| ISSUE 7 // JULY 2021 . BLUE . I want nothing more than a bright blue winter sky. The kind that stretches from one horizon to the next. The sort of sky I associate with Australia this time of year, that I missed so badly when we lived in France I felt almost ill. They seem far and few between this season. Days stretch on with low-lying cloud and smatters of icy, cold rain. The ground is sodden and squishy underfoot. We began our fifth state-wide lockdown recently, and returned once more to the topsy turvy juggle of school, farm chores, work, muddy boots, firewood, persistent coughs and sniffles, and the soup of feeling impatient and relieved, overwhelmed and lethargic, lacklustre and moody. As a response, an antidote perhaps, I decided I would do a short meditation in blue pen for every day of the lockdown. And while it hasn't happen every single day, it has happened often enough. Sometimes the boys pen their own sketchy scenes beside me, other times I sit alone for the length of a hot cup of tea, relishing a chance to play with ink. There is something deeply alluring and pleasing about blue and white together. It is a contrast that can feel both stark and luminous, warm and whimsical. Sky and clouds. Water and stone. Snow and shadow. Silk and clay. I love how it appears in so many diverse traditions of pottery, textiles, craft and art all around the world. I think of the job I held in my first year of university at a polling centre. It was intrusive, uncomfortable work and yet we were plied with an endless supply of white printer paper and blue biro pens. I would doodle and sketch away while asking strangers over the phone for their political preferences, and wander into the worlds of my imagination. I loved making these sketches so much I started my first blog " thoughts and biro sketches " as a place to record them along with tales and tidbits. I may not have a big blue Australian winter sky to look up into today, but I am looking outwards none- the-less. I am noticing the blue around me. In ink and memory. In the gloves that warm my hands which were knit by Alsatian nuns. In the triangles of fabric sewn into the quilt I made for Alex to cover our marriage bed. In the photographs of the Paris skyline on the morning my first son was born and the snow was ever-so softly falling. In the sounds of Billie Holiday and Nina Simone singing. In the flutter of a male fairy wren in the hawthorn. In the tip of a hyacinth emerging from the earth. In the mug I cup with my hands and slowly sip from. In the stories yet to come... . to contemplate . - Go for a walk Notice the signs of the season around you - the shape of clouds in the sky, the colours of leaves in the trees (or absence of them), the feel of the ground under your feet, the smell and taste of the air, the sounds close and faraway. With your whole body notice the complex and wonderful world around you. - Try a drawing meditation Find a blue pen and a piece of paper. You might like to listen to music or something else that will relax you. Give yourself permission to play with lines and shapes, shadows and patterns without too much concern for what emerges. If you like, you can begin by reading this bible passage - Mark 4:30-32 "the Parable of the Mustard Seed" . Read it through a couple of times. Then spend 20-30 minutes quietly reflecting on the images Jesus uses to describe the Kingdom of God. Use paper and blue pens or pencils to sketch as you reflect; you might start with a seed sprouting in a bush or the outlines of birds who find shade in it. Or it could be a tangle of abstract lines and shapes emerging. - Consider the words of author Horatio Clare in his book "The Light in the Dark: A winter journal" : "I will embrace this winter like a summer. I will try to see this little shard of the North as I would an unknown country. I will pay attention. Depression kills your power of vision, turning you fatally towards yourself, but I will practice looking and looking outwards like an exercise, as though training for an expedition. Mountains make sense in any weather. The voices of a wood always speak consolation: the trick is to resist the psychological deafness, that bung of jeering voices clogging the inner ear. Beward that glaze which creeps over the inner eye, blinding you to the brightness of moss in rain. I will not loose touch with nature. This is vital. I believe in immanence, in the oneness of living things. Maintaining that faith will carry you through the hardest times. Or such is the hope..." . from the recipe book . Wintertime Pilaf I make variations of this one-pan hearty rice dish a lot through winter. You can use any protein you like - I've mentioned beef here but I often use a small amount (250g) of ground lamb or chopped bacon. And please use whatever vegetables you have on hand and enjoy eating. Cauliflower works especially well instead of broccoli. 