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.
Monday, October 26, 2015
Thursday, October 22, 2015
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
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.”
Sunday, October 11, 2015
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
Clean Fridge, Clean Heart
 |
| Nothing like a clean fridge to make you feel like you have a clean 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.
Monday, October 5, 2015
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
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.
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
Sunday, October 4, 2015
Friday, October 2, 2015
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.
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.
Thursday, October 1, 2015
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