured to the back landing, shivering as we let Pai out to relieve herself and watched the sky grow ever more pink. If you look hard, you can see the University of Tennessee's Farm Division. We share a street with some 200 head of black Angus cattle. Each year in the spring the fields are verdant green with spots of fuzzy black were the calves rest in the gathering warmth. Rose and I can hear the cattle lowing in the distance but head back inside once the dog has concluded her business. I get busy making oatmeal and heating water for tea. I get into the dishwasher and put up all the cleaned dishes from the night before. This is a daily chore for me. When you have six people and two pets in the house, cleaning is a constant among your everyday tasks. It gives me some time to think in the quiet chill of the morning. I turn up the radiator in the living room, settle little Rose with oatmeal sprinkled with cinnamon and nutmeg. I put on "Room on the Broom" for her and she is happy as a clam. A few hours go by and the clean dishes are now up and the dirty ones are on cycle. Rose and I have both had breakfast; Rose plays at her table with her costume jewelry and stuffed great white shark while I allow myself one episode of Grey's Anatomy. With the episodes being 45 minutes on average, I rarely have more free time than to watch one or two episodes before attending to the other chores of the Clanhold.

The frost melts in a few hours and by the time 10:00am rolls around, it is melted off the back acres and a half. Despite the clean sky and sun, the wind is up and cuts straight through my light top. I head back in to get some proper clothing on before I go into town to return a couple of movies back to the Blount County Library and pick up bananas for Rose.  While the entire Clan can feast on its home grown pumpkins, squash and tomatoes during the spring and summer, bananas are beyond my ability to grow. Organic bananas are $0.69//lbs at Kroger in Maryville.

I am pleased to pick them up slightly under ripe. Rhiannon likes them best this way and it allows me to keep an eye on them better if there are any left for making banana bread later. It is just Rhi, Rose and myself here at the Clanhold this weekend as other Clan's members are traveling this weekend. Seamus is going down to Alabama for Magna Faire and I cross my fingers in hopes he will come away with an award for his essay in competition. Unfortunately, I did not get my registration forms sent in before the deadline and thus will not be competing in Magna Faire. It was my own fault and next year I will make sure to mark the registration deadline on my calendar. For my readers who don't know, Magna Faire is an Arts and Sciences fair competition within the Society of Creative Anachronism. Most of the Clan is part of the Barony of Thor's Mountain here in Knoxville, with Colin and Seamus fighting heavy. Both Kieran and I hope to authorize in Heavy fighting; I also plan on pursuing Arts and Sciences for period brewing and baking. For more information, visit Society of Creative Anachronism (SCA) and Barony of Thor's Mountain.

To the right in a picture of our Clanhold around 10:30am in the morning. All ours trees are in the front, a lovely dogwood tree and three large oaks. Fallen branches from these oaks are stacked by the front door to dry, then carted around back for use in the smoker. We never buy wood unless absolutely needful and that is a rare circumstance. Nature provides the wood and the Clan provides the work to see that the smoker does not run out of fuel. The smaller branches we break with our own hands or over our knees; the larger branches we take a hand saw too and use an axe to split them into pieces the smoker can handle. In addition to gathering wood today, I also drained the rabbit hides and added a little more salt. Tomorrow, I will tack them to a wooden board and begin fleshing them for the soaking stage. Colin has asked me to look up the prices for tannin powder for when I actually start the tanning phase. I am a little concerned that the tannin powder, which is oak, will stain the white rabbit fur but I will use white vinegar to try and prevent this. Even if it does make it a little brown, I am okay with that as long as it is properly tanned and I do not lose any of the fur. That  will be Saturdays chores, along with dishes, baking bread and gathering more wood.

May you all have a wonderful weekend and thank you for reading the Heart of Home: Finding my Homestead.

Thursday Thoughts

The rain blew out and was replaced by deep blue skies today, lanced with white clouds and a bright sun. The wind blew cold from the mountains but the air smelled faintly of wood smoke and the rosemary warming in the morning light. I walked out my door this morning to check the mail and was floored by what a beautiful world we live in. Even when the rain falls for five days straight and the creeks flood over their banks, I can find so many reasons to want to protect this world we live in. Giving back to the land so that it is rich and fertile for future generations, treating animals with love and skill and reusing materials so we can limit waste. Those are just a few things we can do to ensure that our great grand children's children can look up and see a bright blue sky, to see the sun glowing gold in the east, to know the sound of chicken clucking, honeybees buzzing while they tend their comb and lambs baaing to their dams.

If tomorrow is cold and dry, I will go out and gather wood. The high winds have brought down a lot of fallen limbs in the front yard. Good fodder for the smoker. I also think I will walk the neighborhood, looking for any trash on the side of the road. I will take a bag and a pair of gloves with me. It is a small thing to pick up litter but every little bit helps.

