2015 is here

I'm amazed at how fast 2014 passed. It was a year of ups and downs but it was, on balance, generally a pretty okay kind of year. As part of our rambunctious New Year's Eve of eating take out Thai food and watching season 9 of Supernatural on blu ray, Jeff and I started a new tradition. We've decided from here on, we're going to do a yearly journal entry for our year in review, focusing on the highlights of the year past, and jotting down some aspirations (not resolutions) for the year to come. We are then going to write down 5 positive things that happen to us everyday.

I think it will be a fun thing to look back on, even if we become a bit spotty in the reporting. I can be a dweller, the anxiety and OCD makes me mull and dissect negative happenings until I fall into a pit of despair. If I'm going to dwell, it may as well be on the positive things in our lives.

So, before we move forward, here are some of the highlights from 2014.

Seeing the always amazing Kathleen Edwards at the Dead of Winter festival. While she may now be a Quitter, her performance that night was beautiful and personal and she was wearing the most beautiful snugly looking sweater that almost had me jumping on stage just to hug her.

Visiting the Buckle Ark and practising my newly learnt crochet skills under the helpful eye of a bestie that I see far too little of...if only there were secret passages between our craft rooms!

Our Ottawa weekend for Folk Fest. The National were awesome, but The War on Drugs were one of the very best outdoor shows I have ever seen.

Hiking Duncan's Cove on Remembrance Day. It was spectacular, the weather was amazing, and the stillness of mind that it induced was well needed.

Christmas break hike - Kearney Lake

Christmas break hike - Crystal Crescent 

This Christmas break has been a good one too. Though Jeff and I would probably choose a different time of year for our annual vacation, he is required to take the time by his employer. We've been lucky enough to have had some beautiful weather, perfect for spoiling Finnegan with some extended off-leash walks.

Today, Jeff returns to work, and Monday I do the same. 2015 will begin in earnest, and every night we will reflect on the good in our lives.

Happy New Year from Fin and Batty!

Life on the edge

I am a water baby. Born under the sign of the crab on the west coast of Vancouver Island, salt water courses through my blood. Rain, salt air and fog are essential life forces. Isolation and standing on the edge of the known bring me comfort.

I am here, next human is here-ish. Perfect. I like my personal space.
View Larger Map

For university, I chose to bust out on my own by moving to Montreal. Rain became snow, salt air was only constructed through the over zealous snow removal and fog was either really steam or self induced through hangover. Isolation was cultural and anonymity, and the were no edges. Montreal is the middle. But I still found the sea. Most people studied at home or the library (or didn't study), but I found my haven at the Biodome. Sure, my intertidal zone was a little too sterile, but it was one of the few places I could ground myself.

During the summers I went back to Ucluelet, back to the edge, to stare off the side of the continent. The summers recharged me, and the lack of anonymity often left me eager to escape to my cultural isolation.

Halifax is a nice balance. There's enough of a population base that you can remain somewhat anonymous, but it is situated on the edge. This past weekend, I craved that edge. Jeff, Finnegan and I went for a walk to stare off the side of the continent. I feel recharged.

We are here, next human is here-ish.  Perfect. We need out personal space.
View Larger Map

And over there is Muxia.  It's a long swim.

The sea at our feet and the sun on our faces.  Batteries are recharging.

The Leather Anniversary (More mushy than S&M)

If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever

-Tennyson

Three years ago today, Jeff and I had our last date before our wedding.  Our shared love of indie music was one of the things that drew us together (our first date was to see Olenka and the Autumn Lovers in a weird little venue that only had tea available to patrons).  This week in Halifax is the annual Pop Explosion Festival, and in 2011, we were happy to sneak out of the house for a couple of hours on our own to see Dan Mangan play.  Due to weather, he wasn't even sure if he and his band were going to make it from Newfoundland, where they had played the night before.  They rushed straight from the airport to the stage, and as such, didn't have the time to do a proper sound check.  The show was still very good, but near the end of the night, Dan finally unleashed his voice and used the venue to full effect. The rafters of St Matthew's Church grabbed his vocals and threw them heavenward.  The resonate sound was astonishing.  Afterwards, Jeff and I jumped in puddles and wandered by the waterfront, thick with fog and mist, and had a small reprieve from the stress of wedding planning.  No matter how small and casual your wedding, no matter how relaxed it all is - it is not, not one moment of it, relaxing.

On October 22, we stood in our very own backyard and stated in front of family and friends that the rest of our lives together didn't seem long enough for all the things we want to do.  As I was saying to my dear friend Elle last week, it's a pretty neat thing to have such an awesome memory embedded into your own backyard.  I stare at the spot under the apple tree daily.  And every few weeks we renew our commitment to each other, and all the things we want to do by reminding each other that we cannot wait to spend 60 more years together. 

Every time, 60.

Here's to 60 more years my love.

(I accept, and am grateful, that Jeff is more likely to quote Sir Lancelot the Brave than anything by Lord Tennyson.)

Nova Scotia Dreamin

All the leaves are gorgeous and the skies are blue.  We went for a walk on an October day.

