at last, another decor/DIY post

As much as I love the riot of color Fall brings, the profusion of textures... I didn't do much decorating this year. Just a few tiny pumpkins... real pumpkins, of course (why have plastic when you can have the real thing that you can compost instead of sending to the landfill?) scattered through my apartment.

On bookshelves...

...and the thrifted secretary I refurbished last summer that now serves as extra storage in the dining room

...and on the other book case in the living room. Which, in the event you're interested, is also a testament to the fact that thrift stores are sources of good things. A few of you had asked for tips on buying thrifted furniture, so here are my few tips:

• Nothing upholstered, unless I plan on re-upholstering it. They do get steam-cleaned, but besides the thought of creepy-crawlies, sometimes it harbors smokey, musty odors.
• Wait for the good stuff. If it's not solid wood and it's not sturdy, it's not worth it. The cool thing is that you can often get really solid stuff for only a few dollars, but if it's not what you're looking for... come back another day. :)
• Use your imagination. My favorite finds have been pieces I modified and used for other purposed. For instance, the bookcase above was a sort of cabinet with awkward, flimsy sliding doors. All I did was pop them off. :) Oh, and I found an old piano bench that I use for my coffee table. Unexpected pieces add character and interest to a room... and you won't pay tons of money.
• Craigslist is your friend. The window on the bookcase I got free. Oh, and this isn't a decor item, but my espresso/latte/coffee maker was also a Craigslist find. New for $30. Happiness.
• Get things that you like. Your rooms will reflect your unique personality instead of looking like you bought the whole room pre-made from Sears.

The Mary and Jesus statue I found this summer while antiquing with my older sister, Abby. I've been wanting a Mary statue for a while because she's a hero of mine. I hadn't been able to find one of her with the Child, which is too intrinsic to her story to exempt. So I was more than happy at this find... and thrilled that it was only five dollars. :)

This Celtic cross is almost my favorite, most meaningful possession. I got it in Ireland this summer. The symbol of the cross is pretty huge to me, and all the hand carving on this one... I picked it up and could not put it down.

In other DIY/decor recent stuff, remember the awesome thrift-store lamp I spray-painted this summer?

Well, I was racking my brain for a way to use the same paint to accent the other end table and splash a little more red/orange in the living room. One afternoon, I was doing something completely unrelated when this idea excited me to the point that I ran outside immediately with a glass soda bottle and painted it. My neighbors must sometimes wonder if I've inhaled too many fumes.

Brass and gold accents might be the newest trend in decorating, but I'm not a fan. I liked the detail of the (thrifted!) picture frame, but so far it has escaped a therapy session with Dr. Spray Paint because I haven't decided on a color. Ivory is my go-to color, but I'm afraid there would be too much ivory going on in this arrangement...

I like simplicity. And tiny pumpkins.

the adventure begins

Raising the lid of the trunk that contains my sweaters, sweatshirts, and scarves, I first felt delight. Cold weather means layering colors and textures and more creativity with clothes.

Rummaging around, delight faded a little and I started thinking things like this: "I wore these last year, and some the three years before that. They still look new, but I am tired of them."

Tired of them? Why? And thus began a week of the question rattling around my brain until it settled into a deep introspection.

Why do I want new things? New things make me feel more confident, I suppose. Well, that's rather nauseating, when I admit it to myself. I look to mere fibers for proof that I am capable of living my life well... when my me-ness wasn't made by me and therefore I'm not even responsible for the entirety of my existence? Well, that just grosses me out.

Especially when I think of many people who are lucky to have two sets of clothes. I say I care about poverty, slave labor in the clothing industry, and living a sustainable and eco-friendly lifestyle. I do care about those things. Hugely. But I'm an artist. How things look is a big deal to me. So I justify having a whole trunk full of sweaters because I got them on sale or at thrift stores.

Please understand that I do believe that God wants us to enjoy life and His good gifts. Wearing pretty clothes reminds me that God created beauty and loves it even more than I do. But I know that I can use this truth as an excuse to indulge myself.

I feel God calling me to a beauty in dress that is content. Aware of need and injustice. And knows beyond cognition that He is the source of my identity and confidence.

So, for the next six months, I'm not going to buy any clothes. The adventure begins. Anyone want to join me?

Living room decor... and other progress

Monday was my day off, and I suddenly was desperate to do something fun WITH someone. And so I called Bekah and we went shopping in Holmes County, Ohio. I needed new veils and was itching to spend a very long time drooling over antiques. At it turned out, antiques weren't the only thing I drooled over. If you've never had a black raspberry fry pie from Der Dutchman's, you have yet to taste all that is right about the world. 