Harvest and celebration

Last night, Colin and I went out to Turning Point Farm and purchased two, white Californian buck rabbits. These gentle boys were easy to handle and home slaughter went as expected: quickly and with care.  With sharp knives Rhi and I, with Colin on standby for consultation, steady skinned our bucks. I laid the skins fur skin down and liberally salted them with pickling salt, rolled them flesh to flesh to keep the salt off the fur and set them in a container in the fridge. These two "green hides" will keep for 3-5 months with proper salting and a cool climate. It is likely tomorrow I will pin them to a wooden board and start the fleshing process, then set them to soak in borax. Tanning has been a favorite hobby of mine since 2011, the year when I had bought a meat goat for home slaughter. It was the first time ever I had killed an animal and it was one of the most moving actions I had ever experienced. To thank a creature for his or her sacrifice, to hold them gentle as you take time to skillfully deliver their death so they can feed your family is as powerful a thing to feel as losing one's virginity. It alerts you and the way you view the world you know. You have the knowledge of the act within you and it brands you.

This was my first time with rabbit but I have home slaughtered one goat and one sheep before. As with my tanning, it is vital that I keep my knives sharp, oiled and my skills smart. The final thrust should always been given with skill, speed, grace and mercy.

With the hides salted, we turned to removing the organs. These are rinsed and saved for our dog and cat, both who get a steady diet of fresh meat in addition to a lamb/salmon first ingredient pet food. It is important to all the Clan that our animals eat well. The humans always have and so we extend the same consideration to our pets.

With rabbits cleaned, salted and tucked away to age a while in the fridge, I took to my bed. I was exhausted by the sheer emotion of the night. That said, it was a good night and well done at that. The white rabbit furs will go to my three year old daughter when they are ready, to be stitched together by me to make a wrap she can wear against the cold wind. Air turned chilly again for the first time in five days and I finally saw the sun, though it's warmth did little to penetrate the mostly gray sky.

This afternoon, I went with my daughter and nieces to Soma in Knoxville. Colin was kind enough to purchase a new bra for me and I am very grateful for the support, in my heart and on my back. It is not often that I purchase something for full price that has never been worn before; most of my clothing comes from Karm thrift store here in Maryville. It is nice to have such a beautiful garment; satin gray with a bow and rhinestone charm in the center. I was able to find out my current size, which is a relief. I had not been sized for a proper bra since I was pregnant with Briar Rose. Now I can donate all the gently used bras that did not fit my well to Karm. I am very pleased with the gift.

I have joined the Clan for supper over the course of this post. Rhiannon's 19th birthday was today and we held a small feast for her. I made a lovely cheesecake with fresh lemon curd for topping. Everything came out perfectly. With a full belly and a contented heart, my body longs for sleep.

May all of you be having a beautiful night.

Thank you for reading. Good night.

Giving Thanks

Summer Greens of 2015

Upon waking up this morning, I noticed that the views for Heart of Home had increased dramatically, seemingly overnight. After finding the source of the influx of readers, I just want to take the time to show a little gratitude. Thank you for accepting and understanding my censure. I am humbled by the comments I read.

There is always a risk in speaking one's truthful feelings in this world today. I am glad to be among those who know where I am and where I am coming from.

Again, thank you. I hope you continue to enjoy the Heart of Home.

With Care and Respect,
A.N King

Rain, Rabbits and Responsibility

After a morning out in the rain, cleaning and rinsing out my cat carriers for rabbit transport, it is nice to be in warm, dry socks while I wait for the laundry to dry. A rainy Monday means a lot of chores are going to get done today in the clanhold. Trash has been taken out, laundry is in the works, dishes are washing and the garden has been checked. The rosemary is up to my knee cap and is a bright, healthy green. I will have pictures up on the blog soon.

I have been doing some soul searching concerning the Heart of Home: Finding my Homestead and what this blog must be. It has become clear to me that a blog I had been following is not all that it appears.  I have seen a lot of discrepancies and more fabrications that I am comfortable with. I love fiction but if you are blogging and writing about what is suppose to be the life you are living, actually do the work and  live it. Farming is hard work and not a women-child's play thing.

Henceforth, I have stopped following the blog and heavily considering what I should do with the four books I own written by said blogger. They have no business in my homesteading library, as they are mostly fiction. Elaborate to the point of being cloyingly sweet fiction.

It is my responsibility, to both the clan and my audience that the telling of finding my homestead is true. It might be easy to paint either a story disproportionately sweet or sad to tug at the heart strings of one's fans but that is not the way of my story. My story is of truth.

I am hoping to replace those four books with ones written by Joel Salatin. That man is a model of integrity and his practices are the true future of sustainable agriculture. It is my hope that next spring or summer I might make a visit up to Polyface farms, to see in the flesh the good work Mr. Salatin is doing for the world.

You can find out more about Joel Salatin by visiting his website, Polyface Farms.

Silent Sunday: The Heart of Family

(from left to right) Addy, Kim, Mom, Brayden, Megan, and Briar Rose

Heart of Home Recipe: Bourbon Chocolate Chunk Pecan Pie

Hmm Good!

