fresh herbs

I love herbs. Just about every one I've ever met. At our last home, I had a nicely established little herb garden, with chives, oregano, lemon balm, mint, lavender, tarragon, chamomile, lovage, and probably a few more. Which was in just a few raised beds by our  back door, along with vegetables and whatever else I could squeeze in during the growing season - you really don't need much space to grow a lovely assortment. Herbs are amazing - they have fantastic health benefits, are such a pleasurable sensory experience to grow and harvest and use, and they add so much flavour to food. I also love how steeped in history they are and used for centuries as medicine. I remember being enthralled with Ophelia's herb deliveries in Hamlet when I was in high school.

I divided most of the herbs from the other house and plunked them here and there around this new place last summer. Frankly, I can't remember where I even put some of them. I'm looking forward to the surprise this spring. I do know where I put the tarragon, though, and it should soon be out from under the snow. It was a rough winter, and I hope that it made it through. Don't tell the others, but tarragon is my very favourite one. I did a little hunt for the chives (I think they're by the well) yesterday, but no luck yet.

View fullsize

At this time of year, and all through the winter, though, there are only a couple of ways to have fresh herbs. I dry a lot that I grow outside during the summer, and will probably post about that in July, but after the last fall harvests, fresh is harder to come by. I usually buy parsley, rosemary, and thyme in little pots at the grocery store. They go on sale 2 for $4 at Sobeys every now and then, and I can usually manage to keep them going through the winter and spring. For herbs I can't buy actively growing, I check the fresh herb bunches in the produce section at the Superstore, and buy sage, rosemary, and mint when they're half price and discounted for quick sale. (But check carefully to make sure they're not too far gone.) If I don't use the whole batch fresh, I dry the rest either by hanging, laying to dry on a paper towel, or in the dehydrator. I'm currently trying to root some mint stems from a fresh grocery store bunch with mixed success. I stripped the leaves and dried them for tea, after washing them well, of course. I just tucked them in a pot with a houseplant, and am planning to start the county's largest mint patch this summer. Partly for the bees, partly for me. 

View fullsize

If you buy the fresh bunches at the grocery store, there's actually quite a bit stuffed into those little packages. I have some tarragon and sage on the windowsill, and I love just grabbing a few leaves here and there to munch on or toss into something I'm concocting. I'm hoping that the sage stems will root; I don't think the tarragon will.

Along with providing flowers for the bees when they're grown outside, herbs are useful for all sorts of things. Rosemary, sage, bee balm, and yarrow deter deer in the garden. (I'll have the chance to test that out here at the farm where there are plenty of deer!) My favourite way to use them is to make teas - just toss a bunch of leaves of whatever you have on hand into a pitcher and infuse water to drink through the day, or use boiling water if you'd like something warm. A sprig of rosemary in homemade lemonade is dreamy. Mint and lemon balm are one of my favourite tea combinations. Chopped tarragon goes so well with eggs or potatoes, and thyme and chicken are a match made in heaven. Any combination chopped and tossed with vegetables then roasted will probably be awesome. And a sage leaf (dried or fresh, but fresh is less poky) placed on a canker sore will help it to heal.

I could go on and on (and I already have) - in a nutshell, herbs make my life better. I'm planning a broccoli quiche for this weekend (I think I'm on a quiche kick now) and I'll definitely be tossing some tarragon in there.

*

In other news, P has had a fever for a few days, and is pretty pitiful. I've somehow managed to avoid the variety of germs that has been circulating around this house, and I'm hoping that continues. Some bee supplies arrived today (wheeeeeee!) and I heard the weaker hive humming when I checked on them yesterday. For once, the wind was calm enough that I could hear them. We have a busy weekend including a little party for T who turned 5 this week (!) and I'm hoping to squeeze in some yoga. Since the 30 Days of Yoga in January, I've continued on, but not nearly as regularly. I miss it!

Happy weekend!

Tomato, Kale and Feta Quiche

I don't think I've ever made quiche before. Which is funny for a few reasons: 1) because we have chickens and usually plenty of eggs on hand and 2) because I loooooove quiche. I had some luxurious, blessedly peaceful alone time this week while Adam took the boys to his parents', which left me with time and energy to experiment a bit. As is my usual recipe methodology, I read a dozen recipes, picked and chose what I liked from them, and this is what I came up with, using ingredients I had on hand. And it was sooooooo good! Hot, warm, or cold; for breakfast, lunch, or supper - add a little salad on the side and you're good to go. I posted a picture on Instagram after I made it and had an instant request for the recipe, so here it is. 

