As the rain cometh

 I was lucky to get Angela, Rose and myself out the door today before afternoon rolled around because that is when it happened. The air went heavy and hushed, the sky to the west began to darken and then before you knew it, it was near purple with the promise of a heavy rain. Yes and then, hard rain it did. Such a hard rain left me with a sleepy contentedness and I set to my work. A beef roast with rustic vegetables; potatoes, carrots and onions in a shallow pool of sherry. Dusted with powered sage, black pepper and sea salt. Dotted with butter. In addition to this lovely main course, I baked three sweet potatoes. My mother, Dolores, would bake sweet potatoes in a shallow pan of water, just enough to loosen their skins. She would cut butter into small pieces and rub into shifted flour. A little cold water later and some handy labor, she would have a pie crust. It would go into a pie plate that had been in our family for at least three generations. I can close my eyes and still feel it in my hands, at the time heavy but warm as a kiss on the cheek. I was a child then but even now as a woman, a wife and mother, I find the perfume of a sweet potato pie to be like a sigh from heaven. A balm to this garden woman's soul.

An hour and twenty minutes later, I sit sipping berry sweet tea, fill a happy belly and an even happier heart. Sitting in the living room, watching Gladiator and planning out more of my garb for my SCA persona. I finally purchased my SCA membership last week and I am steadily fleshing out Octavia Juliana, Roman by way of Byzantine. With luck both her name and arms will be approved, conflict free.

Now my lovelies, I bid you goodnight and sweet dreams. May your week be sweet and full of wonder.

Acceptance

If the garden gods had a common prayer, would it sound like this?


Lords of Green and Gold, give me the will to accept that I shall have losses. 

There will be trials of heavy weather, pests and mildew. There shall be rot. 

There will be great bounty tempered by great failure. To grow organic is to celebrate and to suffer.

Lady of Roots and Leaves, give me the will to accept my bounty with a humble and grateful heart. 

Teach me with dirt caked hands what it means to bring beauty into this world.

To nurture, to grow, to live in a kaleidoscope of verdant pleasures.
For love, for Clan and Community.
Amen.

No Buzz

Sad news for the Heart of Home. Due to this years long freezing period, heavy rains and the chemical spill accident in Maryville this past month, there will be no honey bees this year for my family. This is a heavy blow to both Colin and myself, who were looking so forward to producing our own honey and beeswax. Many fine times have come to the Heart of Home but this circumstance reminds me that joy is always tempered by loss.

And indeed, this is a hurtful loss to the Clan.

It's not all gorgeous pictures, as Jenna Woginrich so aptly put. To homestead is to know joy and pain, those two timeless dance partners.

I heave a heavy sigh and turn my mind back to what I can do. I cannot conjure ideal conditions for honey bees but I can keep guard of my garden, clean the house and make sure the larder is full. Every little bit helps. 

The Love of the Home

7:45am rolls around and I roll out of my bed. My normal wake up time is from 6:00am until 8:00am, depending on what chores need to be done that day. I go and shower, dress and begin the morning ritual. I get my matches and light the candles. One by the front door and one on the windowsill overlooking the sink in the kitchen. One for a prayer of protection for our threshold, the other for a prayer of bounty for our larder. Trash is gathered and taken outside. Normally, Kieran will do this part this task of the household but when I can I pitch in. Water is put in the kettle for tea, a picnic shoulder or whole chicken is taken out of the deep freezer in early preparation for tonight's dinner. Last night I harvest rainbow chard and squash blossoms for the picnic shoulder. I get Rose up around 9:00am and get her changed,dressed and head downstairs to make breakfast. I cut up apples and pour out raisins, toast wheat bread and top it with butter. Then we sit down to watch a Disney movie while we have breakfast.

After breakfast I will start Rose's laundry, sorting between things that are 2T, 3T and 4T. The 2T clothing will go to my niece Addie Rae and Rose will keep the 3 and 4T clothing. I have been setting up Rose's room to look more like a pre-school class room. Since she will not be three until four days after the cut off for Head Start registration, I will be starting what I call "Home Start" here in the Clan home. I have found an alphabet border, Angela gave us animal posters with facts on them and today I will be hanging up a growth chart. We will be converting Rose's crib to a toddler bed soon and I am working on a Bambi quilt to match Rose's pillow case. I will also be hanging a Bambi movie poster in her room.

