Honey bees, flowers, trees, gentle rain and home again.

The nucs are on order and the hives are painted, a bright and cherry blue that reminds me of Cookie Monster, fuzzy and covered in crumbs. The cold has broken but there is still a week until Spring and I won't set to seed before I am sure we are clear of a frost threat. My first flowers have bloomed, strange deep purple blossoms with bright yellow-orange pollen. The snow has melted and it its wake, days in the 60s and rain every day. Lovely, gentle sweet rain that makes dark auburn mud and puts smiles on the faces of everyone with a green thumb. The trees are starting to look alive again, budding blood red berries and leaving the pavement looking as if it has been showered in tiny rubies. Another long week of house cleaning is under my belt and now the weekend is mine. Well, maybe it is more honest to say I belong to the weekend. With the Clansmen gone for the weekend, I step firmly into my role as matron, taking charge of the guardianship, protection, law and entertainment of the Clan. What this means is tomorrow I get to get them all in the car, drive to the Y for our exercise hour and then take them all out of pizza to celebrate Pi Day. Would that all people had a Clan, so that they could treat them in turn. Tonight I pass out a cider ration for everyone but the smallest girl child, two at the tender age of two is snug in her bed by 8:30pm with her stuffed shark and a quilt shaped like a giant teddy bear, made by her Grandmother. I sip my Smith & Forge and listen to the gentle rain, let the cider tickle down my throat as if down my weary bones, soothing them.

Home. This is where I want to be. I never say "One day when I don't have to work anymore, I'll stay at home." Mostly because there will never be one day, for the rest of my life, where work will not be an important and needful responsibility of mine. It will also be a circumstance of pure joy, for one day I will work upon the homestead and the only home I will clean is my own. I will milk goats, tend hives, weed gardens and when the pyment is done, drink and dance naked under the moon.

Were you paying attention? *chuckles*

For now, my fine fellows, I tuck into a bed for a little well deserved sleep. Good night and may your Friday 13th be a safe and cautious one.

A love letter for Spring

One gorgeous spike in the temperature had me out in my favorite t-shirt and smiling like a child. It wasn't to last, as the dark clouds rolled in and the cold wind began to race over the land. Tomorrow they are calling for slush, sleet and rain...possibly even snow and I groan. I am so ready for Spring it hurts, aching deep in my bones like a love sick girl waiting for that oh so special phone call. I keep looking to the calender, hoping the passing of days will bring me close to that lovely time of growth I crave so much. I got a Whole Seed catalog last week because

a) I want to plan heirloom EVERYTHING this year

and...

 b) I apparently wanted to punish myself.

It is almost as if my nails are crying out for dirt to be under them, my palms lusting for a fine coating of sod and compost. I can't get watermelons out of my head and if I thought I could, I would happily live off that ruby red flesh for all of the summer and more. I roll out the paper of my heart and heart full of wanting, scribe my desires.

Dear Spring, Heart of my Heart.


I never loved Winter, you must believe me. I wish nothing more than your quick and gentle rain storms, your mud and hazy warm days. Give me red clover, give me tender lettuce shoots and little leaves on Brown Turk fig trees. Spring, baby, come back. You can blame it all on me. Just know that I cannot grow without you. 

Love with dirty hands,
A.N

Snow Days

It's been more than a week since I have been at work. I have come in a grand total of two and half days since. The world is layered in ice, snow, melt, and refreeze. It makes the comings and goings around Knoxville, Tennessee very challenging. Needless to say, I won't be going anywhere this week between the lack of funds and inclement weather.

All that said, do not thank I am not grateful for the snow. This is much needed water soaking back into the Tennessee River basin, swelling the water table and giving some much needed time to think about the future homestead, search for properties and start writing the outline of my book. The Heart of Home blog is a beloved treasure and project of mine but I feel like it can be more. I am taken the first steps toward a true memoir and it is both exciting and daunting at the same time.


It is my hope that everyone who is stuck inside because of the weather has food, water, warmth and light. To all who had to forge out into the snow, I hope your travel is safe and your work not too difficult. We all have miles to go...

And in the mean time, we get GREAT books to get us along. Look what came in the mail! Through the snow storm no less!

The snow glare makes it hard for me to give a great smile but I am so pleased. :D

Looking For A Play To Shine

"Like fireworks, shooting to the sky.
I want to cover the dark with the light.
Like a diamond, sitting on a ring.
I'm just a girl who wants to be seen.
Every time.
I'm looking for a place to shine."

- Looking for a Place to Shine- Clare Bowen as "Scarlett O'Connor", Nashville.


Things I did during Snow Week

* Added four rows and finished my 100% wool scarf.

*Looked at more homesteading properties,.