2 tablespoons butter 1 brown onion, chopped finely 250g beef mince (or lamb) 1/2 teaspoon each of ground cinnamon, cumin and coriander 1 cup roughly chopped (and washed) tuscan kale 1 cup roughly chopped silverbeet (including young stems) 1 cup chopped broccoli florets + stem 1/2 cup dried fruit like prunes or raisins 2 cups basmati rice, washed and drained 3 cups boiling vegetable/meat broth or water a handful of fresh parsley + mint olive oil for drizzling salt & pepper to taste In a large heavy-based frypan or shallow saucepan heat butter until melted. Add onions and fry on medium heat until soft and translucent. Next add beef and stir until well-cooked. Next pour in rice and stir around to coat grains. Scatter kale, silverbeet, broccoli and prunes on top. Cover pilaf with boiling stock or water and turn down the heat to cook for about 20 minutes - put a lid on it! Turn off the heat completely and let pilaf steam (covered) for a further 10-15 minutes. Test that rice is cooked and then stir in freshly chopped parsley and mint (or herbs of your choosing) and a generous drizzle of olive oil. Season to taste. Lovely accompanied with greek yoghurt or hummus... Celeriac, Garlic and Parsley mash I love the earthy and creamy taste of celeriac - a much overlooked root vegetable that is unlike anything else. I remembering tasting traditional celeriac remoulade for the first time in France and being completely smitten. Then there's fermented celeriac "saukerkraut" with ginger which is heavenly. This celeriac mash makes a wonderful side for baked fish or stewed meat, or anything really. 1 large celeriac bulb 1 garlic clove, finely minced 1/2 cup whole milk 1 tablespoon good quality butter 1 cup fresh parsley, minced salt and pepper to taste Peel and wash the celeriac thoroughly. Chop into cubes and put in a large saucepan - cover liberally with water (as you would when you boil potatoes) and bring to the boil - simmer for 20-30 minutes or until cubes are tender and mash easily with a fork. Drain well and return to the pot with garlic, butter and milk - mash to the consistency you like. Stir in parsley. Season to taste. Fresh Ginger + Yoghurt Cake with Honey Cream and Blueberries A simple, not-too-sweet gluten-free cake reminiscent of ginger cream kisses... 1 cup softened butter 3/4 cup white sugar 3 large eggs 1 + 1/2 cups plain GF flour (I used equal parts rice and arrowroot flours, you can also use millet flour instead of rice for a nuttier taste) 2 tsp baking powder 2 tablespoons freshly grated ginger 1 teaspoon ground ginger 1/2 cup unsweetened yoghurt, I used Greek yoghurt - - - 250ml pure cream 2 tablespoons runny honey (or maple syrup) 1 tsp pure vanilla essence Preheat a moderate oven to 180'c. Cream butter and sugar together. Beat eggs in one at the time. Stir in flours, baking powder, fresh and dried ginger and yoghurt. Pour into a paper lined round or rectangle tin. Bake for 25-30 minutes or until a skewer inserted in the middle of the cake comes out clean. Cool completely before slicing the cake through the middle. Whip pure cream until lightly set. Whisk in runny honey with a teaspoon of vanilla essence. Sandwich together two halves of the cake with half of the cream mixture and spread the remaining cream on top of the cake. Scatter with fresh blueberries or any ripe fruit of your choosing. . On the blog . midwinter Midwinter is... Read More june days Early June is... Read More Down by the river PT IV Down by the riverno boys playing,banks submerged with rain -everything... Read More tempest It's school pick up time on Wednesday when the rain... Read More A blessing from the winter sky: blue crispness to smile under grey shrouds to sorrow in A blessing from the tall trees: spotted gum, golden wattle shivering elm, naked oak A blessing from the sparkling frost: crunch of grass underfoot bright sun upon your face A blessing from the rain: deep soaking of your soul bulbs and seeds about to burst A blessing from the dark earth: slow work of worms and webbing of roots A blessing from the cold wind: breath made visible warmth of wood and wool A blessing from the long night: a welcome to your shadows love enfolding sleep Missed issue 6? Click here to read |
I want nothing more than a bright blue winter sky.