Tonight I will go out to the garden, wipe down the squash and prune back any runners of weeds. We have fifteen squash total, at least seven of which will undoubtedly survive until harvest down. Two have come off of the vine early and I am attempting to ripen them in accordance to instructions I found of pumpkins. This are Japanese pumpkins and I'm confidant it will work. The squash are continuing toward a dark green color and we have four that have turns a bright orange.

Also, our Brown Turk fig tree is growing steadily. I will have to transport it out of its pot and into soil soon.

Since I left the Maids, I have been able to turn my heart and attentions back into the home. This includes many things; upkeep of the house and its cleaning, food preparation and storage, laundry, caring for children and pets, and enjoy extra time with my husband. Words cannot express how good it is to have this time, to turn my focus back toward the home. It is work and it is a blessing.

Silent Sunday

A short bed time story

Camouflage Yarn ( 100% Acrylic) and hunter green yarn (100% Cotton)

 It started out a simple chain of lime green links and then soft sage green was added to the line. Both of the lime green yarn and the sage green yarn, which almost looks green-yellow in the picture below, were made of 100% virgin wool. This yarn was a gift from a kind man at my first SCA event. I worked on it on and off for weeks, usually right before bedtime and sprawled across my pewter comforter. What was suppose to be a baby blanket got away from me however. 

I'm not sure what happened but somewhere along the way I stopped paying attention and let my fingers do the decision making. What I am making now is sized more to fit a full sized bed. I hope my sister will forgive me when I gift to her; what was meant for a 9 month old infant now could snuggle both him and his almost 6 year old brother. Maybe it was the universes way of telling me that Megan needed something to keep her warm in the face of the coming winter. Half of the year is over and I am turning my mind toward afghans, quilts and scarves. 

Not too shabby for being half way done.

 Winter might seem like a long way off but my mind lingers on him. I remember him when the cold air rolls off the mountain and the rain comes. I feel his touch linger like that of a lover and like a lover, I prepare myself for him.  With half the year already gone, I feel like must get a leg up on Winter. That means checking on the garden more, preserving food and spending a lot of time on the bed, crochet hook in hand.

For all of my readers here at home, Happy 4th of July. Today our country's independence will be celebrated with apple pie fresh from the oven, homemade ice cream. A special ice cream I created myself called "North meets South". It is a sweet cream ice cream of maple syrup and brown sugar. Just right for a golden apple pie. I raise my glass to that, to simple pleasures and the freedom of a nation of such startling beauty and fearsome power.

Scrappy

Dawn this day was ushered in by a most clamorous thunderstorm will full accompaniment of rain. I was pleased to see the rain but my pleasure for my garden slightly soured after a trip to the gas station.

"May I have fifteen dollars of gas on pump number four?" I ask, pulling a twenty from my pocketbook.

"Pump four?" the attendant asks. I nod and half turn, pointing out the window at my car.

"Yes sir, the silver Saturn." I said with a smile. I love my Orchid. She's a tough old gal, seen many miles between Illinois, Kentucky and Tennessee. She's seen me through Knoxville down toward Asheville, to Atlanta and back through Chattanooga. So imagine my shock and no small amount of anger when the man behind me in line chimes in.

"That silver Saturn was your first mistake, sweetheart."

Bristling hotly I marched out of the Marathon, barely smoldering a look that could curdle milk. No, Orchid is hardly new. She is a 1997, seen hard use but still gives it her all on every trip to work, grocery store, home town or festival. She's not my baby, she is my partner. She has never been nor never will be a mistake.

Yes, my car is scrappy. She's seen her youth come and go, is a little duller around the edges of her silver coat and could use some work. However this car has seen me safely to work and back from the Peach state. She has kept me dry in rainfall, warm in winter and cool in summer. She provides comfort and safety. In short, she is amazing and no one has the right to criticize her.