View fullsize

Tomato, Kale and Feta Quiche

For the crust:

• 1 1/4 cups flour
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 1/2 cup salted butter, cold
• 1/4 cup ice water

Combine flour and salt in a bowl. Cube the butter, and blend into the flour until crumbly. I use a pastry blender, but quick hands work well, too - you don't want to linger too long or the butter warms and your crust can get gummy rather than beautifully flaky. Once it's uniformly crumbly, add in the ice water, and mix until it comes together. Don't be too enthusiastic or rough - you want it to just come together. Press into a disc and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes, and up to three days.

For the filling:

• one yellow onion, finely chopped
• one smallish bunch of kale, ribbed and finely chopped
• 1 1/2 cups cherry tomatoes, halved
• 1/2 cup feta cheese, crumbled
• 6 eggs 
• 1/2-3/4 cup cream (the creamier the better)
• salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 375. You'll need a large, deep-dish pie plate for this quiche; you could probably also use a baking dish of some other shape or a deep cast-iron pan. (I have a fantastic stoneware pie plate that I bought at a house party several years ago, and I loooooove it.) Roll out your dough (always roll in the same direction; a trick I learned from Martha, and it works so well!) until it's large enough to fit your dish. Lay it out on the pie plate, trimming the edges and moving around any extra bits and generally making it even and decent and sturdy and crimping or pressing the crust to make a firm edge. Lay a piece of parchment paper cut into a larger round over the crust, and fill with pie weights or dried beans. (This blind-baking will ensure a crispy crust that doesn't get soggy, and the pie weights help the crust to keep its shape.) Bake for 20 minutes, until edges are lightly golden. Meanwhile, sauté the onion until translucent and softened, about 5 minutes. Toss in the kale, and cook, covered, stirring every now and then, until it wilts - just a couple of minutes. Toss in the cherry tomatoes to warm and soften a bit, and remove from heat. In a bowl, combine the eggs and cream, and whisk until combined. Gently stir in the feta and a generous dose of salt and pepper. Remove the beans or pie weights from the crust. Add the kale, onion and tomato to the crust, spreading evenly. Then pour the egg mixture over the top, jiggling a bit to make sure it distributes through the filling evenly. Bake for approximately 45 minutes, until the middle of the quiche is set. Enjoy!

You can totally modify this to use up whatever you have on hand. I really like the sweet juicy pop of tomatoes; they'd be very good combined with salty parmesan and any other green, like spinach or swiss chard. You could add a bunch of chopped herbs (tarragon is my favourite!) to the eggs. You could use bacon and cheddar and caramelized onions. I think a salty cheese, nice texture-y vegetable (kale or broccoli - something with bite) and something sweet-ish (tomatoes, caramelized onions) is the perfect combination. Have fun!

sunrise

It feels as if I'm almost physically drawn into each sunrise I witness. They're each so different, but are also the same, each ushering in a new day. Surrounded on all sides by the gorgeous gradations of colours, from peach and orange and yellow to pink, blue, and purple - they're ephemeral and if you miss your chance there will always be tomorrow, but it won't be the same. This one was particularly stunning. 

*

Just to add a touch of reality, when I caught a glimpse of this, yesterday, I tore downstairs in my pyjamas, threw on my hunter orange (sexy!) toque and barn boots, grabbed the camera and zipped my coat on the way out the door, bite plate still in my mouth. I had to walk a "little ways" (is that an expression used elsewhere?) down the road to get an unobstructed view, and perched up on a snowbank to take a few pictures. It was a lovely way to start the day. Today, on the other hand, is yet another snowy, windy winter storm. I'm so glad that I went out to see this when the opportunity presented itself. 

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

groundbreaking news (pun emphatically intended)

Today, March 16, 2015, on the south side of our house, I witnessed the most beautiful and hopeful sight imaginable. Despite the three-inch-thick layer of ice on parts of the yard and driveway, the heaps of dirty snowbanks and forecast for more snow tomorrow - I'm holding on to this!

the hives

View fullsize

We set up two bee hives last summer, and it has been such a pleasure to look after them. (That's the understatement of the year!) During the summer, it's quite a different scene from all of the snow and cold we've dealt with recently. 

To be fair, Adam has done most of the bee work. He wrapped the hives in styrofoam held snug with bungee cords, and it seems to have worked like a charm to keep them warm. During the winter, the bees cozy up in the hive, snack on their honey stores, and hopefully stay warm enough to make it through until spring. So far, so good - there are signs of life in both hives. We left them all of their honey last year, and are hoping to get a bit of a harvest this year. During the winter, some bees emerge on sunnier days, but can't survive for long. Also, they clean out their dead - they push them outside of the hive. So there's a bit of a bee graveyard in front of the hives right now. With all of the snow we've had, we've been scraping and brushing the snow and ice away from the entrances so they can have proper ventilation.  And did you know that bees won't poop in the hive? It's true!

Do you remember this colour called green? It's vibrant and alive and not connected to boots and scarves. This was at the end of June, on the day we set up the hives. 