* Made chocolate nib and almond cookies

*Added four rows to Ryder's baby blanket.

Exhausted from a day of clan activities, I leave you with the above words and hope that your own Clans are well, happy, healthy and safe.


A Happy Sunday to all and to all a good night.

In the land of the cold sunshine

"Under blue and silver sky, far from the sea snow-laden breezes, wild and free
come to do-si-do my love and me
in the land of the cold sunshine

where the highway runs, a scar, right through the snow

every turn a vista or a glittering plateau

we take the high road
through the land of the cold sunshine "
                                                                                                        -S.J Tucker "Cold Sunshine"


Here in Rockford and in all towns of the Tennessee Valley, everything is coated in ice. All the roofs sport icy teeth, all the tree coated limb from limb. It is cold, wind and white. Last night around 8pm we lost power and did not regain it until eight hours later. I awoke at 5am to being bathed in the golden light of my overhead lamp and reluctantly dressed myself to wander downstairs and attend the fireplace. The house was chilly but not badly so. Most of the house is made of red brick and prudence saw that I had turned on my space heater and charged my phone hours before the black out. We were low on candles but this family still manage to turn up five jar candles, one pillar and half a dozen tea lights. I found the old light blub keychain that, thanks to its LED bulb, made for a great little lamp. We made it through with plenty of water and food, if a little less light than we would like. The point was that, even during the black out, we were warm and prepared.

 Thank you Jenna Woginrich for the wonder blog about constructing a black out bag. I will be making one this week. That's Episode 14: Make a Black Out Bag for any who would like to take a peek. You can find her on Youtube or take a look at http://coldantlerfarm.blogspot.com/

I hope you all are snug in your own homes, your animals fed and clan warm by your side. Times like this remind me to be grateful for the comforts of this age but also grateful for the ice that will melt and fill our rivers, lakes and streams. We live in a cycle and this storms is but a part of it. Tomorrow I expect to return to my day job and even work Saturday to make up the hours we have missed. For into the yoke of work I slip my head and shoulders, for there are miles to go and miles on my heart.

Thank You, Postmaster!

Last week the first issues for 2015 New Pioneer and Mother Earth News came to the house. My hours have been filled with pouring over articles and ads, except for the handful I took to leave the house and attend the beautiful wedding of a dear friend, held at a church that was 146 years old. Sitting in that grand, old place I could feel peace in the very wood of pews and looking through the windows wondered if there was a woman who came before me, dark of hair and cool of eye, who sat in that very pew and gazed longingly at the silver sky beyond. Did she ever watch a wedding there, did she smile as her husband held her small, pale hand and did those cool eyes flick down to take in the warm glow of her wedding band? Did she sit their with her mother and father, waiting for the day her sweetheart came back from the war? The church was built in 1869, so did she wait for a handsome and good man in a grey coat to come back through the door. Did any of my ancestors see this church on their way home from the Civil War, did any of their blood stain this southern soil?

Such thoughts come easily to my dreamer's mind. As do Buff Orpington chickens and heirloom seeds, Kiko goats and Katahdin sheep. One day these will be mine, as well as pigs and turkeys. One day, like Jenna Woginrich did, I will find a unicorn in the shadow of my dream horse. Or in the eyes of my mule.

Bad weather is on the way to the Tennessee Valley and it has already dipped to -2 F last night. Today we warmed our tummies with shrimp and grits. I hope all of you out there are keeping warm, have plenty of food and water on hand with shelter for you and your animals. Happy Sunday and stay safe!

Love,
A.N

Sunday Storm Clouds, Sausage and Sweet Times

Storm clouds gather in the horizon as the wind picks up, balmy right now but likely to turn colder as

the hours progress. We take advantage of this mild moment in time to open the partition in the back door and let the temperate air wash over the kitchen and living room. I meant to sleep in this morning but I woke at the same hour I did Saturday when I had chores to do. That's the opulent hour of 8am EST. I know, not the 4am most homesteaders seem to rise and attend their dairy cows and goats. Truth be told, I am not sure when most homesteaders rise in the morning. I imagine it has a lot to do with their work load. Sunday morning finds me taking the trash out, wiping down the counters in the kitchen and cycling the dishes. I thaw some pork sausage patties and links out of the freezer and into the cast iron they go. All of both packages, for even with two of the Clan out of residence we still have six people to feed.