To make this beauty you will need the following...

Preheat oven to 350F
 
 1 3/4 cup of all purpose flour (chilled)
1/2 cup butter or shortening (chilled)
1 pinch of salt
1 pinch of sugar

Using a large glass bowl, add flour. Cutting the butter into fine pieces, rub into flour until small crumbs form. Add salt and sugar, combine. Using iced water, add water until pie dough pulls away from the side of the bowl. Turn out on a floured surface and with liberally floured hands, roll into a ball. Coat your rolling pin in flour and roll out dough. Prick the bottom of the dough with a fork across the surface.

Set pie crust in fridge and make filling.
6oz of pecans (halved)
2oz of almond (sliced)
2oz of Benchmark brown sugar bourbon
2 TBSP of brown sugar

1/2 cup of dark corn syrup
1 cup brown sugar
2 TBSP melted butter
3 eggs
1 tsp of vanilla extract

1 cup dark chocolate chips

*Combine nuts, bourbon and brown sugar. Set aside, covered and in a warm place. 

* Combine corn syrup, sugar, vanilla and butter until creamy. Add eggs in one at a time, incorporating fully before adding the next. Pour into pie crust.

*Add dark chocolate chips to bourbon mixed and fold in.

*Using a slotted spoon, add nut mixture gently until you have covered the entire surface of the pie.

* Bake for 55-65 minutes or until set.

*Cool for two hours in fridge.

*Bring to room temperature before serving. Serve with ice cream or whipped cream.

Blessed in Heart, Hearth and Home

Thanksgiving day saw me way too busy with food preparation and house cleaning to write but I am hoping all reading tonight had a wonderful day with their families. The house was so warm yesterday with everyone bustling about that my bread dough rose beautifully. A gift of chives and rosemary from someone in our SCA group, the Barony of Thor's Mountain, made a beautiful topping for the honey heath loaves.

Hearth bread with herbs about to go in the oven :D

In addition to fresh chives and rosemary, poppy seeds and salt went toward topping the loaves, then they were brushed in melted butter. I was in charge of all the baking this year, in addition to hearth bread I also make a bourbon chocolate chunk pecan pie. All day the kitchen and living room was filled with the scent of roasting turkey with stuffing, honey hearth bread, pecan pie, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes and baked squash. Colin made a delicious batch of gravy, flecked with pepper and enriched with turkey giblets. Just to remember it makes my mouth water and my heart brighten.

Baking done!

With all this love and thanks to be had, it also turns my mind toward those who are less fortunate. Winter is hard on all living things and humans are no different.  On December 11 I will be making a donation to my local charity, the Blount County Food Bank and I will be giving blood soon to the Red Cross. I have jackets I will be donating to Give a Coat, for people who are in need of proper winter clothing. Every little bit helps, so while we busy ourselves toward our Holiday plans do keep in mind those who have less this year and give the gift of just a little more.

I know I am blessed in hearth and home. Not all are so lucky and so I do my best to share the wealth I have. It costs me little to give of myself.

Just around the corner is my niece Rhiannon's 19th birthday and I am happy to tell you that I am done with her birthday present! Even as I write, Rhi sits across the room for me, flipping through Desserts by the Yard (Sherry Yard)  and Naked Cakes (Hannah Miles). With two of my favorite cook books in her procession, I am sure she can find something fabulous for me to bake on her birthday. She smiles as she makes her selection; a zesty cheesecake. I know exactly what I am going to do for her. It is another blessing to be able to make a cake from scratch for someone I love as dearly as I love this girl, for her quick wit, bountiful work ethic and skill. It fills my heart with joy to imagine her beaming face.

December 1st sees me driving out to Turning Point Farm to pick up two Californian white bucks. Rabbit will be on the menu and white fur to be tanned for the coming Solstice season. I have eaten rabbit rarely in my life and am looking toward to it with much excitement. Home processing of stock is something we did on several occasions in Georgia and it will be good to get back into it. I have never tanned rabbit fur, just goat and sheep. Hair off for the goat and fleece on the sheep. I have a knack for it, I think. At least, I never had a hide go rancid on me and I am skilled with a sharp knife. The rabbit pelts will go toward making someone very happy this year, I think.

Blessings of Heart, Hearth and Home. They are around us everyday, half hiding in the eyes of our pets and made flesh in our fresh baked bread, pies and cakes. Blessings abound in a family coming together to sing a lullaby to a young child, woken from sleep by a nightmare. They are a little off tune and one head a head cold but love shines in their eyes brighter than the sun. They are a Clan, stronger together than they are apart. They are the thread that stitches together this Heart of Home.

The sweet chill of fall

The cold wind coming down from the Smokey Mountains give one the taste of winter on the tongue. No snow came to the Valley but in other states light powder dusted the land. The crisp smell of fall in everywhere, coming in ghostly wisps of wood smoke. Everywhere, people make ready to roast turkeys and bake pies.

