I love that porridge rhymes with forage. It feels like you would go out gathering the stalks of grain, and carry them home, and then brew them up over a fire in milk and eat them. Feels both cosy and adventurous.

Survival Day gleanings. This is what I cleaned out of my bag after we got home. Started out to hear the speeches and to march, ended up with our hearts broken and opened up all over again, robust in anger and delicately rejoicing, heart flooded like mangrove roots with a myriad various Indigenous faces including […]