View fullsize

I posted at the end of last summer: "I knew that it would be cool to have bees. I knew that I would be completely enthralled with them and have a sense of responsibility to my tens of thousands of fuzzy little wards. But what I didn't expect was how mindful I'm forced to be when doing the inspections. I can't be holding a frame of brood covered in hundreds of moving bees and looking for nearly-invisible eggs while checking texts or making a grocery list. The mindfulness is its own reward; the experience is such a fulfilling and pleasurable sensory experience that it would be a shame to be distracted. The hum of the bees working away at their tasks, the beauty of light reflecting on a nectar-filled cell, the stickiness of honey and wax covering fingertips, and of course the taste of honey are as rewarding as collecting a harvest from the vegetable garden. But my favourite is the scent - something elusive about the combination of warm moving bee bodies, smoke, honey, and wax is completely intoxicating."

View fullsize

And today, I miss the bees! I can't wait to get in there when it warms up and see what's taken place over the winter. I'm really hoping that they can survive these last few weeks and build up their populations over the summer. I catch myself daydreaming about sitting by the hives on a summer day, just watching them coming and going while contemplating life. (There is no better way to spend an hour in the summer, except maybe if the chickens wander over, too, or if there are friends visiting too.) 

I had a wild dream recently about capturing a swarm by somehow attaching a queen to my back, and I was so *so* happy, running around in the midst of a cloud of bees. A quick search tells me that bees in a dream symbolize wealth, good luck, harmony, creativity, and bliss. I'll take it!

the light

View fullsize

One of many favourite things about this little white farmhouse is the light. On sunny days, the light starts dancing its way through with the first slivers peeking through the dining room windows. Midday, it's reflected and bounced around these white walls so every corner is illuminated. With snow covering everything outside, it's amplified even more. I actually washed dishes wearing sunglasses the other day - happy as a clam and soaking up the sun. When the leaves are out on the row of chestnuts out front and the snow has been replaced with gorgeous green grass, everything will take on slightly different hues, and I love those subtle shifts that make up the rhythms of the year.

This was all very deliberate. With the extent of the renovations (essentially gutting the whole house) we had the luxury of taking out walls here and there and opening the space up, and I was daydreaming about how lovely the light would be here or there at different times of day well before the first wall came down.  And I'm so happy with the results.

*

Speaking of light, the clocks go ahead this weekend! I am so very, very excited about evening light, even if it does interfere (which it will) with sleep patterns for a little while.

I hung a little prism (from a broken Christmas ornament, oddly enough) in the south dining room window. It's one silly little thing that I've done which I delight in on every sunny day as rainbows move around the room. (That's Thomas' police car in its parking space.)

View fullsize

Perfect Brownies

Sometimes (often) there are new things that I'm super excited about trying or making or learning... and sometimes I just feel tired of winter and want something that's guaranteed, simple, and delicious. I have a handful of recipes that meet this criteria, some of which I've shared before on the old blog and I'll revisit with updates in this new space. These have been my go-to brownies for a several years, and are definitely worth sharing.

I can throw these together as I'm making a meal when last-minute company is coming over, as I did one day last week. They can easily be made gluten-free, and they require nothing that I don't usually have on hand. In fact, they're just about perfect. In the picture  above, they're frosted although they don't really look it - the frosting does this neat thing where it kind of blends in to the brownies when they're warm and then forms this thin and perfect slightly crackled crust on top. The original recipe is here. I recommend making this 8 inch pan batch if you're like me and will eat them all if left alone with them. The recipe can also be doubled and baked in a 9x13, but watch for the edges getting overdone. You could lower the heat slightly to bake them a bit more slowly.

Perfect Brownies

• 1/2 cup butter
• 1 cup granulated sugar
• 2 eggs
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 1/2 cup flour (one gluten-free alternative I've tried that works is a mix of almond flour and rice flour; I've also done blends of almond and millet, or a GF mix would work, too)
• 1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1/4 teaspoon salt (a bit more if your butter is unsalted)
• 1/4 teaspoon baking powder

For the frosting:

• 3 tablespoons softened butter
• 3 tablespoons cocoa powder
• 1 tablespoon honey or maple syrup
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 1 cup icing sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour an 8 inch square pan. In a large pot, melt 1/2 cup butter. Remove from heat, and stir in sugar, eggs, and 1 tsp vanilla. Stir in 1/3 cup cocoa, flour, salt, and baking powder. Spread batter into prepared pan and bake for 30 minutes.

While they're baking, combine the remaining ingredients in a bowl to make your frosting. I find a fork works best; the frosting will be pretty thick. I daub it all over the brownies while they're still warm, and then use a butter knife or offset spatula to spread it around and connect the daubs. 

Enjoy!

