Hello Lovely Readers (if you’re still poking around this neglected little space),

I never did get savvy enough to instal analytics to track locavore traffic, so it’s following has been a bit of a mystery to me. Comments and emails have been the only sense I’ve had of the site’s popularity, and I never expected to hear from so many people from all corners of the globe, from gardeners and farmers, urbanites and homesteaders, advertisers and journalists.

It’s been so heartwarming to know that this space is enjoyed by you!

Retreating to this little pocket of creativity has been intensely rewarding. It filled a void of self-expression and gave me the blank canvas I needed to create. But as my life shifted in new directions with the closing of one year and the opening another, my desire to be here died out. At first I wondered if it was a phase, if I just needed a break. But it felt liberating not to be here - like running away and sensing underlying guilt, but feeling so free.

A lot has changed. Last autumn I started getting itchy feet. After five years of stimulating but unstable work with environmental NGOs, I lost my job when funders backed out at the eleventh hour. Not easy in the midst of putting a beloved cat down and managing a farm on my own, but it was the tipping point for some major internal adjustments. After a few months of soul searching, painting, and job hunting, I bid adieu to country life in the new year.

I haven’t severed myself completely from Gothic Cottage. I found the ideal tenants in my bee keeper friend and her partner. I got an exciting new job with an environmental consulting company and said goodbye to non-profit work. I moved back to energizing Toronto. My parents fell out of love. My mom got a sweet puppy. I got bangs. And I fell in love again.

In the midst of all this change one thing has been crystal clear: I need to write a book. A book is quite a departure from checking into a little website and stringing thoughts together. It’s kind of scary! I can’t ignore this pull though, and the past year has provided ripe material.

So I’m going to close this locavore chapter and sign up for a non-fiction writing course. I’m about to move into the second floor of a cool Victorian house in one of my favourite Toronto neighborhoods. My wee writing oasis in the trees. I’ll still grow veggies - my toms are already screaming to be potted up - but my focus is more on flowers these days. I’ll also visit Gothic Cottage for eggs and honey, but I’ll happily return to the urban buzz.

Thanks so much to you all for stopping into this space over the past few years and sharing your thoughts and dreams. You’ve inspired me with your words and I wish you all the very best!

Andrea

Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The onions weren’t hung by the chimney with care, because time this year, Andrea didn’t have to spare. So up from the sofa she sprung energetically, to get busy braiding onions for friends and family.

My eleventh hour braiding session was a dusty, messy affair. These lovely little beauties should have been braided when their tails were still long, green and completely intact. My 88 onions had been sitting, tails and all, in a laundry basket in my cellar for over four months. The bulbs were in excellent shape but the tails were pretty brittle.

Luckily there were enough long tendrils to make braiding possible. Just. These babies had to be handled with extreme care. They couldn’t be wrapped up under the tree; they definitely can’t be hung. No onion slinging here. But they did get lots of Ooos and Aahs on Christmas morning. And they did get thrown into a scrummy Boxing Day quiche.

Don’t follow my tardy lead. Next summer, get braiding early and follow these directions.

Hope you all had a fabulous Christmas. Happy Holidays!

I can’t tell you how good this feels. If I had to put words to the feeling I’d say it feels as good as hugging Asha while she laughs and feeling her whole torso jiggle.

Gothic Cottage is inching ever closer to being a cozy and complete house. The living and dining rooms have been transformed from this, to this, to this, and now at long last to this.

My role in the grand remodeling has also transformed from visionary, to cheerleader, to designer. I’ve had some near-tears venting sessions over the length and magnitude of this project and I’ve cried happy tears over floorboards. On the whole though, I surprised myself with my patience and resilience. (I’m sure that all the curve balls I was thrown over the past year were the ultimate test of my patience and resilience!)

And now, at long last, I’m on the home stretch with only a leaded glass window to be installed above the door, a sconce light to be hooked up, and a few more coats of paint and wallpaper to be hung in one room. I’m gobsmacked by the transformation. I can’t stop admiring my red pine plank floors accentuated by the blue-grey walls. I couldn’t find the perfect shade of paint but the helpful staff at my local Benjamin Moore decorators created this colour for me based on the cover of the new Farrow & Ball catalogue.

I was a bit rushed before leaving for part of the holidays but soon I’ll post more photos that reveal the true depth of this unique grey. I absolutely love it, and because it’s a special order I get to name it! I think I’ll have to call it Silver Grey Lining. A bit cheesey but fitting, don’t you think?