But, back to the antiques... before I start getting graphic about the finer points of fry pies.

I fell in love with this piano bench. Its worn, green velvet pad, simple-but-elegant lines, and worn finish... surprisingly, I have no impulse to refinish it. I looked apprehensively at the price tag, but what I saw made me say, "You coming home wid me, baby!" 

So I happily carried both a bench and a drawing around the antique mall until closing time chased us out. Because of the quality of the ink and hairline scribbles that wouldn't reproduce well, I think this darling is an original pen-and-ink portrayal of a bridge and canal lock. Maybe the fact that the architecture of the bridge is similar to that of the Eiffel Tower caught my eye, but the longer I looked at it, the more I was entranced. It's an exquisite work, gallery-wrapped and everything. 

But I shivered when I wondered if, after I'm no more than a small pile of dust, my drawings will end up in a pile of odds and ends in a shop somewhere, priced for five dollars with no one to love or understand them. 

Mercy. Maybe that's why people carve statues out of stuff more durable than paper. And maybe my drawings will be adopted and loved like I do this one.

Instead of using nails to hang stuff on my apartment's newly-painted walls, I started using adhesive strips.

It sports a different mirror than the one I originally hung, but this collage on the living room wall is the drawing's new home. Forget fancy adhesive strips. I used nails. If/when I move again, I'll putty the holes and paint over them. 

So there.

This door leads from the living room to the dining room. Nine-foot ceilings and wide, original trim... helLO, gorgeous!

Doesn't the piano bench make the perfect coffee table? Yup, I think so too.

And, semi-facing the couch is this corner of the full bay window... with its bookcase I've outgrown. So I keep stashing books in odd places because I haven't seen a tall book-case that is both affordable and won't dominate the entire room.

Maybe bleached burlap and an old window frame are a bit too casual for the feel of the rest of the living room's decor, but who cares? Not me... at least until I recover from spring fever. And I know, the pink and purple flowers on the lamp don't exactly compliment the sage and orange theme.. but I love lighting just the base of the hurricane lamp in the evenings, making the room all cozy and dusky. Plus, my dad gave it to me. Sentimental? Who, me? Unabashedly.

I found this sturdy wooden serving tray at a thrift store a year ago, but I never posted the before and after, so here ya be.

Before:

After:

It's amazing what paint can do. Sorry about the spin-off, Campbell's.

The fabulous serving bowl was a house-warming gift from Carla... which makes it even more perfect. 

Vintage magazines just rock. The layouts and pictures are fascinating in their difference from modern ones. Plus, I just like old stuff. Fair enough? A Time magazine from 1947, published just seven months before the world lost the gift of Gandhi.

But it was Martin Luther King, Jr., not Gandhi, who said,

 "If I knew the world would end tomorrow, I would go out and plant a tree."

So would I. 

And a peony bush.

And heirloom tomatoes.

For now, though, I'm holding off on the tree.

new green growy things

The very air is heavy with life. Breathing it in sends energy searing to your fingertips.

After a beautiful but loooong winter, buried under (barely miniature) mountain ranges of snow, green growy things are everywhere.

Feast your eyes, people.

This is my indoor peace lily who, after four years of living with me, has decided she is ready to bloom.

These are the snowdrops that came up in my flowerbed before the last snowfall and lived to tell the tale.

And THIS is the happily unsightly corner of my living room. I wish I had a grow light, but a sunny window works, too. A very blissful hour was spent yesterday by a very happy Becca planting seeds outside in the sun. Barefoot. If the magic of earth, seed, sun, and water works, I'll have a peony, calla lillies, baby's breath, poppies, daisies, heirloom tomatoes, peppers, oregano, parsley, and basil to transplant in a month. Is it weird to love little plants? Alright, then I'm weird. Every little green shoot just rivets me in its miracle, like watching a calf being born and stand, all knock-kneed.

My shamrock has recovered from her starved existance under Wal-Mart's flourescent lights just in time for St. Paddy's Day.

Speaking of shamrocks and all things Irish, I HAVE A TICKET TO IRELAND! My un-biological bro, Gideon, and his Irish darling are getting married in July, and I really and truly am going!

Lucky me. 

Bits of Festivity

Advent is nearing its end.

The waiting and preparations are almost over.

I still have some baking to do, but everything else is ready.

The gifts are wrapped and ribboned.

Place de la Concorde (a.k.a., our house) has been ready and waiting for almost a month.

