wild food, wild places, wild times
It is very cold, and mist curls through the bronzing leaves of the forest canopy, turning trees into hulking shadows, half-hidden keepers of old secrets. The feeling in my fingers is gone. Dewdrops collect in my beard and eyebrows, and I cannot feel my nose. I am shivering, and somewhat lost, but I do not…
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January, so far, has been unseasonably mild, with temperatures rarely dropping below zero. Whilst this has meant warmer toes and lower heating bills, I long for the beauty of a hoar frost like last year’s, when all was crystal bones. It has rained persistently and hard, though with careful clearing of ditches and waterways we…
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Winter is all about preparing for spring. We tidy and dig and prune trees and wait and wait. We choose and buy seeds, and I’m already planning what to cook, preserve, and ferment with the produce we’ll grow. Next year we’ll save our own seed, but this year we buy what we need from the…
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The mornings are cold. Frost clings in sharp little lances to everything, the sky is a pale blue blanket, and we all shiver underneath. My morning routine is a chilly one; let chickens out, defrost chickens, feed chickens, stare at the sunrise until my eyes freeze over, drink tea. I worry that the chickens are…
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kieran jefferson 