*Edited to add: I'm so sorry - I somehow left out typing in the cocoa powder in the batter part! Oh, I hope no one had any failures due to my oversight. Sorry about that!

snow

I mentioned in one of my last posts that branches from flowering trees or shrubs can be cut, placed in water, and they'll bloom inside - it's really that easy. So I thought that rather than a picture of snow, I'd channel spring with a forced quince bloom. You can do this with forsythia, apple, plum, quince, cherry - it's such a nice tiny thing to do. They bloom in a week or two - it depends on the type of plant it's from.

You'll understand the importance of such gestures if you've been anywhere remotely close to this corner of the world over the past month or so. This is a brief summary of what you'd hear in passing: 

"Snow, blah blah, snow, snow, storm, winter, snow, shovel, snow, blah blah."

View fullsize

March is just around the corner, and I don't know how those first snowdrops are going to fare, covered in a few feet of snow. (I don't mean to minimize the snow thing - it's a big deal. Check this out. It's not quite as bad as that locally, but you get the idea.) So I will leave it at this - we've had a lot of snow lately, and people are dreaming of spring. Or heading South.

The "blah blahs" in those conversations could easily be filled in with laments about how everyone seems to be sick with some unpleasant winter malady. In our house, we've had many doctor visits over the past few weeks for the boys and their ears. P started a new antibiotic (small cringe with a shiver of thankfulness for our great doctor and that they're available) and hopefully he'll be on the mend very soon.

*

Adam and I need to sit down and plan the gardens for this year and order some seeds. We'll likely order from Annapolis Seeds, and get some from our farmer's market. We'll use some leftovers we have, and buy some heritage starts locally as we did last year. I feel like we're late, but I'm planning to direct sow everything I'm responsible for. I've never had much luck starting seeds indoors. I did plant some garlic in the fall, and transplanted some of the herbs that we had at the other house. I will need some new rhubarb, definitely, and want to plant calendula (why have I never planted it before?!) We'll also have to contend with deer here, which will be a challenge, I'm sure.

I'm also dreaming of all of the beautiful new hens I'd like to add to my flock this spring. Like most things, I'll research everything voraciously and in a scattershot sort of way, then just decide at the last minute what to do. I do enjoy my brown layers - they're great producers, cute as anything, and friendly. But wouldn't some blue and green and pink eggs be lovely? We currently have 13 ladies, and I think we'll increase the flock to 24. Or maybe 30. 

And the bees! I've been digging them out after every snowfall (and maybe talking to them a bit through the ventilation holes), and they're still going in there. I can't wait to open the hives up when it finally warms up in a few more months. I hope they have enough honey in there to get them through.

The countdown to spring is on!

winter tips and a lotion recipe

So there's this thing called winter that we've been experiencing lately, and I'm among the minority of people who actually enjoy it. Especially this year, since we have snow that is staying on the ground! (With plenty more to come over the next several days.) The chickens won't go out in it, but we had a few families over on the weekend for some sledding on the hill to the barn. There was a campfire by the pond, people brought snacks, and the kids had an amazing time. We roasted bread, which we then spread with butter and sprinkled with cinnamon sugar; we took pots of hot chocolate, marshmallows and whipped cream down and set up a little snack station - it was superb. So much of this life is about embracing what we cannot change.

I have a few other strategies that I'm convinced help to make these Canadian winters more enjoyable. I'm no doctor, so you might want to check with yours before employing these, but they seem to work for me.

• vitamin D (1000IU) every day
• fish oil supplement
• echinacea at the first hint of a cold (I recently tried a liquid tincture from Yarmouth Natural this last time I was starting with a stuffy nose, and it worked like a charm. Pricier than capsules, but effective.)
• drink, drink, drink - I drink over 2L of water in some form every day. Straight water, tea, more tea, another cup of tea - it also helps to keep me warm
• citrus - I especially love grapefruit
• make plans to see and interact with other humans
• (edited to add this one) a really warm coat, snow pants, hat, and mittens + time outside. (No one's paying me, but my Columbia Omni-Heat coat has made winter SO much better. It's super thin and light, comfortable and super warm. I seriously didn't know that winter coats could actually keep me comfortable!)

My skin doesn't take so kindly to the shifts from dry, static-y indoor heat to -23 windchills outside, like we've had this week and last. The fish oil helps, but I do get dry and uncomfortable. This lotion is pretty, it's inexpensive to make, it's quite simple, and super satisfying to whip up. It makes a fairly large batch, so you'll have some to give to your equally dry and uncomfortable friend. I originally posted it on my previous blog where it was one of my most popular posts; this is a slightly updated and more detailed version.

Winter Skin Lotion

Makes approx. 2 cups of lotion, and can easily be doubled or halved.