The kind that stretches from one horizon to the next. The sort of sky I associate with Australia this time of year, that I missed so badly when we lived in France I felt almost ill. They seem far and few between this season. Days stretch on with low-lying cloud and smatters of icy, cold rain. The ground is sodden and squishy underfoot.
We began our fifth state-wide lockdown recently, and returned once more to the topsy turvy juggle of school, farm chores, work, muddy boots, firewood, persistent coughs and sniffles, and the soup of feeling impatient and relieved, overwhelmed and lethargic, lacklustre and moody. As a response, an antidote perhaps, I decided I would do a short meditation in blue pen for every day of the lockdown. And while it hasn't happen every single day, it has happened often enough. Sometimes the boys pen their own sketchy scenes beside me, other times I sit alone for the length of a hot cup of tea, relishing a chance to play with ink.
There is something deeply alluring and pleasing about blue and white together. It is a contrast that can feel both stark and luminous, warm and whimsical. Sky and clouds. Water and stone. Snow and shadow. Silk and clay. I love how it appears in so many diverse traditions of pottery, textiles, craft and art all around the world.
I think of the job I held in my first year of university at a polling centre. It was intrusive, uncomfortable work and yet we were plied with an endless supply of white printer paper and blue biro pens. I would doodle and sketch away while asking strangers over the phone for their political preferences, and wander into the worlds of my imagination. I loved making these sketches so much I started my first blog "thoughts and biro sketches" as a place to record them along with tales and tidbits.
I may not have a big blue Australian winter sky to look up into today, but I am looking outwards none- the-less. I am noticing the blue around me. In ink and memory. In the gloves that warm my hands which were knit by Alsatian nuns. In the triangles of fabric sewn into the quilt I made for Alex to cover our marriage bed. In the photographs of the Paris skyline on the morning my first son was born and the snow was ever-so softly falling. In the sounds of Billie Holiday and Nina Simone singing. In the flutter of a male fairy wren in the hawthorn. In the tip of a hyacinth emerging from the earth. In the mug I cup with my hands and slowly sip from. In the stories yet to come... | |
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- Go for a walk
Notice the signs of the season around you - the shape of clouds in the sky, the colours of leaves in the trees (or absence of them), the feel of the ground under your feet, the smell and taste of the air, the sounds close and faraway. With your whole body notice the complex and wonderful world around you.
- Try a drawing meditation
Find a blue pen and a piece of paper. You might like to listen to music or something else that will relax you. Give yourself permission to play with lines and shapes, shadows and patterns without too much concern for what emerges.
If you like, you can begin by reading this bible passage - Mark 4:30-32 "the Parable of the Mustard Seed". Read it through a couple of times. Then spend 20-30 minutes quietly reflecting on the images Jesus uses to describe the Kingdom of God. Use paper and blue pens or pencils to sketch as you reflect; you might start with a seed sprouting in a bush or the outlines of birds who find shade in it. Or it could be a tangle of abstract lines and shapes emerging.
- Consider the words of author Horatio Clare in his book "The Light in the Dark: A winter journal":
"I will embrace this winter like a summer. I will try to see this little shard of the North as I would an unknown country. I will pay attention. Depression kills your power of vision, turning you fatally towards yourself, but I will practice looking and looking outwards like an exercise, as though training for an expedition. Mountains make sense in any weather. The voices of a wood always speak consolation: the trick is to resist the psychological deafness, that bung of jeering voices clogging the inner ear. Beward that glaze which creeps over the inner eye, blinding you to the brightness of moss in rain. I will not loose touch with nature. This is vital. I believe in immanence, in the oneness of living things. Maintaining that faith will carry you through the hardest times. Or such is the hope..."
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Wintertime Pilaf
I make variations of this one-pan hearty rice dish a lot through winter. You can use any protein you like - I've mentioned beef here but I often use a small amount (250g) of ground lamb or chopped bacon. And please use whatever vegetables you have on hand and enjoy eating. Cauliflower works especially well instead of broccoli.