Here in the Heart of Home we thrive on scrape. Little ends of fabric are collected for future quilting projects, ever last bit of our dried herbs are packaged away for seasoning powder, jelly and pickle jars are washed and peeled of their labels to be reused for homemade spreads. We do with what we have, buying only when we truly must the majority of the time. We are putting aside money for a life not yet achieved but longed for. Not yet secured but sought after with a sweet desire. This is not a life of luxury. We do not sip 1888 Chardonnay from crystal goblets; most of the Clan is happy to nab a frosted mason jar from the deep freezer and pour themselves sweet tea. This is a life of many everyday pleasures cleverly quilted into the frame of work. We don't mind a little mud on our boots, a little pain in our step or the odd grey hair. it is all part of our journey toward our homestead. It isn't fancy, it isn't easy, it isn't fashionable. It is hard, rough, wearisome, wonderful, beautiful and enduring.

It is also scrappy and thus, it is the way this journey was meant to begin. We have no illusions of grandeur here. Only the simple knowledge that a beautiful life is one well worked. Cosmetic finery will ever pale before ethic and competence here.

Yes, scrappy will do fine.

Just another ordinary miracle today

There is such a great beauty in the simple roundness of kabocha squash, also known as the Japanese pumpkin. The larger two in this photo are the oldest in the bed but all the squash will remain on the vine until the fall. This way they will sweeten considerable and the kabocha's thick rind protects it from dropping temperatures. It is a very hardy winter squash. The entire clan has been pleased by their aggressive growth and a quiet pride glows in my heart to see the squash flourishing.

As we near Independence Day, I make several plans for the holiday. One is to break ground on the winter garden, harvest a small load of herbs from the summer garden to dry for herb pillows, make a quart or more of North Meets South: our maple syrup and brown sugar ice cream, and smoke half a bacon wrapped turkey smothered in bbq sauce. More about the turkey is to come, later in the week.

For now, my lovelies, I shall close. I am tucking in early with a blanket and another episode of Ken Burn's  documentary "The Civil War." It is enough, after a long work day, to be surrounded by ordinary miracles. These are the moments when blessings abound.

The charm of 1884; Welcome to Badlands

My costume attempt, complete with cameo at the throat, of the well to do farm wife of 1884.

Long have I been fascinated by the life of women between 1776 and 1890. I often tell people that I was born in the wrong time, about 100 years too late. 1884 would have been a good alternative birth year for me and I would have hoped to be named "Anne". This red plaid shirt is actually the first of many pieces that will go toward my Badlands character outfit. World of Hashonen: Badlands is a Weird West Larp run by my friends Buddy and Melissa Landreth.

Colin and I will be running their saloon when the game starts, providing historically accurate food and drink to enhance character immersion. It is important we bring the true face of the West to our players. Creating a picture that looks almost like a tintype from the Civil War era shows just a little of how excited I am for this game. Badlands opens for play in August of 2015. Clink the link below for more information about the setting and check our the calender for future event dates.

World of Hashonen: A Heroic Interactive Theater Chapter

Here is also a link directly for the Message Forum. http://hashonen.com/forums/index.php

I may as well try and catch the wind

Glen Campbell's words ring so true in the humidity and echoes of this hazy summer evening. I reach for understanding and mutual respect. What I feel instead of a firm and equal hand shake is more of a fierce burst of northerly gale.

Without poetry or apology, I am putting in my two week's notice in with my current job. It is time to move on and I have delayed. No longer will I do so. I will put it in on Tuesday, which will be my one year to the date day.

I look toward the things the house needs and a part time position that will still bring cash flown into the household. More time with my daughter eases the pang of disappointment settling in my gut. This isn't a story full of rainbows, kittens and endless sunny days. Sometimes the rain must come.

Even so, I will cherish this rain.

Even as there is rain, there is a ray or two of sunlight.

When I was in Georgia this last weekend for Father's Day I got to see my nephew Eli and my niece, Addilyn Rae.  These was my sister Kim's children and I love them so much my heart aches. The warmth that fills my heart when I see these children, who are just some of the Hood family bloodline, is enough to sooth most emotional hurt.

More to come in the Heart of Home. Stay tuned as we get back to squash gardening and show you a great way to use squash blossom. Yes, another Heart of Home recipe is in tehe works. Hint: This one will require dry active yeast.