Cacoa Chai Ashwagandha Balls

Somewhere between tears, November harvests, and other acts of daily privilege, I'll likely be making these today, or sometime soonish.

With the chill of autumn setting in it's as good a time as any to make a small batch of warming Cacoa Chai Ashwagandha Balls. ::nods::

The recipe's not hard 'n' fast, so mix 'n' match your ingredients as your inspiration (and what you have on hand) guides you.

Cacoa Chai Ashwagandha Balls

⅓ cups nut butter or tahini

¼ cup syrup (maple, fruit, herbal or honey)

½ t. vanilla extract

3 T. cacao

3 T. ashwagandha powder

1 t. cardamom powder

1 t. cinnamon powder

1 t. ginger powder

1 t. grated nutmeg

Mix together the nut/seed butter, syrup 'n' vanilla. Blend in the powdered herbs, mix really well.

Roll into 1-inch balls (you many want to chill the “dough” a bit before rolling), dust in powdered cacao (or coconut, or hemp seeds, sesame seeds, or anything of your choice).

These will keep in the refrigerator several weeks, if they last that long. I invite you to make a batch, and enJOY.

Peace. 🕊

The Final Poblano Harvest

Today’s rains combined with the mild chill have inspired me to harvest the last of the poblano peppers. Seems a good a day as any to get them roasted. It’ll warm ‘n’ cozy up our little hut, along with the plum tomatoes I’ll be roasting.

Some of these poblanos will be used with dinner this evening, along with that cilantro ’n’ green onion in the basket, as well as the roasted salsa verde that I made the other day.

I don’t know what dinner will be yet, but I know it will be good.

Peace. 🕊 

Bomba

This morning’s harvest expresses the first step in making a batch of Bomba, a traditional Calabrese preserved condiment.

There’s probably as many ways to make this, as there are Calabrians who make it, yet the process is pretty constant, and is used for preserving a number of garden harvests.

These beautiful fruits are washed, so we move onto the next steps of chopping and /or slicing, salting them, placing them to mingle in a colander over a bowl, and weigh them all down so they may shed their excess water, I will revisit them tomorrow.

Here’s a link to a favored source that offers written, imaged, and video guidance, which is so fab for the beginner.

🕊

rose

Lunga di Napoli Score

Today I processed one Lunga di Napoli squash because it had some nibbles that might have compromise long-term storage. It’s the largest of five, and it weighed in at 25 pounds 'n' 13 ounces.

So... there's 16 pints in the canner, 8 trays in the dehydrator, two quarts puréed, and another two quarts raw, for the oven tonight.

Not too shabby for one squash!

Peace. 🕊

Giant Golden Amaranth

Our first half cup of giant golden amaranth is ready for the pantry shelves.

This is one stalk worth, and we have several more stalks hanging in the garage.

There’s garlic out there, too, that needs be cut 'n' sorted for planting 'n' keeping.  Not to mention the tomatoes in various stages of ripeness ’n’ unripeness taking up residence on our dining table.

There’s still much to tend before we tuck ourselves in for the winter. And park in the garage. And eat at the table. And there's still time to do it.

🕊🍂🌱🧄🌱🍂🕊

 

October Peace

October enters my world with a signature chill 'n' damp... a day to stay indoors, out of the gardens, to tend to that which has been harvested. I'll honor the first day of this month by tying the corn to hang, a practice that adds seasonal decoration to our little home, as well as grain to grind when we crave polenta, cornbread, and the like. I'll check on the winter squashes that are curing in the greenhouse, to see if any are ready to join their family in the cellar. There are jars of dried food and Medicine to label and place on their respective shelves. I'll warm the house by making Scarpaccia and more zucchini-oatmeal cookies. 

In the breaking light of this October morning I view the gardens, still full of harvests to be made in the coming days as I keep watch on the forecasts for that first day of urgent gathering. I see beds to be tidied, garlic and shallots to be planted... seeds to drop... and the eventual rest that comes with this month.

I see the quiet, introspective, shadow work that October offers... the reflective 'n' projective work that prepares me for the new year at Samhain, and for the darkest days of the seasonal spiral that delivers us to winter, and for the eventual rest that I, and Nona Gaia, have earned. Together.