This will be a different holiday for the Clan, as we will be missing one of our dear members. Angela would make her pumpkin pies and bring out her fine china. This year, we won't have those things or her, which changes the lay of the land in more than one way. One the other side of the Wheel, I hope she whom I called Moonstone is feasting with friends long since passed away. It is the chief most serenity I can hope for.

So here is a Happy Thanksgiving from the Heart of Home. May it be full of family, feasting and the sweet chill of fall.

Blessings

This morning finds me very grateful for the resource rich world we live in. For two weeks, we have washed, rinsed and dried our dishes by hand. It became needful to do the entire process manually when our dishwasher died. While waiting for a replacement, everyday I would go and fill up the sink with hot water, soap and with my hands wash everything. During this time, I never failed to think of how lucky we are. To have hot water at our finger tips whenever we so desire it. To have clean water of any temperature, that we know is safe to give to our families, humans and animals alike. Thankful to have dishes to eat on and thankful for having food to eat at all. It is all the little blessings of our everyday lives that make our existence so exquisite an experience.

I pour a glass of milk for Briar Rose and dust it with a little cinnamon. My heart swells with gratitude that my daughter with only ever know the pain of hunger as a momentary discomfort, eased the moment she turns to one of the Clan and asks for an apple, a cup of mint tea or a box of raisins.  Thankful for the life that makes Rose's naked ramblings around the house her choice and not her fate. Within easy distance, I can produce a clean and sweet smelling dress or tunic. We are blessed to have all that we do, blessed to have so many in the Clan who work toward a better life.

We count our blessings, every one.
With joyful hearts, when day is done.
We know of love, were 'er we roam.
For here is our very Heart of Home.
                   

Autumn Rain; Winter Roses

Winter Rose by Patricia A. McKillip

 Four days of steady rain hasn't made for many ventures outside the clan hold this week. Most of the week has seen me roasting a ham, making a cheesecake, organizing books in the home library and working on my novel for Nanowrimo. I've made more progress on the laundry than the literature but tomorrow night we are leaving for Orlando to visit Briar Rose's Grandmothers in Florida. We will be gone for three days before flying back. I must admit, I am concerned about bringing my three year old on her first flight. Never mind it has been seventeen years since I last traveled by plane.

Just put your head down into the wind, love. The things we tell ourselves to get by.


Stormy days are great for finding reading time once the chores are done. Once such beautiful novel is Winter Rose by Patricia A. McKillip. If you are dying to lose yourself in the shadows of the winding wood, wells full of roses and gemstones, voices calling in the wind and the heady scent of chamomile and wood smoke. This is a tale of a young woman who by chance spies a beautiful young man stepping out between light and shadowed oak. His family is rumored to be cursed and curiosity drives her to discover the truth of it. Truth, however, turns to be more shadowed than even winter's night and as Rois gets closer, the more she seems to lose herself in the eyes of the man called Corbet Lynn. Rois may never find the truth but when the curse of Lynn Hall reaches out to ensnare her sister, Rois must brave the shadowed wood of rose thorns and owl feathers to find the eyes that watch and free those she loves.

It is a magical tale and I could hardly put it down. 

A High Heart

Another beautiful weekend spent in in one of Tennessee's state parks. This past weekend we were at Montgomery Bell State Park just a little ways from White Bluff, TN. A rather testing drive since we had to go to the other side of Nashville but we arrived on Friday night safe and sound. A great weekend spent in the company of friends who live far away, from nearly all corners of the South. I have the true pleasure of spending a good deal of time with someone I have known since the age of seven, a man who is near and dear to my heart in so many ways. All the stock went into making eternal chicken soup for the weekend, which was absolutely delicious. I really enjoyed myself and stole away the pleasure of sleeping in until 2:30pm on Saturday. That is a rare enjoyment when you have a young child. True enough said when Briar Rose woke me up at 7:00am sharp. I took Kieran to school this morning (her alarm clock did not go off in time for the bus) and came back to the quiet house.

My heart is full of smiles and warm feelings; how good it was to see you. My heart is in high spirits indeed.

Making Stock

Tonight the house smells of lovely chicken stock, some six quarts and counting. A gallon and a quarter of chicken meat, hand pulled and shifted thrice for bones, sits in the fridge. The second round is shimmering merrily on the stove top, garlic and light fennel scenting the air. It goes to the tune of six quarts of water, one five pound chicken, shimmered with three cloves of garlic, a pinch of fennel seed and exactly two whole cloves. Add a pitch or two of salt. Simmer for three and a half hours. So the house is scented with chicken stock, slowly filling up all the corners and nooks of the clanhold with its comforting scent. The stock rumbles softly, almost purring as it simmers along. A household music if every there was one.

The weather is turning cooler and the nights roll in earlier. My daughter tells me shortly after night fall that it is her bed time, without any prompting from me. Only three years old and already minding her own schedule. That is my darling Rose.

