| ISSUE 15 // August 2022 . RIVER . This morning as we bustled into the car on our way to school, my eldest exclaims: "Look! The river! It's absolutely huge!", and later after I drive home and put on more warm layers, I see it for myself. I walk down the hill towards the sound of rushing water. My boots squelch and sink into the ground - weeks of heavy rain has made the pasture soggy and unable to sponge up any more moisture. I can feel the cold freezing the tips of my fingers and nose, and the lightest wisps of rain on my cheeks. The river is swollen and gushing. He is right - it is absolutely huge. I have sat with this newsletter for a few months - knowing that I wanted to write to you about the river, and every time I've tried to sketch out the sight and sound and smell and shape of her, she's changed dramatically and I am lost for words. When I am at the river's edge I am struck with her beauty. I am grateful for the metaphor she offers us: the reflection she brings to our lives and our spiritual journey. That whatever befalls us, we are carried on. Sometimes we meander luxuriously, we bubble over the mossy rocks and gurgle around the fallen willow limbs. But at other times we rush - overwhelmed and gushing, we flood out and spill over, and everything feels forced and uncontrollable. Often we slow down, painfully slow, stuck in the mud, in the rubbish and the debris. Or in the heat of the sun, when so much is taken, evaporated and required of us - and all we long for day and night is the steady flow - is to be carried onwards to that next season. "Rivers run through us", writes Robert McFarland. And here on the farm there is a river running through the very middle. I think about this river and her history. What has she known in her time? What change has she witnessed? And I am not just talking about the things we have done as settlers to this place. The maps we've carefully drawn or the trees we've cut - the ways we've dug, hauled, diverted, trenched, damned and directed, and tried to contain and tried to use her. I wonder about the people who have stood at her edge and had their faces reflected back at them, as they reckoned with her power and provision, as they contemplated their lives. The traditional owners of this land lived for thousands of years by the river. The Dja Dja Wurrung people to the west of her, and the Taungurung peoples to the east. We gave her a name: Campaspe - a homage to the mistress of an ancient greek King, because we could, because it sounded exotic and rolled off the English tongue. But long before this, she was known intimately, not only in language but in dance, story and song, in dreams and the wisdom of generations upon generations of care and reverie, as Yalka, Yerrin and Boregam . + + + + In scripture we find recurring references to the river, to wellsprings and living waters. These images of wild, uncontainable bodies of running water help us grapple with the desire of God to redeem and refresh us from the inside out. To bring justice, to satiate our thirst, to renew and delight. "But let justice roll on like a river, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream " Amos 5:24 Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water .’” John 7: 38 The river is the journey of faith - the gift of new life bubbling like a spring in dry land; the currents of freedom and desire coursing through the landscape of our lives, in the shallows we find watery stillness and painful reflection, willingly we surrender to wade into the unknown depths, to ride the stream - always moving, ever flowing to the loving embrace of God. We are nearing the end of winter, and once again we have endured months of discomfort and dormancy. We have waited for the spring and now it is coming. A new sense of possibility springs up from where it once seemed seemed barren and frozen. It carries me through the cold nights, and with each golden wattle branch and bulb that opens, in the bird call and widening light, I am flooded with hope. x . To CoNTEMPLATE . Read My River RUNS TO THEE by Emily Dickinson: My River runs to thee— Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me? My River wait reply— Oh Sea—look graciously— I’ll fetch thee Brooks From spotted nooks— Say—Sea—Take Me! Explore the edge of a river near you. What do you see, smell, hear, feel and taste there? Or you can come to the river's edge with me; I have posted a video at the end of this newsletter which I filmed recently Contemplate these verses: There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God . Psalm 46:4 Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water .’” John 7: 38 But let justice roll on like a river, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream . Amos 5:24 Consider the words of Olivia Laing in her book "To the River": “ A river passing through a landscape catches the world and gives it back redoubled: a shifting, glinting world more mysterious than the one we customarily inhabit. Rivers run through our civilisations like strings through beads ,” . from the recipe book . Orangey Porangey Cake A cake for people like me who love oranges - peel, juice, flesh and all. The cake itself has two whole oranges blended into the batter and is topped generously with slices of candied blood orange. Unlike many gluten-free cakes, this one stays deliciously moist for days! To save time boil the oranges the night before you intend to make the cake so that they are soft and ready to go when you need them. You will need: - 2 whole oranges (I used the seedless "cara cara" variety for it's beautiful sweetness and ruby colour) - 125g salted butter, softened - 1 cup caster sugar - 4 eggs - 2 cups self-raising gluten free plain flour (OR a combination of 1 cup rice flour + 1 cup tapioca flour with 4 teaspoons GF baking powder OR 2 cups almond meal with 4 teaspoons baking powder) For the candied blood oranges: - 1/2 cup water, - 1 cup caster sugar, - 3 small blood oranges, sliced in thin rings For the cake: Place 2 whole oranges in a small saucepan and cover with water. Bring the water to the boil, then reduce heat to medium and simmer oranges for 1 hour with a lid on the pot. Drain the water out and let the oranges cool down overnight or for at least 4 hours before making the batter. Preheat moderate oven (180’c). In a blender - blitz oranges (rind and all!) until smooth. Beat in softened butter, sugar and eggs. Mix in flour and beat until smooth. Pour batter into a (paper-lined) 22cm spring form cake tin. Bake for 50-60 minutes. You will know when the cake is done when a skewer or thin knife inserted into the middle comes out clean. Remove cake from the oven and cool while you make the candied orange slices. For the candied blood orange slices: Slice three small blood oranges into thin rings. In a large, heavy-based frying pan bring 1/2 cup water and 1 cup of sugar to a boil on a high heat. Gently place all your blood orange slices in the pan - they can overlap each other - and reduce heat to low. Let the oranges simmer for 20-30 minutes. I used tongs to flip the slices over a couple of times in this process. Turn the heat off. Remove the slices and let them cool a little on a piece of baking paper or on a clean plate. There should be a little syrup left in the frypan. Arrange candied slices on the top of the orange cake and drizzle all the remaining orange syrup on top. Enjoy on it's own or with a generous dollop of double cream or greek yoghurt... . On the blog . books of 2022 (so far) I have read some wonderful, interesting, thought provoking... Read More Winter DAYS The weeks of winter blur... Read More Winter making ... Read More To Sydney and back again I... Read More June It has been so cold recently.... Read More we live by the river and down the hill I've seen her rushing winding, curling, gushing season to season ebbing and flowing on and on and on she goes in winter flooding, summer drying black swans bobbing rippling, weaving boys toes sinking muddy, splashing ducks dashing moor hens hopping pobblebonks croaking dragonfly wings we live by the river and the river swallows our thoughts of ever leaving our busy bodies overlaid with wet wonderment with slow and steady stream + + + Down by the river I Down by the river II Down by the River III Down by the River IV Missed issue 14? Click here to read |
This morning as we bustled into the car on our way to school, my eldest exclaims: "Look! The river! It's absolutely huge!", and later after I drive home and put on more warm layers, I see it for myself. I walk down the hill towards the sound of rushing water. My boots squelch and sink into the ground - weeks of heavy rain has made the pasture soggy and unable to sponge up any more moisture. I can feel the cold freezing the tips of my fingers and nose, and the lightest wisps of rain on my cheeks. The river is swollen and gushing. He is right - it is absolutely huge.
I have sat with this newsletter for a few months - knowing that I wanted to write to you about the river, and every time I've tried to sketch out the sight and sound and smell and shape of her, she's changed dramatically and I am lost for words.
When I am at the river's edge I am struck with her beauty. I am grateful for the metaphor she offers us: the reflection she brings to our lives and our spiritual journey. That whatever befalls us, we are carried on. Sometimes we meander luxuriously, we bubble over the mossy rocks and gurgle around the fallen willow limbs. But at other times we rush - overwhelmed and gushing, we flood out and spill over, and everything feels forced and uncontrollable. Often we slow down, painfully slow, stuck in the mud, in the rubbish and the debris. Or in the heat of the sun, when so much is taken, evaporated and required of us - and all we long for day and night is the steady flow - is to be carried onwards to that next season.
"Rivers run through us", writes Robert McFarland. And here on the farm there is a river running through the very middle. I think about this river and her history. What has she known in her time? What change has she witnessed? And I am not just talking about the things we have done as settlers to this place. The maps we've carefully drawn or the trees we've cut - the ways we've dug, hauled, diverted, trenched, damned and directed, and tried to contain and tried to use her. I wonder about the people who have stood at her edge and had their faces reflected back at them, as they reckoned with her power and provision, as they contemplated their lives.
The traditional owners of this land lived for thousands of years by the river. The Dja Dja Wurrung people to the west of her, and the Taungurung peoples to the east. We gave her a name: Campaspe - a homage to the mistress of an ancient greek King, because we could, because it sounded exotic and rolled off the English tongue. But long before this, she was known intimately, not only in language but in dance, story and song, in dreams and the wisdom of generations upon generations of care and reverie, as Yalka, Yerrin and Boregam.