:: the meanest, baddest Liger* that ever lived, on the meanest, baddest finished wood floors (*I can’t take credit for the part leopard, see belly,  part tiger, see all the rest, reference from Napoleon Dynamite)

:: Rashaan Ahmad’s ‘Pain On Black’ and The Stepkids ‘Shadows On Behalf - quite possibly my two favourite new tracks of the year. I can’t stop playing them over and over. You can download them here and queue to the 0:45.40 mark. Go now! Musical bliss guaranteed.

:: snowy boughs - can you really ever get enough snowy boughs before Christmas?!

:: movement - I’ve been going non-stop lately (hence the terrible gap in posts) but every hour is just so packed with momentum, excitement, new tracks

:: holiday buzz

:: stylish new wallpaper ordered for the kitchen (the walls are too bumpy for paint)

:: shoveling snow - it means we’ve got enough to shovel

:: that I don’t live in London, Ontario - that’s just too much snow

:: candy cane soap - Christmas in the shower

:: my first stew (yes, really) and first stab at the brilliant Alice Waters’ ‘The Art of Simple Food’. My version got rave reviews but I credit my neighbour’s delicious pastured stewing beef… and the half bottle of merlot that went into the pot.

:: painting - yep, I really love painting walls. I especially like wiping my painty fingers all over my bright yellow track pants, demoted (or perhaps promoted) to Painting Pants.

:: David Sedaris’ ‘Me Talk Pretty One Day’ - the ultimate audiobook accompaniment to painting

:: knots - so many intricate knots revealed after being sanded and refinished last week (not loving the knots in my back from acrobatic painting of ceilings but the pain is worth it… soon, very soon the painting will be a wrap!)

While I slapped white paint on my living and dining room walls, lacey white flakes fell outside.

I matched the snow layer for layer. As it got whiter outside, it got whiter and brighter inside.

What a difference fresh walls make! For the first time in a year and a half I’m looking at finished walls with real paint in the main living space of Gothic Cottage. It’s just drywall primer but it sure lifts the spirits. Today, the ceiling will be transformed to ’steamy summer air’… sounds like a fart that just won’t quit but I do like the shade of creamy white.

In the coming days the walls will show off ‘take me out’ grey and more of that steamy summer air. I’m using Benjamin Moore Eco Spec paint - no VOC, low-stink. I’ll give you a grand unveiling when it’s finished this week. After some hiccups and vacations the clock is finally ticking down now to my mid-December ETCR (estimated time of completed renovations). Just in time to deck the halls and dance around this space with bells on!

Some of us are soft.

And some are prickly.

Some very, very prickly.

And others lure with softness but bite with bitter venom.

I’m so very grateful for all the loving, generous, thoughtful soft people in my life.

The world is more peaceful, inspiring and embracing with you in it.

I was visiting my folks a little early to get the grapefruit and oranges but that didn’t detract from the awe of having the fruit ripening right in the backyard.

And olives in the front yard! I should plan my next visit to coordinate with citrus and olive season and figure out what to do to ‘make’ olives. If only I could bring kalamatas and marmalade home I’d have Christmas gifts sorted.

Up the road at the botanic gardens in Tucson this mescal tree’s branches were loaded with peanut-like shells holding these…

darling little red mescal beans.

And no need for sugar - agave plants of all shapes and sizes are everywhere. 

Oh the mind boggles!

While the garden was dying off at the farm, flowers were still in bloom in sunny southern Arizona and on the hot days we were greeted by stunning butterflies and honey bees. A nice man at the botanic gardens told me what the butterfly above was called but I can’t remember now.

Such beautiful, delicate flowers. I wish I’d sampled the local honey…

Sunshine, desert, mountains, art, heat, yeeeeessss!

I’m off tomorrow for a week in Arizona and I can’t wait to sip on a limey margarita, and eat fresh grapefruit everyday. In the sunshine. Did I mention it’ll be hot?

Ahhhhh vacation, how I’ve needed you so.

(Photo credit: Tori Foster) 

Tori and I ventured across the bridge to Detroit yesterday. I’d read about the city’s troubles since the race riots and the white flight of the 1950s and ’60s - the highest violent crime rate in the US, political corruption, abandoned buildings - but I wasn’t prepared for the feeling of being in that environment. We were warned by border guards to stick to Jefferson Street while navigating the sketchy downtown. They were shocked that we were coming to Detroit for an afternoon, and recommended we head straight the malls in the suburbs.

Malls aren’t my thing.

The old train station above was the first obvious shock. Such a stunning ghost of a building. There are blocks upon blocks of beautiful ghostly shells.

That is, until you’re into the very core of downtown where new buildings rise among the boarded-up remnants and GM towers over the city like The Death Star.

Eerie.

After a few hours touring around Detroit, Gross Point, 8 Mile, and other burbs Tori and I were extremely grateful to have a cozy place and a hot home-cooked meal to return to across the bridge.

I hope things turn around for Detroit.