It was 25C, and I though we saw a couple of big dogs, they were utter sweethearts.  So, warm and safe. 

And I believe that there is no better temple then the outdoors, when we see all the earth's systems working together to make this planet habitable. 

Thus ends my weird Mamas and Papas post. 

Nova Scotia in October - amazing.

Dirt under the fingernails

Summer Columbine - self planted.

I broke myself this weekend. It was one of those stunning fall weekends that allow to cling to summer hope. Sunny skies and 25c. It was perfect for tackling the slightly neglected backyard. In general, I find our backyard an oasis. Sure, it's a little rustic. Yep, that's a patch of buttercups, and over there are some dandelions, and under that tree there is a haven for clover, but you know what, bees like clover. 

Finnegan is a fan of the backyard too.

 

However, in late August, things start to die. And not the pretty fade or the bright explosion of colour die, but ugly death throws die. And in my OCD brain, something snapped. I couldn't handle it for another season, couldn't face the death and decay of the winter until their spindly corpses get covered by the snow, so I started to pull weeds. At first it was meant to be a clean up, but then it became a war. And when to roots went deeper, so did I, and soon it was trench warfare. The roots went under rocks, so I dug up the rocks. And the rocks became small boulders, so I dug up the boulders. And then I tried to pick up my broken body and saw a giant hole. And it was three hours later, and I hadn't had any water and it was 25c, and I'm crazy.

 

Three loads of dirt and rocks galore.

This weekend, I will rebuild the bed with nice, weed-free soil and use the boulders as stabilising walls.  I will plant bulbs that will announce the coming of next year's spring, and save space for a new bunch of perennials that will flow through the summer like a symphony of colour.  But this week, I will ice and heat and take ibuprofen and marvel at the hole in the backyard.

Fleet of Foxes - craft room update

It's been a busy couple of weeks, what with getting the Etsy shop up and running, travelling to Ottawa and now being sick (the last two often go hand in hand). I've been taking a bit of a mental break...a break from thinking. Thinking can be exhausting, and when I'm already exhausted, the thinking tends to be less productive. But this does not translate into idleness. My hands still go even when my brain doesn't.  So here are a couple of the projects I've been working on:

For my birthday this year, we went camping and driving around the Northumberland shore.

Umm, is that bacon?  I like bacon.  Give me the bacon.

We also popped into a couple of artisan businesses, such as the Seafoam Lavender Farm,

Smells like heaven.  Unfortunately, frolicking was frowned upon.  Sniffing was okay.

the Tatamagouche Brewery

Frolicking was looked upon favourably.

 



Cosy, soft beret, perfect for fall, and making you all green with envy.

and the Lismore Sheep Farm. The lavender oil I bought became this, the beer Jeff bought was declared delicious, and this week, the yummy yarn I purchased without any concrete plan became this:

I've also been making a small army of adorable woodland creatures. I think they will become Christmas ornaments and possibly a child's mobile. I'll keep you posted.

 

Finally, I've been hooking some new boot cuffs. I heard fairly resoundingly that folks were pretty keen on these, my first crochet project. As such, I thought I'd try some additional stitches to get something new and fun going.

Happy Friday!

Xo

S.

Bottling Summer 2

Summertime and the living is easy - unless you're canning.
This sunflower was planted by the bluejays amongst our beans.

25lbs of summer fruit and veg came back with me from Wolfville.  Raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, peaches, plums, tomatoes, corn and beets.  We also contributed almost 4lbs of beans from our own garden.  The next day, I started a ritual as old as harvesting food - trying to preserve it for leaner times.  I pulled back my hair, tied my apron around my waist and cranked the tunes. 

Canning is a hot, sticky business in August.  The stove has water boiling and steaming on it all day, sugars are being converted to syrups, berries are being crushed and the air is thick with vapourised vinegar.  Lots of counter space is taken-up.  Burned fingertips are inevitable.  But hot damn, in the dead of winter, spreading some homemade raspberry jam on you toast is pure heaven.

Oh, there will be Cesar's.

This becomes...

Every canning day has a casualty; usually a jar that fails to seal.  I had one of my jars of peaches do this to me, so sadly we had to eat it at book club with a raspberry shortbread cookie and coconut ice cream (I am not actually sad).  I also had a jar of salsa explode in the canning pot.  There must have been a fault with the jar.  It was loud, and it made me a little weepy seeing 500mL of deliciousness go to waste.  All in all though, a successful venture that almost has me looking forward to the winter.  Almost.

 xoxo

s.



Bottling Summer

Seeing my baby squashes all grown up threw my summer enjoyment into overdrive.  Last winter was simply villainous, and I need to fill myself with sunshine goodness before the weather turns and we begin the slow march to the winter blahs.  So, I packed myself into the car to drive to the bastion of Nova Scotia summerness, the Valley - namely Wolfville and Grand Pre.  30C of glorious sunshine surrounded by farmland and eased away from muggy oppression by the light, salty breeze.