+ + + +
In scripture we find recurring references to the river, to wellsprings and living waters. These images of wild, uncontainable bodies of running water help us grapple with the desire of God to redeem and refresh us from the inside out. To bring justice, to satiate our thirst, to renew and delight.
"But let justice roll on like a river, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream" Amos 5:24
Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’” John 7: 38
The river is the journey of faith - the gift of new life bubbling like a spring in dry land; the currents of freedom and desire coursing through the landscape of our lives, in the shallows we find watery stillness and painful reflection, willingly we surrender to wade into the unknown depths, to ride the stream - always moving, ever flowing to the loving embrace of God.
We are nearing the end of winter, and once again we have endured months of discomfort and dormancy. We have waited for the spring and now it is coming. A new sense of possibility springs up from where it once seemed seemed barren and frozen. It carries me through the cold nights, and with each golden wattle branch and bulb that opens, in the bird call and widening light, I am flooded with hope.
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Read My River RUNS TO THEE by Emily Dickinson:
My River runs to thee—
Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me?
My River wait reply—
Oh Sea—look graciously—
I’ll fetch thee Brooks
From spotted nooks—
Say—Sea—Take Me!
Explore the edge of a river near you. What do you see, smell, hear, feel and taste there? Or you can come to the river's edge with me; I have posted a video at the end of this newsletter which I filmed recently
Contemplate these verses:
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God. Psalm 46:4
Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’” John 7: 38
But let justice roll on like a river, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. Amos 5:24
Consider the words of Olivia Laing in her book "To the River":
“A river passing through a landscape catches the world and gives it back redoubled: a shifting, glinting world more mysterious than the one we customarily inhabit. Rivers run through our civilisations like strings through beads,” | |
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|
Orangey Porangey Cake
A cake for people like me who love oranges - peel, juice, flesh and all. The cake itself has two whole oranges blended into the batter and is topped generously with slices of candied blood orange. Unlike many gluten-free cakes, this one stays deliciously moist for days! To save time boil the oranges the night before you intend to make the cake so that they are soft and ready to go when you need them.
You will need:
- 2 whole oranges (I used the seedless "cara cara" variety for it's beautiful sweetness and ruby colour)
- 125g salted butter, softened
- 1 cup caster sugar
- 4 eggs
- 2 cups self-raising gluten free plain flour
(OR a combination of 1 cup rice flour + 1 cup tapioca flour with 4 teaspoons GF baking powder OR 2 cups almond meal with 4 teaspoons baking powder)
For the candied blood oranges:
- 1/2 cup water,
- 1 cup caster sugar,
- 3 small blood oranges, sliced in thin rings
For the cake:
Place 2 whole oranges in a small saucepan and cover with water. Bring the water to the boil, then reduce heat to medium and simmer oranges for 1 hour with a lid on the pot. Drain the water out and let the oranges cool down overnight or for at least 4 hours before making the batter.
Preheat moderate oven (180’c). In a blender - blitz oranges (rind and all!) until smooth. Beat in softened butter, sugar and eggs. Mix in flour and beat until smooth. Pour batter into a (paper-lined) 22cm spring form cake tin. Bake for 50-60 minutes. You will know when the cake is done when a skewer or thin knife inserted into the middle comes out clean. Remove cake from the oven and cool while you make the candied orange slices.
For the candied blood orange slices:
Slice three small blood oranges into thin rings. In a large, heavy-based frying pan bring 1/2 cup water and 1 cup of sugar to a boil on a high heat. Gently place all your blood orange slices in the pan - they can overlap each other - and reduce heat to low. Let the oranges simmer for 20-30 minutes. I used tongs to flip the slices over a couple of times in this process. Turn the heat off. Remove the slices and let them cool a little on a piece of baking paper or on a clean plate. There should be a little syrup left in the frypan.
Arrange candied slices on the top of the orange cake and drizzle all the remaining orange syrup on top. Enjoy on it's own or with a generous dollop of double cream or greek yoghurt...
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we live by the river
and down the hill
I've seen her rushing
winding, curling, gushing
season to season
ebbing and flowing
on and on and on
she goes
in winter flooding,
summer drying
black swans bobbing
rippling, weaving
boys toes sinking
muddy, splashing
ducks dashing
moor hens hopping
pobblebonks croaking
dragonfly wings
we live by the river
and the river swallows
our thoughts of ever leaving
our busy bodies overlaid
with wet wonderment
with slow and steady stream
+ + +
Down by the river I
Down by the river II
Down by the River III
Down by the River IV
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