• 4 tbsp beeswax pastilles (this makes a thick lotion; grated beeswax would make it a little bit thinner. You can control the thickness by adjusting the amount as needed)
• 8 oz olive oil (or other oil, depending on your skin type - grapeseed oil is a lighter option. I find extra virgin is a bit too salad-y smelling for lotion; you can just pick up regular olive oil or use another neutral liquid oil from the cupboard)
• 4 tsp coconut oil
• 8 tbsp water
• essential oils, if desired

Melt beeswax in a double boiler. I simply use a glass measuring cup reserved for lotion and soapmaking in one of my stainless steel pots. Add coconut oil when the beeswax is almost entirely melted. Warm the olive oil briefly on the stovetop or in the microwave, just so it's slightly warm and not cold (cold oil will cause the beeswax to re-harden and the mixture to cloud, which isn't the end of the worls but does slow down progress). Add the olive oil to beeswax and coconut oil, and stir until everything's liquified, no longer.

Remove from heat. I usually let it sit for a few minutes to cool slightly, because it's very hot. Use an immersion blender and blend while slowly drizzling in the water. Make sure to keep the blades submerged in the lotion to avoid splatters. Continue mixing for another minute or so, scraping down the sides as needed. The lotion will be quite hot and runny at this point, but will thicken as it cools. Blend it a bit every now and then as it's cooling. After it's cooled, you can add essential oils by stirring in several drops and mixing well. I love this as an unscented lotion for the boys and myself, especially since I work in scent-free schools. The texture is lovely, and on the thick side, so it's not well suited to pump bottles. Scoop or pour into jars or bottles. I prefer a shallow wide mouth jar with this lid. I hope that you enjoy it!

*

Alternately, you can rub a few drops of straight olive oil into your skin after showering, or a wee bit of coconut oil, which will melt. It's less complicated, and gives similar results. 

the pond

There's a pond down by the barns that I love. There was a pair of ducks who visited it frequently during the summer and fall, and more than once scared the living daylights out of me as I walked down to the chickens. Bright blue dragonflies dart across the surface catching their meals on lazy summer days, and the reflection of the trees and sky in it are splendid. This winter, we've been waiting and waiting (there appears to be an underground spring that keeps it thawed much longer than seems reasonable) - and it finally froze solid and smooth and perfect for skating. 

View fullsize

View fullsize

I remember in late August, the week that we moved in, standing upstairs looking down at the pond, surrounded by boxes and thinking "I can't wait to see the boys skating down there." Adam had them out on a snow day earlier in the week while I was at work, and he captured these beautiful pictures of them having a great time. T (in red) was exhausted (he's had a cold and was really tired that day) but refused to stop and rest. P (in blue) practiced and practiced and was pleased as punch with his progress.

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

I remember many, many happy hours of skating with my sister on our pond when I was a kid (and making up routines to "I Just Called to Say I Love You"). When they're adults, I wonder what they'll tell us that they remember. 

the back field

The 'back field', as we call it, features prominently in our daily routine. Deer are often at the edge of the trees in the evening (I'm asking you very politely, deer, to not eat my tulips in a few months - thanks) and it's just nice to rest one's eyes on a field, you know? Several times a day, you'll find one of us or another looking westward, seeing what there is to see. And the view is always just a bit different than last time. Yesterday as snow was falling quickly and blowing sideways, the treeline was completely obscured. This was taken just a few minutes ago after I finished up a bit of shovelling. 

View fullsize

I also spied a bit of nature's velcro, waiting to hitch a ride on someone's pantleg, or fur. There is so much beauty in the winter, and I love how subtle and still it is. 

*

Thanks so much for all of the sweet comments on my last post - it's difficult to put into words quite how my brain works, but it's good exercise, I've decided. 

delight

Preamble: I'm a really happy person. It's partly just how I am, and partly because I work on it all of the time. I'm regularly told when people notice this, and I'm always kind of stuck for what to say - part of me wants to totally share my heart and sit down and talk for days about happiness, and another part of me recognizes that that might not be completely appropriate in the moment. So this seems like as good a venue as any to share a bit of myself. 

I try to walk through this world with my eyes and heart open to all of the loveliness that there is; in other words, taking delight in as much as I can. There are a few things that are a guaranteed delight to just about anyone, which is why they're clichés - sunsets, baby smiles, rainbows, and the like. (There's a reason why clichés are clichés, and for the record, I approve 100% of baby smiles.)

I think of delight being much the same as gratitude, I just think of it as a shallower, more sensory version. For example, when I walked back to the lake at sunset last week, I delighted in the sun on the ice, the gradations of colour in the sky, the freezing air in my lungs. At the same time, I felt a full-hearted sense of gratitude that I was given that moment in time to be there to appreciate it. That overwhelming sense of connection to this messy, beautiful, heartbreaking world is such a gift.

