Alas, alack, it seems our Imbolc dinner party is going to be canceled this year. We’ve had a roughly annual gathering for almost 10 years now so I am so sad that we can’t just figure out how to work it with our new shop/baking schedule. It seems at some level this season, all of our celebrations are canceled by something or another. It is tough trying to have a life and a business. I am trying not to let it get us down but I can tell we are all worn pretty thin and have little to look forward to right now.
But there is snow coming and hopefully it will be the pretty kind to blanket us and keep us cozy and wintery. It is supposed to cool way down by the end of the week which I hope sticks around a bit (not that I care for the cold, but I care for all the things it allows — like hibernation for such things like maple trees, lilacs, and other assorted lovely things, I could use some hibernation…) so we can have a rebirth in the Spring.
I desire a little mending time, further garden planning (I’ve got Kavasch’s Medicine Wheel Garden book at the ready for coffee breaks), and arty reimaginings of this hibernation/rebirth scenario. I desire slow-cooked stews and warm buttered bread, tea with honey, soaking baths, and reading by the woodstove fire. I’m in article writing mode, working on developing a couple of little lectures for our pamphlet publishing (Rubble Books) — Punk & American Transcendentalism, Elemental Jaunts, perhaps a return to old themes (I was reminded today how I almost went to skool as an English major focusing on post war Japanese and German literature, and then worked on an art book on American eugenics), and Bread Philosophy.
I think the baker is dreaming of afternoons of bookbinding, tiny book making, poetry and coffee, maybe a little Scotch. His needs are pretty simple; he likes to chop wood, read books, listen to records. He’ll be getting ready to clean up the sugar shack soon so he can tap and boil sap to syrup in March. The kid will be happy to have some snow to dance and sled in (I don’t think we were able to have a sledding party/race last year — maybe we’ll be lucky this year!).
Until then, Doris (the starter) bubbles away and builds the beautiful breads. We will keep buying the small press books that make us think, put together gift baskets, and hope the woodpile holds out.
Here’s to staying cozy…
Rock Bottom Homestead 