Twenty two minutes and counting down, until I can transfer chickens and stock to the fridge to cool overnight. I will process them in the morning. For now I think I will slip off and have some blueberry green tee. Good night, all.

Autumn

“All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.”

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

Silent Sunday: The Cake of Old Friends

Clean Fridge, Clean Heart

Nothing like a clean fridge to make you feel like you have a clean heart.

Therapy comes to us in uniforms, especially here at the homestead. The scrubbing, cleansing and wiping all the grime away really frees the soul. Now I have a fridge I am proud to show people (I totally posted it to Facebook the moment Rhi and I completed our work) and an easy heart.

Moving the cloud of dust, one can see the flying hooves of the mare in the distance.

Gaining Ground

Another early day with much in the way of plans. Good things are in the works. A twelve pound pork shoulder is slowly cooking away in the oven at a tender 275F, laid in a shallow sea of apple cider vinegar, rubbed in a glorious trifecta of sage, salt and cumin. Drizzled with a little honey and massaged in sweet cream butter, it will slowly roast until the meat slides seductively off the bone. Floating in the apple cider vinegar is a small bouquet of peppers, to add just a little heat. Chamomile tea steeping in the big pot, soon to be a pitcher of slightly sweetened herbal tea. I complete a couple quests in Dragon Age II while the household is still asleep, allow myself the small indulgence if visual entertainment before shutting down the console and heading back into the kitchen. The tea has scented the middle floor of the house in the cozy, warm note of chamomile flowers. It is a smell I will always associate with comfort, well weathered and beloved old mugs, Kieran Rose and Angela. It was Angela's favorite tea, with lemon-ginger coming in a close second. So much so that in her favorite mug, which sits right by her urn, I slipped a Cozy Chamomile tea packet into the bottom of the cup.

It is the little things we remember to do that bring us the most healing and closure. 

It is a beautiful day today. The sky is nearly clear, a sharp blue only occasionally dotted with puffy clouds. I am catching the notes of recently cut grass, wood smoke and Autumn blooming flowers from the open window. To my right, the mouth watering smell of the roasting pork greets me. The small pockets of spice intermingled with the scent of warm honey and powdered sage. In breath in deep and cannot help but smile. 


It is a start.

Slowly, I am finding my footing back to joy. I noticed it when I could walk away from a moment anger without losing my control. I noticed it when I employed mercy instead of ruin, even when ruin could be justified, if not just. I am sleeping better, breathing easier and I can smile without feeling forced.  

Slowly, I feel the river bed rise to meet my feet.

Slowly, I start to gain ground.

Two Hands; One Beating Heart

Dawn breaks cool over the Clanhold this morning. Awake at 6:00am, I laid in the bed until 30 minutes past. After that my brain was too aware for more sleep and I wandered downstairs by the light of  an apple scented candle. The gentle breeze outside tugs at the branches of the dogwood tree, birds sing softly in the yard. Durellen, my black domestic short haired cat, sleeps contently on a blanket beside me. My tummy reminds me that there are pasture raised, farm fresh eggs in the fridge and my mind turns to possible ideas for breakfast.

Still waking up, I put on Paula Cole's Album This Fire, humming along with "Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?"

Some of you know I have been going through a low spell due to several contributing factors, the least of which has been losing roughly one half of my current novel project to data corruption. When you fall off the horse, you got to get back in the saddle. So they say but there is no mention made whether the horse in question has the good graces to wait for you before it runs off. Or stand still, even pause a moment to let you get your foot and shaking heart back in the stirrup. I have felt for the last two months as if I have been trailing the horse, getting just within touching distance before the mare's head comes up sharp and through my fingers the reins do slip


Such has been my battle with depression. 

There have been other things but they are of a more personal nature. Relationships ended. Trust tested to the breaking point. The myriad joys and woes of parenting. Late summer was so much having known one's place and then given reason to question it. It has felt a little like floundering in a great river, loose purchase on the rocky bed below,. The cold and rushing currents confusing me and diverting me from my course. The mutual desire to want to talk to a friend about certain things and the knowledge that in sharing some news, you change the lay of the land. The adage "True but Unhelpful." immediately comes to mind. I have, however, not allowed myself to wallow in this gloom. I take measures to bring my head above the water line; creating illuminated artwork and shading a coloring book I got off of Amazon. A color book that is full of cats. Somehow, by indulging my inner old cat lady I slip the chains of sadness and fly free into blue skies. 

Everything little bit helps.

The Clan in currently in full residence with Kieran being on Fall Break and Rhiannon having returned from her seasonal work. She will be with us for a week before she is off again on her adventure, diverting down to Georgia before heading back to Texas and work. Colin is working overtime as a new series of projects gets underway at the plant, Seamus has picked up editing work to boost our income. I plan to reopen my cottage bakeshop on October 12th, hoping as we go into the holidays Indigo Pastry can fill in the corners. Extra income and, in the same motion, provide me with some soul lifting work. 

