Sow what?

Well, I may not be able to sew, but we can try our hand at sowing. Last night Andrew transferred some carefully selected seeds into a seed starter "greenhouse" (basically a divided plastic tray with a cover). Some of these seedlings should start to sprout in as little as one week! Then they will be transferred into peat pots that can later be planted directly into the soil. I am becoming more and more convinced that there will be no room to sit on our porch this summer.


Here's what we got cooking:

Black from Tula Tomato

Sweet Pea Currant Tomato

Brown Berry Tomato

Beam's Yellow Pear Tomato

Greek Oregano

Purple de Milpa Tomatillo

Basil-Genovese

Wapsipinicon Peach Tomato

Miniature Chocolate Bell Pepper

Cilantro

Succulence

We've slowly been adding to our repertoire of succulent plants over the past few years. Let's face it: they're pretty cool. Sometimes I have to resist taking a big, juicy bite out of their fat, water-storing leaves. If nothing else, they are great examples of adaptation (read here to learn more about their water-saving features). Here are our latest additions:

Green at Heart

Since Andrew has started working for Topiarius, I've noticed a different rhythm to our home: one that is more in tune with and accepting of the seasons. Each season commands a respect, has something to offer and has something to prepare us for (if nothing else, the next season). A week or so ago, I found Andrew poring over a catalog of plants and seeds, after which he excitedly (and cautiously) rattled off his plans for our back porch this spring and summer. I could almost see the visions of Tom Thumb Pea plants dancing in his head. Not long after that, he brought a bag of hibernating tulip bulbs up from the basement. He took them out of the paper bag, dusted them off and then proceeded to store them in our crisper where they will remain until planting time. (Apparently, tulip bulbs need to be kept cold for a period of time before planting, but they would be too cold outside.) And if that were not enough, I also learned that bulbs cannot be stored with fruit. So, in went the bulbs and out went the fruit. And thus I was introduced to bulb care.

Despite the ever prevalent wintry temperatures of these past weeks, the energy of spring is upon us, if no place else than in Andrew's hopeful plans. This week he has started taking Botany 1 at The School of the Chicago Botanic Garden, so I'm sure it is only a matter of time before plant taxonomy and classifications are rolling off his tongue. While it is good to accept the present, there is a time to look ahead. And I've embraced Andrew's carefully laid plans to usher Spring our way. I've enjoyed discussions about what herbs we'll be growing and Andrew's intention to grow heirloom tomatoes from seed this year. I love to open the back door and envision a porch laden with green life. I like that our refrigerator's traditional role is being disrupted, and I'm grateful that every time I go to grab a piece of fruit, I'm reminded of the sacrifices that must be made for the sake of preparations. Spring is surely coming.

Tomorrow is Andrew's birthday, and as he prepares to celebrate a new year, in many ways, so do we all.

Christmas Trees: Use No. 2

Give the illusion that your city-dwelling is set in a backwoods oasis.

Communi-tree

We put our tree up this past weekend and we wondered how simple trees with simple trimmings can look so beautiful. Several years ago, for our first Christmas as a married couple, we invited our dear friends over to help us fashion the ornaments for our first Christmas tree. We purchased some materials, poured some wine and laughed over what would soon become cherished symbols of friendship, creativity and a new life together. Every year, Andrew comes up with some newfangled tree topper, usually using something from around the apartment. So far, it hasn't been the same twice.

I like what a Christmas tree represents: light, change, preparation, nature, creation, memories... And specifically, I like that our tree represents a taste of our community, of those we hold dear - those of our past, our present and those yet to come.

Update: Tomatoes

Oh if you could only have seen Andrew's face this morning as he picked three bloom-rot free tomatoes with clean, shiny bottoms and displayed them on our windowsill. They will have a very short shelf life; indeed, they are probably being diced and spliced as we speak. Yummy.

What's your house sign?

I just know you're looking for something to distract you as you pine for the weekend. I saw this over at House in Progress: Housetrology. Answer some highly scientific questions to determine your House Sign. I took the quiz twice and found myself a cross between a Colonialista and an Urbanist. Aren't you glad you don't have to figure these things out on your own?