🕊

Autumn 'n' Cabbage

And just like that ::snap:: it’s Autumn! 🍃🍂

We’re celebrating this first full day of the fall season with about 40 pounds of cabbage. 🥬

First, we started with the sauerkraut. I prepped the kraut on the mandoline, and my spouse massaged the salt into it… we both checked for flavor, and I added a little bit of sweet onion, and caraway seed as we layered it in our 5 gallon crock. It’s all tucked under its own brine to ferment in our cool room.

We used 8 cabbages for that (I think), and next I’ll be preparing three cabbages (with some red onion, peppers, and carrots) to sit overnight for the canned coleslaw I’ll be making tomorrow. Also tomorrow, or the next day, I’ll be making cabbage soup to can. And we’re leaving one head of cabbage aside to make my Nono’s Italian boiled dinner – cabbage, pepperoni, and potatoes in tomato sauce. A perfect autumn dinner!

We love cabbage. Can you tell?

Autumn blessings to you!

🕊

November Arrives...

... and with it, the new year. While the pace of the season relaxes, there's still plenty in the gardens to enjoy, harvest, preserve, and plant in this new year. Heck, we harvested four cucumbers from the last of the cuc plants just three days ago. That was a first; cucumbers at the end of October. ::nods:: Alongside our cold hardy plants there's still zucchini offering fruit despite the increasing chill. Zucchini in November. It's concerning, yet I'm grateful. And I'll be harvesting it today, since killing frosts may be upon us this week. These first couple of November days will overflow with urgency as I harvest all that cares not for freezing; the zucchini, celery, celeriac, lovage, thai basil, holy basil, tobacco, grindelia, calendula, probably the turnip 'n' rutabaga too will find a home indoors to sustain us with their nutrition 'n' Medicine in the months ahead. Later, before snow 'r extreme cold, we'll collect the last of the cabbage, kale, collards, choys, mustard 'n' radish greens, and dig up some horseradish after some frosts, but before the soil freezes solid. 

It's a season ripe with hellos  'n' goodbyes.

Every year, at this time (which varies in the linear measure), when the first true frosts hit I exhale a sigh of sadness, relief 'n' gratitude. It's so fitting to this melancholy 'n' mournful season of honor 'n' celebration.

I feel Earth, Nona Gaia, asking me - and all of us - to slow down, as she does every year at this time when autumn leans in. Yet this year I feel a distinct sense of urgency. It's disquieting to me, as opposed opposites tend to be... ripe with antithetical verve... verve that demands my attention (and yours) as we sink into the darkening arms of deep autumn.

I invite you to slow down (if only for a moment) to make time 'n' space to join me, to sink into some quiet 'n' stillness where you can perceive what's real 'n' true, good 'n' right, for all our kin... past, present, 'n' future. 

Peace. 🕊

Welcome to December's Deep Darkness

I'm taking December serious this year... with some earnest down-time, some ruminative stillness, quiet, and BEing. Because I can. And that's a mighty blessing.

December, in my hemisphere, invites us to delve deep into the expanding darkness of night. December reminds us it's our last chance in this turn of the wheel to do so. December cajoles us to quiet ourSelves... and others, to nest 'n' rest, to sleep more... to light candles 'n' fire... to simmer, stew, braise, roast... to embrace meaning in the long night of the soul... and then some.

I feel remarkably blessed (privileged) to be able to fully engage this December verve this year, without demands 'r distractions. Yule, I expect, will be especially sacred after honoring the darkness of the season in ways I've not done for years, quite possibly ever. While I anticipate the return of the light of our world at winter solstice, I shall continue diving deeper into the blessed darkness that the final days of autumn offer us. It's Good Medicine.

Given the nature of our shared world this year, I invite you - as much as you are able - to make time 'n' space to dive deep into the dark depths that only December delivers.

Peace. 🕊

The Season's Garden

Today is for rain. As was yesterday. And tomorrow snow is forecasted. 