I will get back in the saddle, I am catching up to that rogue mare yet. I know that deep inside, I have a momentum that is hard to withstand and difficult to stop. Eventually, this storm will pass me by.

I think October will help in its own way. 

I've got two hands, one beating heart.
And I'll be alright. Gonna be alright.
I've got two hands, one beating heart.
And I'll be alright. Gonna be alright

 - Ingrid Michaelson, "Girls Chase Boys", Lights Out

Silent Sunday

Weathering the Storm

My plans for visiting Georgia this weekend got nixed by the onslaught of heavy rains here in the TN valley, in addition to being under a flash flood warning until Monday. *sighs* So it goes but I might have a chance to visit both friends and family come the second weekend of October; we'll just have to see what the week holds in store for us. Right now is is 61F, rainy and with little signs of stopping. Which means it is a fluffy sock wearing, hot tea, wrapped in a blanket weekend for me. I might brave the elements to see if the Market Square farmer's market goes on or gets rained out.

So that is my plan. Curl up with a good book, like The Curse of Chalion by Lois McMaster Bujold, and light the candles in my room. Even though the coolness in the house is nice compared to the stifling heat of late August, the hurricane now pounding the Bahamas is driving a cold wind down from the mountains. Fire is ever a comfort, even if it is an emotional and not so much a physical one.

Throwback Thursday

Briar Rose Elizabeth King- Sunday- 08/19/2012- 12:11pm- 7lbs 3oz and 20.5 inches

Georgia, Georgia, what peace I find...

In two days time, I will be headed down to my home state of Georgia to visit my family and celebrate the birthday of a magnificent friend. I will be leaving Friday and come back Sunday.

The lingering warmth

We are a week into Autumn but the warmth of Lady Summer lingers still. It is warm in the house today but still cool enough (by my terms) to wear long pants. Today I wandered down to Karm Thrift Store in Maryville to take a look at the growing number of discounted fall and winter clothing. That was how I found a lovely knit sweater depicting two moose facing each other, bittersweet on cocoa brown.

A good way to start a new week.

Autumn Rain

The first rain of new Autumn falls gentle on the dog wood tree, that sways gentle in the cool breeze that rolls of the mountains.

It trickles over green leaves that looked as if they have been dipped in blood, splashed scarlet by the coming cold.

 It follows smoothly the contours of a hanging acorn, collecting at the point to fall to the dark ground below.

The first autumn's rain falls like a song, tender upon ear and soul.

It is both promise and warning.

It is both living and dying.

Samhain to come, Mabon undone.

There can be no denying.

Throwback Thursday- Fox Kit

Joy at Equinox

Summer has come to an end across the land. Today marks Equinox, the first day of Autumn has arrived. My soul soars high for this my most beloved season but grieves softly for the death of Summer, for he was ever a good lover and friend. Autumn comes on a friend, a riot of joy in saffron, carmine and walnut. All across the back acre, you can smell the sweet aroma of wood fires. The nights grow cool and we turn off the AC in the Clan Home and open all the windows. Many a night this week I have fallen asleep awash in cool Autumn air and I wake to find my hair scented with wood smoke. The taste of apples is sweet and light upon my tongue; soon I will take a knife to my last two pumpkins of the season. One will go in the over, rubbed all over with cinnamon and cane sugar, studded with cloves. The other will have a fearsome face and a candle withn. For the first time in my life, I have the knowledge that I grew my own jack-o-lantern. It fills me with a wild pleasure, mind full of acorns and fire kissed sunsets. The leaves on the dogwood tree, once a tireless green in summer, are now splashed crimson as bright as fresh blood.

I go into Autumn with a chocolate cake sitting on the counter. Today, marks the my husband's 31st birthday and the cake is make for him. Dark chocolate studded with mini chocolate chips, lightly frosted. It is beautiful and I cannot wait for him to get into it.

In small truth because it means I may have a tiny slice.

Tomorrow I must paint a banner for my SCA persona and make a tart for Her Majesty, Queen
of Meridies. I must also look around for my fine art pens which seem to have disappeared magically from my art stack. 

I suspect a toddler is involved and failing that, pixies. 

Silent Sunday

The Princess and I

Happy Birthday, Heart of Home!

September 6th 2015 saw the one year birthday of this blog, Heart of Home: Finding My Homestead.

It has been 365 days since this blog was first created, back in the early part of September 2014. I have just read One Woman Farm again, third time around, when I decided to start writing my story. I toyed with the idea of keeping a leather journal and using a burgundy ball point pen to record the story of moving forward to the homestead. 

I couldn't do that.

I wanted this story to be told to the world because, ultimately, this was about getting others the encouragement they need to change their life. That is exactly what my journey is all about. Changing my life from an endless cycle of grocery stores and blind consumption of what was cheap and empty. It was running away, rightfully screaming for both fear and raw joy, from a concrete jungle and an endless desert of glass and plastic. It was all about getting back to where the cool, wet air was fresh upon my face. It was in the moist earth and bright greens. 