Porch Dwellers

We have expanded the list of inhabitants on our porch this summer. Andrew's new job has inspired him to invest in our own "landscaping" and the payoff has been great. One hibiscus, one hydrangea, two flower boxes and one tomato cage later, our back porch has turned into a virtual garden jungle (indeed, we seem to have adopted a more "natural/wild" look than anything coiffed or controlled). I spend many an evening prying Andrew away as he tends to and cares for our new charges. Here's the roll call:

Hibiscus: Affectionately known as "Hibby", this plant is on her second or third life. We purchased her in early spring and kept her inside until it finally became warm enough to move her to the porch. We think she underwent a bit of a shock in acclimating to the outdoors, and didn't bloom for several weeks in protest. But then we reaped our reward and she has been averaging about five blooms a day. Right now, she is recovering from either being root-bound or possibly some kind of disease in which she lost most of her leaves. Slowly but surely, more new growth is emerging every day.


Tomato: We have some Jetstars and a hybrid variety which look promising until they start to ripen. We think they have some type of bloom rot and Andrew has been adding garden lime in an effort to combat the problem. Successfulness TBD.


Hydrangea: Ah, the beloved hydrangea. Always a hit, ever beautiful. These came home with Andrew from work and have been a joy since.

Voila!

If you've been in our kitchen, then you know that counter space is at a premium. Given the situation, we've done pretty well (Thanksgiving has presented the most need for innovation in prepping, storing and serving space). Shortly after we moved in, Andrew developed plans for building a concrete counter-top table that would serve to almost double our counter space. After undergoing a position change at the Field Museum, a job change to Topiarius, a search for a work shop and a search for material funds, I'm proud to say that he has finished the table.


I am consistently impressed with anyone who can transform unfinished wooden boards into things as aesthetic and practical as beautiful tables, chairs, bookcases, frames... you name it. Regardless of the amount of time, space and money Andrew's endeavors may (or may not) take, I must always remember and be grateful for the fact that his hobbies tend to benefit the both of us (which is more than I can say for my dabbling in horse betting).

Waking Up... to Construction

Twice this week we have awoken to some serious construction taking place right across the square from us as one more blessed condo building goes up in Chicago. Wednesday morning: 6:30am. This morning: 5:15am. And I'm not talking about sweet little construction noises like hammering or biscuit joining. I'm talking about taking a crane and dropping steel beams onto concrete. We've called to report violations of the noise ordinance and now we need to figure out if they have a special permit to start construction work before the break of dawn.

So, this morning, after abandoning any attempt to return to sleep, we decided to get up and make the most of it. And I must say, it wasn't long before the annoyance and frustration turned into laughter and silliness. We got ready for work and went out for breakfast. The city seems to come alive between the hours of 7:00 and 8:00am. We watched the empty, quiet restaurant fill up with people and conversation. The streets, seemingly wide and available only moments before, became crowded with vehicles and pedestrians. And before we knew it, we were off to work, having savored those few peaceful moments between construction and traffic. Not a bad way to start the weekend.

Rite of Passage

It would be wrong to say that we, in America, have no rites of passage, but I find it challenging to see our lives demarcated by dramatic, cultural, coming-of-age events like they once did, or like they do in other cultures. Sure, we have things like First Communion, marriage and the birth of one's first-born, but these are common to many cultures. They don't seem to be as culturally specific as Dokimasia, which was the process in Athens by which a citizen's eligibility to engage in public rights and duties was ascertained, or the ceremony of Poy Sang Long in Myanmar and Northern Thailand in which boys between 7 and 14 take novice monastic vows and participate in monastery life for a designated period of time.

But I think I've stumbled upon a specifically American rite of passage since I've been married, one I was not expecting: the ability to cook Thanksgiving turkey. Indeed, the first question posed to me after I explained that Thanksgiving would be at my home was "Are you making a turkey?". And then, inevitably, "Is this your first turkey?", as if to count it among the many important firsts in our lives: first words, first day of school, first home. Don't get me wrong--I'm not knocking it! I felt that to successfully prepare Thanksgiving turkey was to be successfully initiated into... something. I'm still not sure what that something is, other than now I know how to cook a turkey (hey, at least it's useful). And I think that's good enough for me.