Today I'll harvest in the rain. Yesterday I wallowed in October's melancholy and crocheted most of it away. And tomorrow I'll light a fire in the fireplace, light candles, light my inner worlds, and crochet some more.

There will be more harvesting after this snow fall, and the coming of the first hard frost, but it's almost ready to tuck in... the season's garden... and me.

🕊

A Mighty Invitation

The thriving October garden.
Blooms for the pollinators.
Past, present and future.

October is the month in which I prepare for the new year. My new year. 

It's the month, in my region, that the summer gardens release their hold. For those in my region who grow 'n' gather their own food and Medicine it's a busy month. Busy, to be sure, yet a variety of busy-ness that is paced and filled to overflow with meaning and value. A month of harvest, seeding and putting-by. A month of past 'n' present. And future.

It is a month of reflection for me. As I harvest, plant, preserve and be in the shifting landscape, I reflect on the activities, relationships, and so-called outcomes of the past year. I reflect on what has added value to my life and to the lives of others - near 'n' far, known 'n' unknown. I reflect on - and with - the ancestors in every way that I can conjure them... the green slime, Nona Gaia and all her - our - kin, the elementals, my parents and their lineages, and others, including those of the imaginal realms, all who join me and share their LoVe 'n' wisdom when I seek 'n' request such.

Traditionally, I seek projections my October reflections. Yet, in these days we live in projections hold less value. For me, that is. This past year is changed. The present is changed. And so, too, the future.

This year I hear the ancestors, all of them, requesting a shift in action, and as I sit - quietly... in stillness - I hear them whisper an invitation to return to the eternal now... to the present. 

It's a mighty invitation. And worthy, methinks. If I want to continue to affect positive change on the future, I must continue to affect positive change to the present. The conventional world (if you know me, you know what I'm talkin' about) feeds us anxiety for the past and want 'n' worry for the future. That conventional world invests in distracting us from the present... because that's the only place that change can happen. 

So, ironically, as I reflect and project, I recommit mySelf to the present... to positive change... for me, for you, for the past and future, for the earth, for life.

I invite you to join me. And the ancestors. It's a mighty invitation. And worthy.

Peace. 🕊

Welcome, Beloved October

 

In many ways this is a wind-down month for me. As the deciduous foliage sings 'n' dances in animated color of Autumn's sinking roots, many aspects of the earth prepare to rest, and what's left of significant harvests and autumn plantings are managed. It's a month of dramatic transition 'n' transformation, of like 'n' contrasting expressions, of dropping seeds 'n' gatherings harvests. It is a month of sensual poetry, filled with sounds, smells, sights, and ordinary 'n' extraordinary sensations. It is the autumnal month of the thinning veils, and the time to prepare for the veneration of the ancestors. All of them. It's my birth month, and the final month before the renewal of the Celtic agricultural calendar, so it is my month for reflecting, projecting... and being, as the earth-rooted activities wane with the daylight. It's a month that often has me dreaming of and anticipating the tuck-in verve of the month that follows.

It's a month - this year - that begins and ends with a full moon. It's a month I relish.

May you make time 'n' space to still yourself this month... to take in the full and blue moon that frames it, to open your senses - all of them - to honor the sensual extremes and nuance of October, to honor the earth, Nona Gaia, her gifts, her kin, and our shared ancestors. To honor the mystery and love of the season. And then... share it with others.

🕊
Peace.

Oil Preserved Orange Bananas

It's - for sure - tomato season. Every day there's more to harvest, and I'm so grateful, as I am every year. This year I'm growing four heirloom varieties: Cosmonaut Volkov, Opalka, Romany (known, commercially, by another name), and Orange Banana. And it's Orange Banana that I'm working with today. 

I still have plenty of canned tomato puree from past years, so this year I'm focused on other preserves and preserving methods for my paste tomatoes. One technique I stumbled on that I've never tried before is roasting and packing the tomatoes in olive oil. There's varying information out there, not on the process, but rather how long they keep in cool storage. Some say weeks. Some say months. So I'll be making a few batches to see what my results are, in the frig, and in our basement. 