It was about taking back my story book and adding my own colors. 

So this is a celebration of freedom, of finding my heart's desire and peace with nature.

Throwback Thursday: Riley

I got him, Mom. The Air elemental that keeps destroying the living room. I really did get him.

Riley Beau- July 22 2003 (estimated birth) - October 19th 2013

Picture me, if you will, twenty years old and fresh out on my own, $50.00 in my backpack and living two and half hours away from town I grew up in. Living with a boyfriend who went to school full time and worked part time, in a one bath and one bedroom apartment on the west side of Athens, Georgia. 

Its the summer of 2004 and I am so lonely. Its hard to make friends when you don't have car, cannot drive regardless of the first fact and what acquaintances you have made are limited to your boyfriend's friends which make up his various gaming groups. All of which have their 9-5s during the week. 

So very lonely, this twenty year old. 

So I decided to get a dog. My boyfriend was cool with it, so I hoped online to take a look at the local shelter. I found a dog I liked the sound of and went down to check her out. When I arrived, I was informed the dog had already been adopted and taken home. Discouraged, I turned to leave when a volunteer suggested I have a look around anyways. So I did, walking down the rows of pens looking with hopeful eyes. 

It was my ear, however, that lead me to my dog. 

The bay of a purebred Blue Tick Coon Hound is hard to ignore, especially from five feet away. I found him and he was nothing but skin and bones; someone had abandoned him in a locked trailer with only a toilet for water. I am happy to say that well fed he got up to a muscular and powerful 150lbs. He was a beautiful animal, a good friend, a hellish room mate at time but a devoted pet. I miss him every day and still have his dog tag.

I love you, Riley. 

Always. 

Here is to remembering woman's best friend.

A gift of love

Kek

In what we preserve

Preservation. It has been a human practice for hundreds of thousands of years. We save what we have savored; kept close to our hands and hearts are actions that help keep alive our past and present for our future. We protect so that we may partake of  what we need should the winter prove harsh, should the rains not fall, and should death cross our threshold.

Preservation takes the shape of preserves tonight, to save the summer's bounty of blue and blackberries for the winter to come. For the last two days I have simmered fruit in sugar, chilled, then cooked the next day for lovely, thick preserves. I also had a few browned bananas on hand, which I mashed and made into a cinnamon sprinkled banana bread. Nothing goes to waste in this Clanhold. Today was also a chore day, where I take a bowl of white vinegar and wipe down all the cabinets, moldings, and counters in the kitchen. I scrub the tile backwash behind the stove and sweep the floor. I cycle dishes, hand scrubbing the largest bowls and put up the clean ones. I take bacon out to thaw for a quick dinner, including rice and beans. I pour a cider, add a kiss of whiskey and stir one time with a spoon. I settle into the couch for a well deserved evening of relaxation, where the only sounds I hear come from the hum of the cicadas and the soft chewing of a clan mate enjoying supper.

It is something to treasure. It is something that brings peace into this house. A house that is still healing but finds ways to cope a little better each day.

That, at least, is a very good thing. So I will preserve fruit and add a little bit of hope that tomorrow, we'll have a little less pain and little more strength.

The quiet morning time

Since Kieran's bus has decided it will no long drive by our house to pick her up, I have taken to driving her to Rockford Elementary and dropping her off at the bus that goes to the high school. As a result, I have a lot of quiet morning time. Parts of the Clan are at work and some at school, while the others sleep as I write. Pai, the family dog, sleeps by her food dish near the front door and Durellen, the family cat, groom himself at my left elbow. Every so often he will meow and reach out to nuzzle me. He is a very vocal, very affectionate fellow in the morning.

I am 2,648 words into my first novel. Most of what I have written in the past have been purely academic papers and non-fiction. Now I set out to write a dark fantasy  novel that will tell the story of betrayal, war, and survival in the shadow of a ancient curse. I hope that I can do this beloved story, which has been written on my heart and soul for many year, justice. The title of my book is Hound's Autumn; I hope to have 10,000 words by the end of August.

I have a list of errands that need doing today. Hopefully, everything will go smoothly.

Gods willing.

Good Food

Sitting here at my computer, sipping delicious and lightly sweetened Watermelon-Lime sweet tea. A nontraditional flavor to be sure but I savor it like it was a fine French wine. On my lips is the salty-sweet taste of a slow roasted ham, drizzled in local honey and spiced with black pepper. Cooked upon a bed of rice and last night's ground, free range goat. There is no music but the whish-hum of the dishwasher, the slightly vibration of the AC.

In my heart, however, there is a sweet and gentle music. A song that only good food and a good home can provide.

Some days, it is enough. 

Hope Rising

I am very happy to have a bit of good news with all of you. Despite the late running cold weather and the chemical accident involving the train derailment, we will be getting our honeybees. So late in the season we will not have honey until next year but this is a light in a dark time. It brings a smile to my face to know we will have our first producing animals here at the Clan Home soon.

