As I stepped outside to look at the stars briefly before bed, a habit picked up from my dad, the full moon seemed to somehow be suggesting to me that it was the start of a new year. This turning point of autumn felt like a more fitting time to think of change, not a new beginning as such but a reinvention of sorts, an inward reflection, a hibernation maybe. Staring up at the sky with a noticeably cold wind blowing from the north I felt like I was finally catching up with myself. Whilst last week the equinox was symbolising balance I now felt we’d reached the tipping point; time to weigh up and reassess.
The chaos of the summer and week after week of commitments has faded, it dwindled whilst I reignited with my own plans and ideas. Room to create, remember, to come back to myself. This new ‘new year’ marks the start lighting fires, warm blankets, leaf kicking, hot chocolates and wild walks. But also, just like nature itself, it means we can also accept that it’s a time to unwind, relax and if we feel like it, we can isolate ourselves and look inward.
Next morning I pulled on my wellies and took my winter coat on its first outing, walking down the lane looking for fungi, picking haws and rosehips. Over the fields, down to the town, I watched the Rathlin Ferry arriving into the harbour and felt a calmness, I was reassured by the rooks and jackdaws whirling around in the breeze above, I felt grounded in the mucky leaf-strewn puddles. Noticing these little things always comforts me. Whilst shoving the rosehips in my pocket, my hand found a little stash of dried gorse petals which I must’ve gathered when the first beautiful yellow flowers appeared back in March, holding springtime preserved. I smiled at my funny habits of forgetting what I’ve pocketed. Later, driving back from a school pick up I saw the first Gorse back in full bloom, Mother Nature was dishing out some divine coincidence.
I don’t know why I feel so contemplative and profound this week, am I speaking like an enthusiastic life coach? Am I saying a lot without saying anything at all? Whatever it is I am finding it vital to rethink what’s important, to let go of things that don’t serve me. I celebrated this personal new year with a beautiful swim in the Atlantic, the tide had just turned and the roaring white waves tumbled in with purpose. It felt like some kind of ceremony as the water ritualistically pulled my negativity out into the sea beyond. Having a pint with friends and catching up with my brother and partner were also excellent perspective shifters; the warmth of being in good company, laughter and the familiarity of family banter.
Literally, I am now suggesting to LIVE LAUGH LOVE. Yikes, help.
I took time to make a few things I had planned to do last year and didn’t get around to; rosehip syrup, sea buckthorn curd and an elderberry vinegar. There’s ACTUAL, real time to do these things now that all the little darlings have gone out to school in the morning.
Sea Buckthorn is a stunningly beautiful plant, especially in its location at the White Rocks, where it’s abundant amongst the marram and clings to the dunes with a backdrop of Limestone cliffs and the sandy beach stretching to Portrush, the Atlantic stretching out to The Skerries and the headland of the Giant’s Causeway and beyond. Whilst beautiful it is also invasive so pick to your heart’s content!
This curd is very easy and super delicious with a funky mango zestiness, a bizarre unexpectedly exotic taste. I used it to sandwich some dainty little spelt shortbread which we served at the Dinner at Ursa Minor at the weekend.
SEA BUCKTHORN CURD
250 ml sea buckthorn juice
4 eggs
135g unsalted butter, chopped
200g golden caster sugar
Pick your seas buckthorn using secateurs and protect your arms from the spiky thorns, put the branches into your freezer for a couple of hours or until the berries have frozen.
They will pop off very happily when frozen, put in a pan and just cover with water, bring to the boil and simmer for 5 minutes of until the berries are soft, sieve the juice into a bowl, press down on the pulp to get all the sunshiney orange from the skins.
Now measure out 250ml into a pan and add all the rest of the ingredients, put on a medium heat stirring constantly for around 10 minutes until thickened, keep in a jar in the fridge.
I recently started reading a book on Irish seasons and while I was surprised to learn that in years gone by, this time of year was 'new year', it did also feel like it made sense to me!
I love your descriptions of the natural world and the idea of looking at the night sky before bedtime. I am feeling the sense of a New Year year too, maybe its the end-of-the-wheel-of-the-year influence or simply the act of bringing in the garden's harvest and preserving food for the year ahead.