We had a wonderful weekend with my parents and brother--a weekend of feasting, relaxing, napping, and being showered by my parents' tremendous generosity. I am so fortunate to have parents, both mine and Andrew's, who give us room to grow, to explore, to succeed, to make mistakes, to make our lives our own. With each rite of passage that comes our way, no matter how big or small, they gently encourage us, sometimes by holding on and sometimes by letting go. And on this Thanksgiving, I am truly thankful for them.

(Happy Birthday, Dad!)

Outdoor Living

With summer comes the desire and opportunity to revive a tired, sometimes frustrated (at least in Chicago) relationship with the outdoors. This past weekend we brought some life to our back porch. Even in the 90 degree heat, we enjoyed hand choosing, planting and watering our new flowers and tomato plants. We were fortunate to also find some good deals on a new table and umbrella to complete what now seems like an additional room to our apartment. We love being out there any chance we get. And each time, we are reminded of how much God has blessed us... to be with each other, to enjoy our neighborhood, to be surrounded by life (ok, and brick).

Not just for secretaries...

While I admit that I am sometimes wary of yard sales (or tag sales, depending on where you're from), I also must admit when they do deliver. Andrew seems to have an internal radar for yard sales, always pointing them out and eagerly searching for his next treasure, while I try to distract him and steer him in the other direction. But alas, his trained eye proved to be most beneficial this weekend, and lucky for us both, I was nowhere within a fifteen mile radius. He has harbored a fascination for antique typewriters for some time now, and was fortunate to find this one for sale in our neighborhood for a great price.

Here is what we know about it:

Brand and Model: Underwood No. 5
Year: 1900s - 1920s
Description: The design that launched millions of typewriters! When it appeared on the market shortly before 1900, the Underwood No. 5 immediately became the design standard for all typewriters to come, all the way up until the 1960s when the IBM Selectric came out. This is the most successful typewriter design in history, and by 1920 almost every typewriter in production was using some imitation of the Underwood No. 5 design. The production of the Underwood Models 3, 4, and 5 lasted until early 1932. The differences among the three models are subtle: The No. 3 is a wide-carriage machine, the No. 4 types 76 characters, and the No. 5 types 84 characters. The No. 5 was the quintessential Underwood. Millions of these machines were used by secretaries, journalists, government officials, and writers throughout the first half of the twentieth century. The classic desktop. (Source: mytypewriter.com)


If you are or are discovering yourself to be a typewriter enthusiast, click on the graphic below to go to a very cool website.

Nesting

Perhaps it is rather symbolic that around our 6 month anniversary of being married, and our 6 year anniversary of being together, we would discover that we are hosting another little family just starting out. When I first heard the noisy birds flying to and from the ledge above our living room window, my instinctive thought was "Great, pigeons." I hate pigeons. For 2 years, in my former apartment, I witnessed several mating, laying, hatching and growing cycles of these birds. They had a nest on a ledge outside my bedroom window, about 2 feet away from my pillow. I'm not exaggerating. Between their obnoxious squawking and 4-inch pile of poop, it was difficult to develop a healthy relationship. I don't miss them at all. So, it would only seem natural that my first reaction to our new inhabitants would be one of dread. But both Andrew and I have been pleasantly surprised to learn otherwise. Instead, we are hosting an American Kestrel family, also known as the American Sparrow-Hawk. The Audubon Society has some great information about these birds:

When spring returns to enliven the earth each male bird seeks for its mate, whose coyness is not less innocent than that of the gentle dove. Pursued from place to place, the female at length yields to the importunity of her dear tormentor, when side by side they sail, screaming aloud their love notes, which, if not musical, are doubtless at least delightful to the parties concerned. With tremulous wings they search for a place in which to deposit their eggs secure from danger, and now they have found it.

They've found it alright. And while I might debate the idea that their love notes are always "delightful", they beat any noise a pigeon makes, hands down. So we welcome our little family and look forward to the life it will bring.