In any event, the technique is super-simple: Clean, dry, slice the tomatoes (if using a cherry variety I'd poke a hole through them with a skewer, or slice in half). Place the slices on a baking sheet, salt and drizzle with extra virgin olive oil. Roast in a 420F degree oven for 15-20 minutes.

Then pack the tomatoes in a jar, leaving no room for air pockets, and 1.5 inches of headroom... 

Top with at least an inch of extra virgin olive oil, ensuring no plant matter is exposed to the air. Cap and keep in cool storage (IE: refrigerator, or a cool cellar). 

I'm anxious to see how these last. I'm equally anxious to use them in cooking. This first batch I made plain and plan to use it as the last jar in the test. I'll be making two more batches flavored with garlic and herbs.

I have preserved eggplant and peppers in oil with positive results, and am hoping the same holds true with tomatoes. Techniques like this are valuable to me (and to all of us), as they reduce water use, which is vital as clean, potable water continues to be raped 'n' ruined by the captains of greed 'n' profit... the captains of end stage capitalism. But, anyway...

I'll be harvesting more tomatoes to eat, to dry, to can, to ferment, and experiment with. Clearly, tomatoes are a staple in our little hut. ::nods:: 

Peace.  🕊

Welcome to September

 

And to a rumination of randomness...

As summer wanes this month, the pace of harvest 'n' preservation ratchets up, and when autumn arrives the pace will spring into overdrive. So it is that September dances with pace 'n' quickening.

All things considered, the rhythm of August felt balanced to me, and for that I am so grateful, as it was a month that beat with holistic challenge. For many of us. Now, with September's arrival, I know that cadence is preparing to surge, and I'm - yet again - grateful that I was able to make time 'n' space last month to reflect on July's transitions, transformations and actions, and I hope that I'll be able to manifest similar time 'n' space in the coming days 'n' weeks to reflect on August's integrations.

It's been a strange summer, for so many, if not all of us. I pray that we - collectively - are not waiting around for a return to any semblance of normalcy. As autumn approaches, this is our season to plant the seeds, bulbs, rhizomes, creative dreams of action to make manifest something fresh 'n' fair, good 'n' right, caring 'n' just. In big ways. In wee ways. In any way that fits.

As I move forward into September I will give attention my holistic plantings, as I consider behaviors and actions in the gardens, in my community, and in the greater world. I invite you to do the same.

To learn more about what's coming up this month and the special offerings click here.

Peace.  🕊

Autumn Fey

The sketch was made last week, and embellished with watercolor this morning.

My practice of heART journaling is always good Medicine.

Peace. 🕊

Holy Hot Pepper Sauce

Yesterday the big bowl came out to accommodate the big bag of hot peppers generously gifted by a family member. Organically grown, and so beautiful. I could feel the heat around my eyes just looking at them, and that intensified with washing... and I was actually sweating around my eyes when chopping them. It was a generous heap of hot peppers, and I'm grateful for them.

I made a quick hot sauce in the blender with horseradish-infused apple cider vinegar, salt and garlic. Half of that was sweetened with a touch of honey, the rest kept basic, with potential for additions after it melds and mellows. It's already tasty, and hot, but the flavor will improve after a week or so, when I'll be able to make more meaningful adjustments.

The rest was packed into a half-gallon jar layered with onion, garlic and kosher salt. I packed it down with my cedar "tool" throughout the day, until it produced its own liqueur to cover the peppers, which had shrunk by volume a third. And here it will continue to ferment on the kitchen counter (or thereabouts) until it reaches the flavor I'm after... or whenever I get around to using it. And I may add some other flavor-makers for the garden (the basils, shiso, chives...). When I'm ready to use it I puree it, bottle it, and label. Just like with botanical creations: Label. Label. Label. 

Last year I made an end-of-season ferment for sauce, with hot and sweet peppers, and just a bunch of whatever from the gardens. I forgot about until I noticed it in the spring. It was the best sauce ever. I'll be repeating the process again this year, for sure. I LoVe this kind of creative use-what-ya-got process, and fermenting is so accommodating to it, and I'm rarely - if ever - disappointed with the outcome. 