Like gratitude, which needs to be exercised, I think that there's a delight muscle which needs the same - the more you notice and appreciates those sensory experiences, the more things you'll find there are to notice. In fact, you'll find yourself looking for them. The best part of the process of noticing is to find those things that most especially make your heart swell. Not the things that you think you should love, but the things that you really, truly do. 

View fullsize

For me (no surprise here), one visual delight is the shape of a fluffy-bottomed hen when it is pecking and holding this precise shape. Collecting a warm egg is another. And every. single. thing. about keeping bees. The scent, the hum, the colour of the comb and honey, the taste - sitting and watching them come and go on a sunny summer day will change you. (Feel free to pop over for your free therapy this summer.)

View fullsize

The icy blue-greys and winter light particular to this season in this part of the world - so, so lovely, and another delightful thing to appreciate.

And then there's baking bread, cooking a meal, knitting, splitting wood, gardening - doing all of these highly sensory things can drastically affect your mental state. Seriously - read this article about cooking classes as part of treatment for patients dealing with mental illness. Too much time in our own heads and thoughts, looking at screens rather than engaged with and connected to our bodies, surroundings, and other people can't be good for us. So here's my encouragement for you to do with as you will - do a yoga practice with an online video this weekend. (Or even better, attend a class!) Cut some forsythia, apple, or quince branches to bring inside - pop them in water and they'll bloom. Make soup, or go for a walk, play in the snow, hug your chickens, or do whatever gives you that sensory delight. Fly tying, running, swimming - whatever it is, make it a priority. 

All of this to say that I am so very, very happy, content, glad, thankful, joyful and full of gratitude and appreciation that we get to live here at Wellington Farm, and that's part of what I want to share here. I also happen to think that delight is contagious, and I'm doing my best to spread it around.

a boy and his art gallery

Our youngest son, T, is almost five. During these past few stormy days, he has discovered the wonder of being able to transfer the ideas in that marvelous imagination of his onto paper. When I suggested that we hang some of his pieces on the wall in the dining room, his face lit up. "It can be my art gallery!" So he decided that the rest of us could work for him - his older brother P and I helped to label and hang them, and I think Adam gets to clean up. P had his own gallery when he was around the same age, here.

Later on, T realized that he had forgotten to make an open / closed sign. He sat in the dining room by himself for several minutes. From other rooms, we could hear "O-pen. O-o-o-o. That's O! Peh-peh-peh. P! Mama, what makes the 'eah' sound? E! Nnnnnnnn. That's N!" And an extra M - "that was an accident." The reverse says "C-L-O-Z-D". Oh, my heart.

Above, you can also see "a moon and stars all around it" on the left, "rocket ship" at the top right, "a person wearing mittens and playing in the snow with a mouse who has three tails" (a personal favourite), and "magic b balls" at the bottom.

View fullsize

Barn.

View fullsize

A piece of wood with nails in it.

View fullsize

Twigs.

View fullsize

evening

As soon as I arrived home after work today, I changed my socks, layered up and headed outside. Adam had the boys at basketball, and it took a bit of convincing myself that it would be better to get some fresh air than staying inside in a quiet house and cleaning. After a very sweet visitor dropped off a lovely gift (Weck jars! Kombucha SCOBY! She knows me well - thanks so much, V!) I grabbed the camera and headed through the woods and to the lake for the evening's show.

View fullsize

The woods were lovely, dark and deep, the air frigid and invigorating, quiet and still. And the sun put on quite a show, as did the moon. And to think that I might have missed it while washing dishes or vacuuming.

View fullsize

View fullsize

around the house

To make a very long story significantly shorter, we're now living in our almost-totally renovated dreamy little white farmhouse in rural Nova Scotia, with 40 acres of perfection surrounding us. Everyone loves a good house tour, and I had grand ideas of posting perfectly tidy, perfectly lit pictures throughout the house. But since this is real life, I arrived home after work one afternoon this week when the sun was actually shining, grabbed the camera, and took a bunch of pictures during those few minutes. I kept my coat on - I was afraid that the sun would disappear behind a cloud and I might miss some of that gorgeous light if I paused to take it off. So take off your coat and come on in - this is a little taste of how you would find our house on a random afternoon.

View fullsize

This is where we spend a lot of time every day - at the kitchen sink. The windows are low enough even for me to see out (I'm on the shorter side of short) and we have a lovely view of the pond, the barns, and the neighbour's field.

View fullsize

This is the laundry room; it's a tiny little space with just enough room for the washer and dryer. The window looks west, at our back field and the edge of the woods where the deer graze most evenings. All of the walls throughout the house are off-white; the colour is Style at Home's Window's Dress, available at Home Hardware. It is the perfect off-white. It changes subtly with the light, is always warm, bright and inviting.

View fullsize

And the office - I'm sitting in that very chair right now. Adam works from home and spends a lot of time here. It's the room that still has some unpacked boxes of odds and ends that I can't wait to put away. We have a lovely sideboard on its way (tax-free and 60% off!) so once that arrives in a few weeks, we'll have places for all of those necessary things.

