The Wild Wild West

Mountains... hiking... skiing... views... fresh air... sunshine... sunburns... Elsa... Triumph... Wahoo's... friends... family... wild times.

Where Winter Meets Spring

My dear brother never fails to mention how fantastic the weather in Denver is (especially after a particularly long spell of dismal Chicago grayness) . And as much as it pains me to admit it sometimes, he's right. Tonight we head out to the land of mountains and sun, to embrace a Spring more mature than ours, and to steal a few more moments of Winter's most exhilarating activity (see below).


Elsa, get your booties on... here we come!

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.

The Deep Freeze

Move It or Lose It, Buddy

I really don't want to use this blog as a platform to complain, but I can't help myself on this one. I've been considering a lot lately what it means to live as a community, and I'll tell you what doesn't fit: saving parking spots with chairs/sawhorses/crates/coke cans/buckets/cones... whatever. Not cool. I do not understand how shoveling out a spot justifies the sense that now, this piece of city-owned pavement is mine. I would much rather approach snow removal as a neighborhood endeavor, a common goal, the idea being that this is our city block, together. And together, we will work to get the snow out and our cars in. If everyone would shovel out their spot (and help those who cannot), then wouldn't our block be cleared and we could all park? I know that some people don't shovel. But since when is it ok to abstain from doing the right thing just because that's what everyone else is doing? Didn't we learn that lesson in kindergarten? In any case, if anyone has some good suggestions for how to transform this individual act into one of common care and concern, please, fire away. And for those of you who don't live in Chicago and don't know what I'm talking about, here you go:





Addendum: I would be remiss not to mention the upside. Not everyone abides by the spot saving strategies of the supremely annoying. Sometimes a good car-trapping snowstorm can bring out the best in people. Andrew has become Super Shoveler (with a cape and everything) and is always ready to rescue a lad or lass in tire-spinning distress. And I know he's not the only one. Perhaps therein lies the solution: model the change we wish to see.

Christmas Trees: Use No. 2

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

2009

At some point along my haphazard journey to discover a hobby, I committed to paper. Not scrapbooking, just paper. Letterpress. Stationary. Gift wrap. The Perfect Greeting Card. Decorative paper with whimsical designs. And while I don't think I ever truly embraced the full-fledged art of Paper (I finally admitted that I really just liked to buy it and appreciate it, as opposed to actually ever doing anything with it), there are some things I picked up along the way that I just can't shake. Take greetings cards for instance: If you get a greeting card from me, you can be assured that it will be hand selected and not from Jewel (and if I'm feeling really inspired, I might just make it). Or gift wrap: try a paisley print or Paper Source's Colonial Indian Chinz pattern. Fonts? Texas Hero is still my favorite. And so, as you can probably imagine, the Paper Source has become a treasured merchant in my quest for creativity. When I go there, whatever little dormant dusts of inspiration I have are resurrected and I feel the sense of possibility once again. Last year, I discovered their exclusive Date Books and for the first time in my life, I felt satisfied with my chosen method of organization. Great design, eco-friendly and fantastic colors. What more could a paper girl want?

Well, I'll tell you what she wants: less planning. If there's anything I'd like to change about myself for 2009, it would be that if I ever needed to, I could throw that planner out the window (at this point, I don't ever see that happening, but it's only January 7th). I'd like to be less scheduled, more flexible and more generous with my time. While I realize that this is easy for some, I'm confronting the fact that it is very, very difficult for me. I protect my time to the point of selfishness and somewhere between Monday and Sunday I have forgotten on whom I should be spending it. And so, in a symbolic gesture, this year I bought the Mini Date Book (in persimmon red). May it be a reminder to me to not covet those blank pages, but to give of them freely. A reminder to plan less and live more.

To Winter

Spellbound
by Emily Brontë










The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me
And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow.
And the storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing dear can move me;
I will not, cannot go.