Peace. 🕊

This Year's Farmer's Wine

Yesterday I bottled two gallons of 2018/2019 farmer’s wine.

This sweet, organic, cane sugar wine was made with black currant, rhubarb, wild grape, rosehips, elderberry, bilberry, hibiscus, all coaxed to life with the first blooms of elder.

And there’s lots of love in there too.

I make this wine most every summer when the elders start to bloom. I pull all the suitable fruit from the prior year from the freezer, add it to the fermentation container with organic cane sugar, water, add an herb or two or three or more, and stir in the elderflowers to get the fermentation started. Once it gets going and the fruit is strained out, I continue to add sugar until the fermentation is done. No specific gravity readings, just keep adding sugar 'til the faeries are full. Then it rests and its carboy until autumn, when it gets bottled.

Being a wild fermentation, it’s a gamble, as you can never be certain as to how it will behave, and it’s typically sweeter than I prefer, but always spirited and so far has always been drinkable, and often quite delightful. Like this year. 

This batch is already drinkable, and quite nice for gentle, sweet sipping, and it makes an exceptional spritzer. ::nods::

Sláinte! 🕊

Welcome November

Welcome new year. Welcome winter's approach. Welcome the deepening darkness of the season.

October closed with a large pot of harvest stock simmering in the kitchen, and the baking of soul cakes as offerings to Nona Gaia, to her elemental kin (and mine), as well as to the more ordinary ancestors. Today, as November takes the stage, the stock will continue its simmer with more season-end harvests added to the pot. Like the spiral of life, this stock pot mimics the cycle, as will the nourishment it offers through the year ahead.

I love this time of year. But, then again, I love every season, for each offers its own unique challenges and blessings. Yet, as autumn spirals toward winter, the tasks of growing and preserving wind down, dusk and dawn close in on one another, and I find myself keeping quiet company with the gloamings of the day, as well as basking in the starlight even more than in summer. I feel Autumn's Shadow Medicine around me, and within me. And I embrace it.

After all, it is the new year for a proper heathen like me. Plus, it's my time of "birth" in this reality that we share. So October closes for me with a focus on harvests, sure, but also with pulling a single Crone Stone, and a numerological tarot spread for my linear age, each offering anchor meditations for my new year. Today I engage my thirteen-card full-year spread to further prepare me for the mysteries that await me in this next phase of my sol life journey.

So today - and every day - I honor the earth, Nona Gaia, all her children, the mystery of spirit, and I do my best to serve them in intention and in action. I am grateful for the challenge. And I pray that I am worthy. Ashe.

Peace.

October's Tenacious Rite and Ritual

Welcome October.

For me it is a month of frantic stillness. It is a month for vibrant tenacity, as the last of the lingering Hypericum perforatum blooms remind me. It's the month that ushers in the gifts of melancholy too. My planned activities are slim in October, though my objectives are many. There's still Food and Medicine harvests to collect and put by, there's craft and art projects to complete and make ready for sale, and there's the quiet "just for me" time to carve into each and every day.

This may be redundant, but October is, for me, a ritual month for rooting, reflecting and projecting. Holistically. I dive deep into my personal, interpersonal, social, business, global and universal choices and challenges, all the while doing my best to stay rooted in The Moment, in my realm of Gaia/Creation/Spirit. And I do my best to make time and space for daily meditation, journeying, and a daily "just for me" activity.

Every. Single. Day.

In this annual ceremony I glean lessons, or reinforce the mysteries that tug for more attention ~ nuggets of wisdom, one and all ~ and in doing so I am able to plan my coming year with at least some degree of conscious awareness. Holistically.

October is a month of tenacity for me, and one that, when I am true to the verve, consistently yields positive potential and outcomes, in mind, will, heart, body and spirit.

Peace.

Apple Starts

Today I went apple picking with a new and rather wonderful friend. You know, those rare folk with whom you feel a subtle, yet undeniable connection. So I came home with apples. Many apples, and now have many apple-ish projects lined up for the days ahead. But today I made the first batch of brandied applesauce and started - what you see here in the photo - a batch of apple-cardamom brandy cordial.

That's what I made today.