Kieran had a friend some school spend the night yesterday; the girls take up down in in our library and play video games into the wee hours of the morning. I put pork steaks to the cast iron last night for supper, finishing them in the oven with a maple glaze. Black eyed peas and dark red kidney beans went toward making a bean medley, potatoes were smashed with cream and butter. Apple pie was made and set to cool on the side board. I wish I had time to make a quick batch of vanilla ice cream but we drizzle heavy cream on the pie in its stead. All in all, it was a good weekend and here again we find ourselves at Sunday. Here again, once more in to the breach of a new work week. We work so that we may work, words I tell myself often. I work this job of cleaning rich people's houses so that I can someday build my own house. Even now, I am encouraged by Colin to search for the property and I smile to think of green meadows and winding creeks. I also thread my fingers through my night dark hair and sigh, wonder how I am going to make this all work. I put forth all my spoons toward working, writing, hoping, praying for the means to get to the Heart of Home. Heart Journey's end, I call it. For now I continue to work, write and remember to be thankful for the warm lemon tea in my favorite cup, the rich baritone of Stan Rogers in my ears and as I was writing, Colin and Ang returned from their weekend in Gatlinberg. Lemon tea makes me smile as I sip; we are so blessed to have clean water to make sweet lemon. So blessed to have elements in our house to keep it warm and to heart our food. I never forget I have a good life here because it is this part of my life which is laying the groundwork for the life I hope to build on my homestead.

Adventures in Brewing

The Clan is seeing in action my education in brewing. After years of watching Colin bring bottle after bottle of homemade mead and wine to the gaming table, a little seed was planted in the fertile fields of my mind. Those roots reaches down and took hold in my heart. Once the Clan was living all under the same roof, I was presented for the chance to learn to brew. I wished to make a cyser but fate dictated my friend brew child to be a pyment. A pyment is a mead made from both grapes and apples as well as honey. I was pleased to see this past Sunday when we racked the pyment that my six gallon baby had experience a great yeast drop out. This bright gold elixir was the result. This was just a taste cup, a testing to see if the integrity of the fruit aroma had held.

Gods be praised, it did. Though still very young and with a mild yeasty flavor, the pyment smelled wonderfully grape and apple. It tasted like apples hiding under a blanket of grapes and loaves of fresh baked bread. To say I am pleased with the first priming does not cover the scope of how proud I am. This is my brew baby and she's coming along as good as gold.

So the pyment has been racked and now we go for a cool, long secondary. We added honey to the pyment to continue to feed it and soon I will add organic apple concentrate or another organic grape-apple juice. About mid April, we will bottle this pyment and lay it down in a dark, cool place until its ready for my birthday, which is May 18th.

31, here I come!

As a side note, I am proud to announce that is just 24 hours the Heart of Home blog has seen 50 more page views. I cannot tell you how excited when I see that people are reading the blog and how grateful I am that people give me their time to hear my story and view my humble life.

Thank you.

Peace of the Pie

Today the temperature hovered in the mid forties and the sky was clear as crystal, a blue so rich and deep it steals your breath for a moment. It was beautiful and the work hours flew by as I bathed my face and soul in the cold, clean light of the work day. Then, as is the case when pleasure rises too high, a reality sharp and severe pierced the peace of the clan. Though no one was hurt in the accident, the Geo is not in good shape and my niece's plans for escaping to The Classic City for spring break were dashed.

Stress wrapped it's coils tight around the Clan tonight but I find peace in doing something I do best.

Making pie crust. 

Cutting up half a pound of unsalted sweet cream, hard from being chilling in the 7 degree meat freezer, adding in King Arthur All Purpose Floud and shifting through my clean fingers until little flecks of butter was merged with the flour. Chilled water added until everything comes today and boom! Pie crust, enough for two crusts for a 9 inch pie.

Saxon pie graces the table and tummies of the Clan this night and the butter crust reminds me that simple pleasures are simple treasures.

What is your simple treasure that provides for you simple pleasure?

Dreamweaver

"Well I've heard the old folks say "You'll never work a day if you like what you do." And I'd say it's probably true. That the only way to find the path to peace of mind is to follow your heart, right from the start. But it's never been as easy as it seems because it is hard to get ahead when you're chasing someone else's dreams. "

-- "Chasing Someone Else's Dream" by Balsam Range

This song never fails to bring happy and frustrated tears to my green eyes. Happy because it encourages me to keep trying and frustrated because I feel like I am working hard and gain is hard to see unless you are looking carefully. I know we are making progress: every week I give a portion of paycheck to the savings account and Colin always shows me the total when I ask. He has asked me to comply a list of available properties and I have found some promising places. I research goats and sheep both, making plans for Italian honey bees in a few months. A thrill of excitement goes through my blood when I realize the bees I have been talking about all winter will be here soon.

Today when Colin gets back from the store, we shall begin racking my pyment. I am giddy as a schoolgirl to begin this next stage of the brewing process.

I will post pictures of the pyment soon. Until then, Happy Sunday and here is to a another blessed work week.