View fullsize

Looking back into the office, from the kitchen. We have several paintings by the lovely Sarah Jones, and I just love them. Give me off-white walls, wood floors, plenty of plants and some great art, and I am in raptures.

View fullsize

Looking up the stairs, there is a branch full of twinkle lights, and a perfect little triangular window over the regular window in what we call the book nook. The book nook has no books in it yet; we're awaiting bookshelves. And I'm thinking of building a little platform of some kind for a proper daybed to read and dream on. Right now it's a pile of pillows and quilts.

View fullsize

View fullsize

This is the playroom, on a random day in January. Real life! That mat is actually pretty fantastic - you can get a little peek at it there on the right. I bought it at Frenchy's for $25; it's hand-tufted wool and is still available online, here. Heh heh.

View fullsize

And this is Heidi, our sweet kitty. We adopted her in September, and she hid for the first few months, which is why Phillip named her Heidi. (Brilliant, eh?) She is just the sweetest. And talkative.

View fullsize

The light! Oh, the light in this house is so lovely. We opened things up and removed some walls, and the light is like another presence in this house. It moves so beautifully through.

View fullsize

The boys are sharing a room for now, and now that they've settled in, it's going really well.

View fullsize

(I'm having a bit of an issue with vertical images in this template - sorry about the weird size of this one.)

This is probably my favourite spot in the house, right at the bottom of the stairs. There's a small selection of our games... games and books are the only things that I can stand in large numbers, and we love playing games together. In fact, Adam and Phillip are playing one right now. That window looks west, with a view of the back field. The plant was grown from a cutting from one of my grandmother's plants after she died, and it loves it there, too. My phone is usually docked on the stereo, playing some kind of lovely music. Food tastes better when it's made while singing Three Little Birds.

View fullsize

In the living room.

View fullsize

One large wall in the dining room is now covered with prints of my Instagram pictures. I love that everyone stops to look and enjoy them, and that the boys have fun remembering places we've been and things we've done when they look at them.

So there! There are some peeks of what you would see if you popped in for tea. Happy weekend!

winter walk

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

In life, there aren't many guarantees. But I can guarantee that you won't regret getting outside for a walk in the winter. (Unless you slip or fall or something, but aside from that.) I could ramble on about how amazing nature is for our brains, bodies, and souls, but experiencing it is the best way to be convinced. Every year, I'm learning more and more to embrace the things that I have no control over. I have no say in the fact that it's winter, but I can bundle up well and accept its cold and snow and slush as well as its beautiful skies, sparkly snow, smiling red cheeks and drippy noses. 

*

Bonus: snow is like free childcare! Bundle them up and let them loose in it and they'll be occupied for hours. A friend shared a recipe for snow ice cream with me (thanks, Kim!) which I can't wait to make with the boys tomorrow.

honey lemon tea concentrate

We have been experiencing quite the winter cold at our house over the past several weeks. It's one with a cough that just keeps going and going, an occasional stuffy nose, and gunky lungs. Nice, eh? One of my most popular posts over on my old blog was one from a few years ago with this recipe for a simple and delicious throat-and-cough-calmer which even the boys love. I'm still making this all winter, every winter, so I know it's a keeper and worth sharing the updated version!

View fullsize

You'll need:

• 500mL jar and lid (the prettier the better)

• at least two lemons, preferably organic

• raw (unpasteurized) honey (enough to cover the lemons)

• Optional: fresh or dried ginger, fresh or dried turmeric, cinnamon, black pepper, red pepper flakes - these can be added to the mixture in your mug as you make a cup

 

I use a 500mL jar, wash and thinly slice a couple of lemons (the mandoline works great for this!) and drop them in. Because the peel is in there, too, I buy organic lemons if I can find them. Sometimes in the winter you can find a bag for a comparable price to conventionally grown. But please don't lose sleep over whether the lemons are organic or not. I also add in some thinly sliced ginger. (Tip: I keep ginger in the freezer so it can be easily grated / sliced as needed without the annoying strings getting in the way. Another tip: peel fresh ginger with a spoon. Seriously. It sounds bananas, but it works the best by far.)

Cover the honey and ginger with raw (unpasteurized) honey. The honey preserves the lemons, sweetens the concentrate and provides all of the soothing and healing that honey is so good at. I usually squish it all down and around a bit with a spoon so the lemons are submerged and there aren't any air pockets. This can be kept in the fridge for ages. You can occasionally top it up if you like, or use  up one jar and start a fresh one (that's how I do it.) 

