Starving Artist Ink.

each year i have bought a barmbrack in hopes of finding the ring hidden within.. somehow, it was never found- until this year, when the second slice was made, and a golden ring pulled from my mouth full of sweet bread. i found the ring! it is mine!  skipping around the house like i just won the last golden ticket to willy wonka’s…
all of that determination and celebration for a little vending machine metal ring. heh

i really love this little tradition of the barmbrack, but i think it would be even more fun to make it yourself with your kids, perhaps a loaf for you and one for a neighbour or two to share the wealth and good fortune within. (just be sure to let them know that there are treasures hidden inside)

i found a local etsian that’s selling authentic irish kits to make your own traditional barmbrack – here
isn’t that such a great idea?!  i love it.

what are your samhain traditions?
fire and bubbling cauldrons of hearty soup on the stove top
wicked ghouls and goblins at your door step
slow meditation as you stir your morning brew, watching the final leaves fall from the trees
releasing with them
setting intentions for the new year
as we hunker down, closing the windows tightly
preparing for the hibernation ahead
the death
and rebirth come springtime.

together, we stomp through a mush of amber leaves
soggy underfoot from days of constant drizzle
looking to the sky, broken by naked branches overhead
gangs of ravens taking over the silence of long ago migrating birds..

she stops and spins in circles
looking up at me, her cheeks red, rosy
carefully, she bends down
…collecting a treasure
delicately clasped between her finger and thumb
‘thank you’ i say
with recognition, she’s quick to gather more treasures
muddy leaves and twigs make their home in my waiting palm
pride beaming on her face

i let her lead the way
slowly zig zagging around the path
no rhyme or reason
until she plops down in the wet grass
..and so i plop down with her
whittling a piece of wood she kindly found-
with the pocket knife i received one christmastime years and years ago

the curly wood chips flecked against my black boot
each sliver reminding me of my papa

..this. i think… this moment now
this will live on in my memory forever
and- i think… damn it. i wish i had a picture of this.  but it’s not needed…
it’s imprinted with the colours around us this autumn season
becoming a patch on our quilt

the room glows a warm amber,
colourful christmas lights wrapped around our headboard
i stand, bouncing and swaying with her at my chest
she fights it… she’s so tired.
crying and pulling away from me
an urgency, impatience.. boils up within me like a red hot fever. so fast and full
i break into a loud sing-song sentence- begging her to stop, telling her to sleep.
these voices echo in my head- am i doing this right? yes yes.. i am. but am i? yes yes.. you’re doing what feels right to you… okay…
she will only be this little once.

she settles back into me
i rock and sway, humming a made up lullaby
as we keep rocking, my lullaby gets deeper and deeper.. slower and slower
lulling her head back and forth
she rests it, if only for a moment- against my chest.. and bounces back again. searching her surroundings, fighting her heavy eyelids.

breathing against her ear, her breathing now matches mine
slow slow slow… drifting

asleep…
our shadows dance against the opposite wall
i go to take one step, wood floor boards betray me with a loud creak

i sigh a deep breath into her curls
she sighs with me
…now snoring against my neck.

goodnight

i feel so betrayed. and no one is to blame but myself, possibly society. (just kidding. kind of)
it’s just such a simple fact…
i should be able to quickly name off each of those plants on the right column… these every day trees that surround us, constantly- for thousands and thousands of years. needing no label under them to tell us what they are.. they are there. silent witnesses to our lives. without them, what would we be? would we be?  and yet…

and then the loud labels on the left, that you’re able to mindlessly name off.. images that kids identify with, singing their jingles like an old school fairy tale ingrained in their minds. and what have these companies given to us? has it been positive?

sigh.
i don’t want it.
not that i want an all out war against media messages and advertisement.
just a balance.
can there be a balance?

i want a balance, of knowing what’s important to us/my family.. i crave to walk in the wood and easily identify what’s around me… an added bonus if i know medicinal/herbal/edible uses for them. how novel and idea.. heh.

balance, because of course- without one, we can’t have the other. without nature surrounding us, using her as a tool- we wouldn’t have this.
let’s not forget her. let’s not betray her. let’s not let our children grow up without honouring her magnificence.  all the while sporting their fancy clothes, driving their fancy cars, communicating around the world on their fancy what have yous. balance..
can we?

——
obviously this isn’t an original idea.
and i took this idea from a post that was shared originally by the santa cruz indigenous solidarity facebook page
along which they said

Part of our work is restoring our relationship to the land on which we live. We may be largely meeting our needs right now through global capitalism, but one day this immensely harmful system will expire, because it exploits and destroys without respect. When that day comes, it is this beautiful land beneath our feet that will keep us alive, provided that we learn to give back, honor the natural laws, and become once again the caretakers of the land. Through a time of great confusion and disintegration, the precious knowledge of how to live on the land with respect must be received, revitalized and carried forward.

they shared images of logos and plant leaves that were identifiable, but hand drawn. some people argued that the plants were easily mistaken by others since they were by hand. well whatever.  so. i made my own with real plant images.

*logo images in thanks to the world of google. plant images in thanks to the woodland trust

a constant drizzle from the sky for the past few days, one that when you step outside- you’d be forgiven for thinking you were on a boat in the middle of the sea
wild wind and soaked to the bone

i strapped claire on my chest (she’s getting too heavy to comfortably carry on my chest these days.. i REALLY need to start carrying her on my back- but i’m just not crazy about how that feels)
covered head to toe – bracing ourselves for a quick walk to the chemist in this weather
the streets were empty, shop fronts all aglow, set against a grey backdrop
chimneys puffing smoke in the air
a few heads peeking out from the shelters of pub doors
two school girls walk briskly, chatting away.. their pathetic, torn, limp umbrella sheltering their faces

my girl with her one red cheek and insatiable gnaw
we get to where we’re going
my wellies loudly squeak against the floor
we’re like wet dogs…

we make it home and strip out of our soggy clothes
she looks deliciously warm and cuddly in her one-piece pajamas..
i give her a dose of chamomilla
and begin chopping carrots and onions up for a stew

the house smells rich and warm

*inhale deep*

this life. rich and warm.

these simple moments.. the art in the everyday.