Cardamom Bunting

Bunting was one of those things that made Rosenhill so special. I don't know what it is, but those charming pennants get to me. Things that dangle and move in the wind generally fascinate me. I loved the ease that they brought to each day. They really excused the laid-back, free and open attitude that we all shared. White or floral bunting accompanied the barn weddings, bright bunting beautified the veranda and brought a little something extra to the yard. It just made everything more whimsical and chilled out.

When I was in Paris this winter, all the walking finally took the life out of my favorite pair of jeans. They're now ripped, or better put, disintegrating. I classify them as irreparable, but not un-recyclable. I had the idea to cut them up, along with some other old jeans, and make bunting out of them. I did just that. And now my favorite pants, that have spent many hours in the Swedish soil and mud, are hanging outside my window, conjuring up fond memories of last summer, and setting a marker for a new start here in Hawaii.

I picked a very auspicious day to arrive at Rosenhill. There was a full-force celebration with an incredible wedding in the barn, with lots of leftover wine and cheese... Drunk as a skunk to watch the sun rise at 4am, with a lovely conversation with the Swedish Waldorfians- we said the morning verse as the sun came up. Each in our respective languages, "I look into the world..." it was such a true-waldork moment, we took the sunrise so seriously, and "smelled" the life of the morning. 

Happy people dancing in the barn

Glass vases with beautiful flowers on the veranda at sunrise (or maybe sunset...)

Fun, dangling stuff on the veranda. My next quest is to get a hammock for my room. I'll ask Gunilla, the woman who sold hammocks at Rosenhill. 

Colorful bunting for all occasions  

Saturday night party, featuring blues, and a really awesome upright-bass player, prayer flags in the "bar" part of the barn... 

Evening in August, setting up for a Chilean/ Swedish wedding. It was chilly, so we lit a fire in a steel barrel drum thing.

This wedding couple brought their own bunting to hang up- it's quite a  typical thing. 

A few days after I arrived in Hawaii I started to cut the pants up, and I finally finished sewing the pennants together and stabilizing them with a dark blue wool string. Totally makeshift and probably nowhere near store-bought, weather-proof bunting... but my heart's in it and it makes me so happy to see it over my roof. The only issue is that my "neighborhood association" has extremely strict rules against things hanging from the walls. We're technically not even allowed to hang up Christmas lights. I think it's so sad. It totally takes away from people's desire to be create and spruce up their space the way they wish. It's already risky that I've got a 3'x4' pallet sitting on the overhang of my doorstep, filled with yogurt containers. My mom thinks it looks like some sort home-pharmacy--HAH, quite the opposite. Pharmaceutical companies can go straight to hell. Although, I suppose if you look at fresh food as a remedy for illness, then sure, there's a pharmacy outside my window. Basil is good for insomnia, and vegetables are generally the best thing for us.  Once again,

"Let food be thy medicine, and medicine thy food." ~Hippocrates. 

Pretty flowers that I picked at the beach yesterday. In a mason jar on my windowsill.

Jars and bottles I've collected over the years

Totally reminds me of evenings on the veranda

Jeans bunting over my "garden-to-be"

Last night I baked fresh cinnamon rolls from scratch, fulfilling a special Mother's Day wish/request. Most people probably don't know this, but Cinnamon rolls or buns originated in Sweden. It's a traditional baked good there, called Kanelbulle. Swedes even have a holiday dedicated to cinnamon rolls- on October 4th, Kanelbullens Dag! 

Kanelbulle for my Mama

So all these years I've been thinking that cinnamon rolls were just another corporate, American creation. Pillsbury's newest fad, Cinnabon--the franchise, chain-bakery at the corner of every mall and in every airport... Nope, going back to the ROOTS here. The recipe I used was from Heidi Swanson's food-blog, 101-Cookbooks. She's based in San Francisco and has the coolest recipes, ideas, photographs ever. I admire her. Anyway, I saw at the bottom of the recipe for Cinnamon Rolls, in fine print, "Adapted from the Cinnamon Bun recipe in Lotta Jansdotter's Handmade Living: A Fresh Take on Scandinavian Style by Lotta Jansdotter." The word "Scandinavia" tickled my eye and I had twice as much fun making them. 

The recipe called for a tablespoon of ground cardamom, and the scent transported me back into the kitchen at Rosenhill. Fresh cardamom was one of those things that Ingrid, the main chef, used with great pleasure. In curries, soups, bread, baked goods, here, there, EVERYWHERE. Cardamom would be one of the defining spices of Rosenhill's culinary creations. Well, maybe not, but it was definitely a proud and prevalent spice. The cinnamon rolls turned out absolutely delicious, smaller than Cinnabon's, thank god! Happy Mother's Day, breakfast in bed! Kanelbulle för min mor!