
two lipsticks and some truth . in my voice
The trick of keeping it real. And keeping up. There is a moment, if you wait for it, when someone stops making noise and you finally see them. And then you are officially - kept up.
The Kitchen’s Garden Newsletter & Old-Time Bedtime Stories. Welcome to sustainability, homegrown food, and living in step with the land. Join me for small farm adventures, city gardens with country hearts, and soothing bedtime stories to end your day.
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The trick of keeping it real. And keeping up. There is a moment, if you wait for it, when someone stops making noise and you finally see them. And then you are officially - kept up.

There is no new water coming, only the water we’ve always had, moving from ice to cloud to root to river; when we pull it up to grow what doesn’t belong somewhere, we’re borrowing against the house.

An afternoon alone in a pub, noticing strangers holding themselves together, holding in their soft middles while hiding their soft feelings

The Silurian Period: Long, Long Ago, and Way Down Below Uncle’s Field.

Is this story about a weta or a moa or me. You choose.

Every garden is standing on ground that has buried far more than it has grown, and if you listen closely enough, it will tell you secrets.

On murdered princes, a soldier fighting a war that ended thirty years ago, a six year old boy who vanished from Tibet, a duchess and my father’s violin, which was almost certainly a Stradivarius.

I am writing about Uncles Field in Illinois - its soil, its journey, its shifting tectonic latitude, its dinosaurs and ice ages and everything that built towards this mornings sunrise.

This is a conversation about muffins but really it is not about muffins at all. It is about freedom.

An argument against passivity. You don’t wait to be warm. You don’t just pay what it costs. You make warmth, and in using it twice - you stay warm.

Grief that doesn’t perform, family that holds you without fuss, a woman who deserved her mourning, and a cousin who jumped onto a moving fire engine. New Zealand.

The Inca, the whales, Sister Marion and Romeo and Juliet. A stormy day in a convent above the bay.

We are global. This is a good thing. But anything imported has a transport price tag. And war and drought and disease can affect our food too.

Too many kids and not enough potatoes and how to live frugally and plan for the future without a garden or a farm. I was there.

Keeping an eye on things. On oil. On groceries. On prices. In Illinois and in Melbourne.

On trains. I was invincible. Or at least that is how I remember it. Invincible is just a frame of mind.

And a moment with a postman.

Because our brilliant minds can think about two things at once. Anyone with children in the house will know this. This is a day in my life - right here. In the now.

This article incorporated extensive research and I ended up with so much more information to pass on to my own mokopuna and my children. You are one of them maybe.

How many years on the beach before you realise the sea was here first - and she will have the last word. One narrow spit of land. A thousand years of change.

When the news sits heavy, sometimes we need to go back to the barn. To find our calm. Come visit Daisy and Sheila and co.