2 tablespoons butter
1 brown onion, chopped finely
250g beef mince (or lamb)
1/2 teaspoon each of ground cinnamon, cumin and coriander
1 cup roughly chopped (and washed) tuscan kale
1 cup roughly chopped silverbeet (including young stems)
1 cup chopped broccoli florets + stem
1/2 cup dried fruit like prunes or raisins
2 cups basmati rice, washed and drained
3 cups boiling vegetable/meat broth or water
a handful of fresh parsley + mint
olive oil for drizzling
salt & pepper to taste
In a large heavy-based frypan or shallow saucepan heat butter until melted. Add onions and fry on medium heat until soft and translucent. Next add beef and stir until well-cooked.
Next pour in rice and stir around to coat grains. Scatter kale, silverbeet, broccoli and prunes on top. Cover pilaf with boiling stock or water and turn down the heat to cook for about 20 minutes - put a lid on it!
Turn off the heat completely and let pilaf steam (covered) for a further 10-15 minutes. Test that rice is cooked and then stir in freshly chopped parsley and mint (or herbs of your choosing) and a generous drizzle of olive oil. Season to taste.
Lovely accompanied with greek yoghurt or hummus... | |
Celeriac, Garlic and Parsley mash
I love the earthy and creamy taste of celeriac - a much overlooked root vegetable that is unlike anything else. I remembering tasting traditional celeriac remoulade for the first time in France and being completely smitten. Then there's fermented celeriac "saukerkraut" with ginger which is heavenly. This celeriac mash makes a wonderful side for baked fish or stewed meat, or anything really.
1 large celeriac bulb
1 garlic clove, finely minced
1/2 cup whole milk
1 tablespoon good quality butter
1 cup fresh parsley, minced
salt and pepper to taste
Peel and wash the celeriac thoroughly. Chop into cubes and put in a large saucepan - cover liberally with water (as you would when you boil potatoes) and bring to the boil - simmer for 20-30 minutes or until cubes are tender and mash easily with a fork. Drain well and return to the pot with garlic, butter and milk - mash to the consistency you like. Stir in parsley. Season to taste. | |
Fresh Ginger + Yoghurt Cake with Honey Cream and Blueberries
A simple, not-too-sweet gluten-free cake reminiscent of ginger cream kisses...
1 cup softened butter
3/4 cup white sugar
3 large eggs
1 + 1/2 cups plain GF flour (I used equal parts rice and arrowroot flours, you can also use millet flour instead of rice for a nuttier taste)
2 tsp baking powder
2 tablespoons freshly grated ginger
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 cup unsweetened yoghurt, I used Greek yoghurt
- - -
250ml pure cream
2 tablespoons runny honey (or maple syrup)
1 tsp pure vanilla essence
Preheat a moderate oven to 180'c. Cream butter and sugar together. Beat eggs in one at the time. Stir in flours, baking powder, fresh and dried ginger and yoghurt. Pour into a paper lined round or rectangle tin.
Bake for 25-30 minutes or until a skewer inserted in the middle of the cake comes out clean. Cool completely before slicing the cake through the middle.
Whip pure cream until lightly set. Whisk in runny honey with a teaspoon of vanilla essence. Sandwich together two halves of the cake with half of the cream mixture and spread the remaining cream on top of the cake.
Scatter with fresh blueberries or any ripe fruit of your choosing.
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A blessing from the winter sky:
blue crispness to smile under
grey shrouds to sorrow in
A blessing from the tall trees:
spotted gum, golden wattle
shivering elm, naked oak
A blessing from the sparkling frost:
crunch of grass underfoot
bright sun upon your face
A blessing from the rain:
deep soaking of your soul
bulbs and seeds about to burst
A blessing from the dark earth:
slow work of worms
and webbing of roots
A blessing from the cold wind:
breath made visible
warmth of wood and wool
A blessing from the long night:
a welcome to your shadows
love enfolding sleep | |
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