i have been living in the same place, the same house for almost twenty years now. I have been living here all the while dreaming of there. Never moving or changing the scene for fear of it being too hard, of not wanting to upset delicate routines of children and thinking that staying grounded in the one place is what is best for everyone; even though i have longed for as long as i can remember for different, for new, for something other than here. I envied people who took chances, who moved around, who were always heading somewhere new , some place fresh. Over the years i have been seeking out possibilities of where we may see ourselves, but really nothing ever felt right, not right enough to uplift an entire tribe. I have found it hard to be inspired having to stay in the one place, my creative flow always searching for something new to draw from, searching out scenes that have become all too familiar now. Yet this house of ours has served us well. It has housed and nourished five children from babies and provided a safe place for life to unfold. It has been the solid foundation when much in our lives has been volatile over the years. It has sheltered us from many wounds and ever so gently nurtured us back towards ourselves. It has been as much as i dreamt of different, in the end, our saviour. Something deep within says it’s time now. Time for letting go of this place we have only ever known as home. It’s time now for a new beginning in a new house. Our story within these four walls is inching towards the end, and I am unafraid, and unresisting towards the process, as i know this is exactly the way it is meant to be. Life is asking us to begin again the intricate journey of unfolding ourselves in some place new. And i am looking forward to the story it entails.
There is nothing simpler and nicer than wandering outside and collecting the eggs to then cook them up immediately for breakfast. If you have ever had eggs like this you will understand what I’m taking about..
ingredients: sourdough bread , free range fresh eggs, organic butter, organic baby asparagus spears, 1 avocado, juice of a lemon, olive oil, sea salt and cracked pepper, a couple of free range kids
method: Heat a non stick grill pan on low, put on a small pot of water for the asparagus. With a glass cut holes into the centre of the sourdough, lightly butter on both sides and put aside. Gently snip with fingers the ends off the asparagus and place into the water when it comes to the boil. Blanch for 2-3 minutes, then remove and run under cold water to stop the cooking process. Slice the avocado all the way around and remove the seed. Scoop the flesh out into a bowl and add the juice of half a lemon and season. Mash with a fork and set aside. Lightly oil the grill pan and turn the heat up to a medium heat then add the sourdough slices, as many as you can fit onto the pan. While toasting lightly season with salt and cracked pepper. Allow to toast for a minute or so then begin cracking your eggs into the holes of the bread. Allow the bread to cook to a buttery golden brown before flipping over to cook the other side. The second side will take less time than the first. Try not to over cook the eggs. When nicely toasted, take out of the pan and set aside on a board. While the grill pan is still hot add a little more olive oil and add the asparagus, gently sear for a minute, lightly season with salt. Serve the asparagus spears on the toasts, and add a spoonful of the avocado mixture to the plates. Give thanks and enjoy!
April has been, trying ever so hard to purposely slow down, about creating new humble spaces for babies and chickens, challenging teenagers on their ideas about doing when all I am wanting is in the not doing. it has been about getting clear and being still, still enough to hear my own inner voice. It’s been about watching the worry, leaning away instead of falling into it. It’s been about knowing that whatever is playing out in this moment will eventually move on if i allow myself to let it go. Im letting go of a lot lately. We have created great spaces for celebrating birthdays and explored new places, we spent more time in the garden, more time just being with life. April has been a time for new growth. I am grounded and for now i’m comfortable in the not knowing of what lyes ahead. I understand now, that everything is as it should be, that life is merely unfolding..
The simplicity of
feeding the chickens
who laid the eggs
for me to cook
to the children.
can all of life possibly be this simple?
I am so thankful that my children are living just a little of this simplicity, in between ipads and youtube train clips. I’m thankful that my three-year old with autism can tell the difference between a carrot and a potato and that I often find play dough in muffin trays in my oven because he has been making cookies. Both of our little ones enjoy cups of tea in the morning, not because they are thirsty, more so because they already in their young minds understand the sacredness of that first morning cup, where sleepy eyes and heads are not quite awake enough yet for the beginning, for play. They will learn where their food comes from and that they don’t really need much to keep their bellies content.. maybe just a few chickens roaming in the yard.
baked sweet potato chips
ingredients: 1 whole sweet potato, olive oil, sea salt flakes
method: pre heat the oven to 180°C. Peel and thinly slice the sweet potato and lay in a single layer onto a baking tray lined with baking paper. lightly drizzle with olive oil and season with the salt flakes. Cook in the oven for 20 minutes, keeping a watch that they don’t burn. When crisp remove from oven and allow to cool before storing in a jar or container.
‘What is it you do?
I’m a mother
‘Yes, I know that but what else, before that?
She feels her heart drop to the pit of her stomach , as she frantically searches her mind for a more suitable answer.
A mother, just a mother.
He is oblivious in the knowing, that in that moment all worthiness was stripped away and her heart was silently crying an abundance of tears
when did it become not enough? when was it that becoming a mother became so undervalued? It is true, there are parts of myself, parts that are not a mother or a wife but are simply me. They are most of the time in the shadows or only seen as a glimpse now and again and as mothers, the caretakers of our families we know only too well that this is a selfless journey we have chosen. We move through our days nurturing and nourishing our families by meeting needs and with an abundance of love. Often allowing all those who matter most to us to move on their journeys ahead of our own. We wait patiently, maybe for only a few minutes of solitude, or a full nights sleep, or enough time to take a bath, read a chapter in a book, or a pause long enough to feel the warmth of the sun on our faces, maybe the bigger things we will have to wait a little longer for.
It is undeniably deplorable that the very words ‘ I am a mother’ are so often perceived as insignificant and demeaning. That even I, when asked this was not able to convey my own importance and sacrifices here, that I was, in that moment diminished to feeling like it wasn’t enough. I believe that if it wasnt for mothers, so many that are blessed to be living up to their ambitious dreams and walking the journeys that they have chosen for themselves without the need to pause or defer to raise the children, might look upon us in a new light and with gratitude in their hearts.