Perfection

My plan was to have a perfect girly day...antiques, farmer's markets and vineyards.  My plan was a success.  I drove straight to my favourite antique store, Country Barn Antiques, in Port Williams.  It's four floors of chaotic antiquing in a circa 1860 post and beam barn.  I mean, it's heaven.  I'm always on the look out for something funky, and lately, I've been enamoured with 1960s Miller Studio chalkware.  Why?  I don't know; it's bright and cheerful, I remember it being in my grandparent's house, so a little nostalgic and, frankly, I'm a little odd.  When I bought my pieces for a song, the proprietor asked me, in slightly different words, if that's what the kids were in to these days.  He also told me to tell you that you should all go visit him because he has a lot more chalkware somewhere.  So there you go, friends, I know you can't wait!

Mint condition, still in the box.  Tweet tweet!

At the farmer's market, I bought 25lbs of produce to can up the peak of the season berries, fruits and veg.  I've been busy in the kitchen ever since.  More on that this weekend.

My final stop was the vineyard at Grand Pre.  I was interested in seeing the newly designated UNESCO world heritage site in it's full glory.  A dear friend of mine worked his ass off to see the designation through, and I hadn't yet seen the finished product.

The stunning cultural landscape recognised at Grand Pre.

I intend to tip a glass of delicious Nova Scotia white from one of the several bottles I picked up on my way home.

 

 

Happy Friday!
xo
S.

Backyard Beerfest for the gluten-free

The first time I ordered a decaffeinated soy latte, the barista dubbed it a "why bother". I was 16, visiting Vancouver and it was the first time I had ever seen soymilk on a restaurant menu. I was a little bit embarrassed, as teenagers often are when singled out, but in the intervening years, have seen many a decaffeinated soy latte order, regardless of actual need.

I don't care about what's 'good' for me...one could get whiplash from trying to figure out which side of the fence wine or butter or chocolate, eggs etc are currently situated. I care about how things taste and how things make me feel. Gluten and dairy make me feel bad. Really bad; for days bad. Excruciating pain, vomiting, diarrhea, migraines, eczema and so on and so forth. I then have to go on a bland diet to reset my body. All in all, the whole process from reaction to recovery takes 2-3 weeks.  If I were a caribou, the wolves would have taken me decades ago.

Thankfully, I am not.  And beyond being a relatively productive member of the herd, I have a knack for preparing lichen in a way that all the other caribou crave.  Okay, that analogy is going nowhere.  Bluntly, I am a good cook.  I’ve been forced by necessity to become a good cook, and I also love to cook.  Cooking is another of my favourite creative endeavours.  Have you seen Ratatouille?  There’s that scene where Remy is having a psychedelic taste bud trip:

Yeah, I get that. Food and drink are two of the most powerful experiences that engage all of the senses.  And free of caffeine or dairy or gluten does not mean free of taste or decadence or psychedelic taste bud trips.

On Friday, Jeff and I hosted a little gathering to celebrate the temporary return of one of our migrant friends back to the herd (I apparently have ungulates on the brain today). In honour of the visit, we decided to arrange a less crowded, more cost effective beer festival then the one run on the same day, downtown.  Now, a beer festival may not seem like the most brilliant of themes for a gluten-free individual, but it is one of the few environments where this type of event was safe for me.

Jeff is pretty serious about the whole beer thing.  He’s growing hops in the backyard and he brews his own.  We call it Long Dog Brewing, after Mr. Finnegan. He’s had some hits and he’s had some misses.  By far, the biggest miss was not really his fault – it was a kit.  And it was meant to be a nice gesture.  The beer was called Silly Yak, which was rice based.  The problem with most gluten free beers is that they are outrageously sweet.  This one took it to another level.  Completely undrinkable.  Bless his heart, once he got comfortable with creating his own recipes and preparing his own malt, Jeff decided to try his hand at gluten free once again.  This time, he sprouted and roasted quinoa and used sorghum syrup.  The result is Long Dog Brewing’s Quinoaaaa?, and it’s pretty darn tasty.  It’s also pretty awesome that I have my own home tap!

Jeff’s next endeavor will be to try to make a homemade cider.  Nova Scotia grows some delicious apples, and from them, some phenomenal ciders have been created.  I grew up in BC, and my experience with ciders centered on 2litre pop bottles filled with crazy-sweet, fruit flavoured sparkling sugar water from the Okanagan.  My teeth and brain hurt just thinking about them.  But much like a good sparkling wine, a proper cider is restrained in its sweetness.  Hopefully this fall, Long Dog Brewing will move into the cider game.  Until that time, I have the list of the tasty ciders I experienced during our Backyard Beerfest. 

Who	Where	What
Finnebara	Ireland	Dry Cider
Bulwarks	Nova Scotia	Berry Blush Cider
Bulwarks	Nova Scotia	Traditional Cider
Ship Builders	Nova Scotia	Cider
Weston’s Old Rosie	England	Cloudy Cider
Weston’s WlydWood	England	Organic Pear Cider

Happy Backyard Tasting!

Xo

s.