To use the concentrate, spoon some of the honeyed lemons into a mug, and top up with hot water. If you find it's bitter, add some more honey right to your mug. Since I first made this a few years ago, I have a few variations I enjoy - I'll add a dash of ground cinnamon, some fresh turmeric if I'm lucky enough to have some on hand, some ground pepper or red pepper flakes if my nose is stuffy. It is always soothing.

This can also be purchased pre-made in the international aisle at the grocery store; it's a traditional Korean thing to do. 

*

Have I mentioned that we have BEES?! They're tucked in snugly for the winter, and hopefully they'll make it through the winter. I'm hoping for enough of a honey harvest this fall to make enough of this to get us through the winter.

 

the word

Thanks so much for the warm welcome, everyone! Much like moving house, moving the blog over here was a bit more work and getting out of my own way than I anticipated. But I'm so happy to be here, blogging again and sharing all of the little things that make life lovely.

That's a theme that's come to my attention often lately - getting out of my own way, and just getting started on something without all of the overthinking. It was that way with changing over the blog, it's that way with continuing to settle into this house, and it's that way with work things, too. It's so easy to talk myself out of something. Throughout the fall, as I've felt that sense of frustration and stagnation, I kept coming across quotes and reading books with the same message: get started, right now. Don't worry about whether I'm good enough / smart enough / ready enough, just do it! (At least in part, thanks to Brené Brown's books and Glennon Melton's Instagram feed).

People these days like to start January with a word for the year that will help them to focus on a particular area of their life. I've always thought that that was lovely, but something that I wouldn't bother doing. And this is going to sound a bit nutty, but a couple of days ago during this first week of January, my word, unbidden, planted itself firmly in my head as I was tidying the living room.

Momentum.

From the latin meaning "to move". One definition is "the strength or force that something has when it is moving", and I like the imagery of strength and force and physically moving. I picture it a bit differently, though, as kind of a fluidity of time and movement, like a river carrying Poohsticks along, naturally and with ease.  (Something about the light and the waves in the chicken's feathers in the picture above captures my mind's eye image, too.) And then there's the 'moment' part of the word, which makes me aware of the importance of being in the moment, whether playing Poohsticks or doing laundry. Which, interestingly enough, goes right back to just starting. Once the starting has happened, the momentum begins and things always seem to fall into place after that. 

In addition to a word for the year, I've also done something else I never have - one of those January internet challenge things. I've been doing Adriene's #30daysofyoga, and I love it. No experience is needed, you can join right in whenever you like - the videos are free on YouTube. It's a great way to start the day, and I've somehow managed to get up early enough even on these work days to get it done before the boys wake up. Most are only 20 minutes or so, and it's a great way to start the day with physical movement to get that momentum started.

*

P.S. I spend a lot of time driving for my job, and thinking about all sorts of things that it would be awkward to weave into casual conversation. That's one of the things I've missed about blogging. I do love me some Instagram, but I missed the writing.

P.P.S. There will be upcoming posts about our new property, the chickens, the bees, the house before and afters (yessssss!) and even some guest posts from Adam every now and then. If you'd like, please leave a comment and let us know if there's anything specific you'd like to see!

Hello, 2015!

We've had a lovely holiday break, and are on day one of settling back into our regular routine. Which is a bit hard on all of us, but especially the littlest ones. I usually don't find a new year to be anything to pay a whole lot of attention to, but for some reason, this year seems very different. Perhaps because last year was a year of transitions for us, and we're finally settled into our new/old and forever home? Whatever the reason, I am excited about 2015. I am looking forward to these few cold, wintry months in the immediate future, and all of the planning and preparation for the gardens and sunny days spent by the lake. Speaking of gardens, I spent several hours one day last week planting bulbs - daffodils, tulips, crocuses, and alliums (182, to be precise) in the only part of our lawn that hadn't yet frozen. I picked up the bulbs for next to nothing after Christmas in the leftover fall stuff, and since we had put a thick layer of rotted hay on the south side of the house where I plan to put plenty of herbs, the ground underneath was still thawed. Hope is planting 182 bulbs on a cold day in January while bundled up in a hat, gloves, and a winter coat in blustery flurries, knowing that spring will come again.

Welcome!

View fullsize

Hello! I'm so glad that you're here. I'm Sherrie, formerly of Twenty-two Pleasant. By way of introduction, our little family moved a few months ago to what I think is the most beautiful property in the most beautiful part of the world. We've (almost) completely renovated a farmhouse built around 1850, and are settling into our new routines as keepers of bees and chickens. My heart is happiest when I'm in the kitchen, making something, or down at the barn communing with my ladies (the hens). I've been a soapmaker for over a decade, and can often be found concocting something unorthodox in the kitchen. By day, I'm a teacher of students with visual impairments. My husband Adam who may occasionally post here as well, is a photographer and works from home. My hope is that through your visit here, you will be inspired to appreciate your own surroundings, wherever you may be. So make yourself at home, and welcome! I'll put the tea on.