04/12/2025
As the wheel of the year turns π‘
As the final full moon of 2025 hangs heavy in the sky π
As we immerse fully into the descent of winter βοΈβοΈβοΈ
As we navigate our Wintering π―π―π―
As our planted seeds snuggle safe into the earth, under the cave of our deep hibernation safely awaiting the Springtime flourish π±π±π±
As we prepare for 'deep rest' π΄π₯±πππ
Hear at Chillingham Towers, we are flowing with the changing seasons in our meal preparations π₯π§
π§π«π°
Broths aka Ancestral Potions
These are the broths that my Mother made, she taught me to bake as child. However, she didn't teach me to make these broths π€
She knew the codes for the preparation of these simple yet nourishing meals lay deeply embedded in my DNA. That the whisper of my ancient Grandmother's & Grandfather's would nudge my fingertips with one more pinch of this, a little peck of that, another cheeky ingredient gleaned from leftovers π₯£
The wooden spoon stirring in the alchemical love and wisdom as a recent Grandmother gently tugs on my forearm, mixing in her love right beside me, as I feel her lips graze my cheek with a little pecking kiss π
I know deep in my bones the magnitude of these deeply nurturing broths expands way further than it's warming, substantial nutrition, it also feeds my soul, my kinship with my Scottish roots and brings my heart into alignment with my energy work π΄σ §σ ’σ ³σ £σ ΄σ Ώ
It also in this very sharing makes me realise exactly what my Dad meant when he said, "eat up your broth bairn, it'll stick tae yer ribs" π¦΄