We are blessed.

Time Marches On

I sigh and the house herself seems to breath a sigh with me. It has been a heavy set of days and the needs of the family have overtaken my time. With five additional people visiting in the days after Angela's death, there has been many meals to cook and much house work to stay on top of. Food was made, we have all been taking turns cleaning up after ourselves and my viral bronchitis is almost completely gone. I have made a diet of antibiotics, vitamins, pain killers/fever reducers and vapor rub.  My inhaler has been a god send and I am thankful that my late tax return gave me the resources to visit an after hours clinic when my fever spiked to 102.9 degree.

Time marches on. My body heals and with it, my heart. The pain begins to scab over and I forge ahead. I have cried, grieved and now I must put on a brave face for I have a household to manage and a family to feed. In a minute I will go and unload the clean dishes, dry them and put them up in their respective places. I will put the dirty ones in for cycling and I will wipe down the cabinets with white vinegar. I fold my attention into a batter of needful things to do for the house, for the word has fallen to my hands and I will see it done. Done well and right, as my mother taught me.

In a couple of days, I will go down to a friend's new house to assist with the move in. That will be good work too.

Food to balm the pain

I have been nursing my hurting clan and thus I haven't written for the Heart of Home in a few days. They have needed me and I heed that call. Mostly, I cook. Food has long been the cornerstone of any comfort here in this clan. I roast whole chickens and mushrooms in red wine vinegar. I bake pumpkins drizzled in maple syrup. I bake cakes and soak them in fire whiskey, sprinkle them with powder sugar. I bake apple pies and potatoes with apples, in a glaze of brown sugar and bacon fat. This is how I mellow the pain, by piling the plates high. Stone ground wheat bread lightly toasted with butter, a little vanilla cake on the sideboard.

This is coping. This is peace. Feeding people is love.

And gods above, I love to love.

I called her Moonstone

Angela Renee Wheeler- August 12th 1972 - July 29th 2015

I crouch crippled in the pain of this loss. Moonstone, Phoenix Tears, Angeni, Amber, and so many more names and kenning for you, my fallen Clan sister. You have given me greater gifts than any other, Fire Dancer.  I wish I had told you than before the end. I swear upon your name, Life's Flame, that I will care for Colin, Kieran and Rhiannon, that I will bend back and will to keeping them safe. fed and happy. I will warm this house with the fire you inspired and may the Gods watch over you. To the next turn of the wheel, Ang.

Tennessee is Orange Country

Home Start

This week, I have started something new for my two year old daughter, soon to be three, Rose. Since Rose was born in mid to late August, she will not be old enough in time to begin the Head Start program this year. She will have to wait until next year and then she will be closer to four years old. So I have decided to start something I am calling "Home Start". I don't know much about homeschooling children but since Rose is two, we are working the basics. She already has colors and shapes down (though to tease you she will often tell you everything is "Pink!"). Now we are working on the alphabet, the numbers 1-10, and word association. A is for Apple, B is for Ball, C is for Cake etc.

In addition to reading preschool level books, I am also reading chapters nightly to Rose from "Farmer Boy" by Laura Ingalls Wilder. This is my favorite of the Little House series, though "Little House in the Big Woods" is still near and dear to my heart. Farmer Boy tells the story of nine year old Almanzo Wilder, growing up on his parent's horse farm in New York state. This hungry and energetic young boy will one day grow to become the husband of Laura Ingalls but in this story we find him the youngest of the Wilder family. Surrounded by his two sister, Eliza Jane and Alice, and his big brother Royal, Almanzo finds there is much work but no shortage of larks and lessons to be learned on the farm. For anyone who wants a view into what it means to run a large barn, this is a charming tale of a time long since past.

For Yule 2014, I was giving the Little House Cookbook, which outlines recipes for all the food mentioned in the books. It has instructions for glorious chicken pies, roasted goose and homemade ice cream and taffy candy. Things range in skill level from fried apples and onions to Laura's own wedding cake. As I am in love with the mid and late 1880s, this was the perfect gift for me. One of the recipes I am eager to try is the one for Vinegar Pie. This was a poor man's staple in the late 1880s and I intend to bring it into the foreground for Heroic Interactive Theater's World of Hashonen: Badlands Live Action Role Playing Game that will be starting in August 2015. Just around the corner.

One thing I have fallen in love with since I quit my full time job is all the time I get to spend with Rose. I get to be present for her every new word, every advancement and achievement. Every night I sing "Down to the River to Pray" and "Baby Mine"; each note fills my heart with boundless light. For now Rose and I head outside to check on the garden. It makes me proud that I am raising my daughter to love the earth and care for the plants which give us food. I hope she learns to love the act of farming as much as I have but if the day comes she wishes to fly from agriculture and pursue a city life, I will kiss her cheek and wish her luck. She will always know she can come home to the squash and the mint, to heart, hearth and home.