Every celebration necessitates a prepared venue, and Jesus's birthday is no exception.

I'm human. I need symbolism and tangible reminders.

Preparing our house... and living in a prepared house... shape my experience and my heart almost as much as giving gifts.

But the blatant materialism and commercial bowing to the almighty dollar leave a metallic taste in my mouth,

not to mention huge heaps in our landfills.

So I try to

use things I have,

use nothing artificial that should be real,

be creative in using things that are as free as the air.

Here's a festive tour of Place de la Concorde:

Amanda made this swag from tree-trimmings and hung it on our front door.

Our first Christmas tree as a household. We named him Joshua... for two reasons. One, in honor of the boy named Yeshua whose birth brought everlasting hope to the world. Two... well, a certain band produced a certain great album named Joshua Tree...

Our Joshua tree has quite a story. We three shivered through the cold, looking at tree after tree. Finally we picked one up and lugged it with us. Then we saw Joshua, looking as though he knew we'd come. We set the other tree smartly on its stump and struggled with Joshua to our mode of transportation - my car. Ebony's pain job isn't the greatest, so I didn't mind if Joshua scratched her a little when we tied him on the roof. What else do you do when you don't have a truck? That was my reasoning. Bekah said she felt she had no pride left. Manda kept saying we were crazy. But people in other cars kept pulling alongside us at stoplights, laughing, and giving thumbs-up to the great green thing that dangled its head over the windshield.

I bet Joshua never dreamed he'd make so many people smile.

We each got a special ornament to mark the year. The peace dove is mine...

I'm sure the star that guided the wise men was unparalleled in beauty,

but I think ours is a pretty good replica.

My nativity set has survived three years of active admiration by second-graders and is very happy to be repaired, reassembled, and surrounded by green tree-trimmings. I talked about this scene last post, so I won't elaborate more than to say that some of the moments of  deepest worship and awe I've experienced this season have occurred while watching this Nativity in the soft lights Joshua bears.

These fat birds are so endearing. At least, I think they are. Opinions are always subject to diversity.

When I was teaching school, I used gift money from my kids to buy this set of angels... and they've become sort of a Christmas tradition for me. I love unpacking them and smiling at the gift each one bears. This year, they grace our table with their presence.

 

Bekah's mom got a bag of the pine cones in South Carolina and gave them to us. They're huge and so perfect.

Even our chalkboard was festive for a while. At the moment, she bears a reminder of upcoming bills. A chalkboard of many personalities she is.

JoAnn Fabrics had these letters on sale. And (of course) I had a coupon, so I paid fifty cents a piece. The greens I clipped off a bush in our yard. This is the view while washing dishes.

Greens from a bush, a pine cone from Laurie, and cookie-cutters we already had...

Free decor + fresh decor = good decor, in my book.

I updated the coal scuttle and branches outside the back door with bush-greens, pine cones, and ribbon and lights I already had.

Our decor might not compare to this beautiful home, but I'm content. It's simple. Comfortable. It fits us.

The guests we've had seem to like it, too.

Speaking of guests... my family hopes to come visit me next week! Some of them have never been here, and I've missed them terribly.

I have to work Christmas morning, so going there isn't possible. I felt rather melancholy about working, then coming home to an empty house when my friends have gone to their families... until I became ashamed of myself. Some of my kids can't go home for Christmas and one has no home. It's OK for me to have to work. I'm planning a Christmas morning surprise for them. That makes me so excited, I feel like a kid on, well, Christmas morning.

At least I have family. And I will get to spend time with them and watch my sisters' faces as they open their gifts from me. Besides, isn't sacrifice what Christmas is all about?

Kombucha project

Kombucha, the "mother" of all drinks.

My first gallon is brewing!

I've been literally craving kombucha, and Anna was kind enough to send me a "mother", or "scoby", to get me started. You can see the mother near the top of the jar in the picture... it's a white-ish, rubbery sort of mushroom thing. Like yeast, it's a living organism. Here's how you put her to work:

1. Get a mother. You can either get one from someone who already brews kombucha, or buy a bottle of raw (unpasteurized) kombucha from a health food store. Take the lid off the bottle and let it set in a warm place out of direct sunlight until a film forms on the top. This is your mother.

2. Brew 1 gal. black tea. I used 5 tea bags. Stir in 1 cup of sugar until dissolved. Let tea cool until almost room temperature. If the tea is too hot, it will kill your poor mother.

3. Pour into a glass container. Metal or plastic will disrupt the brewing process. Truth be told, I went to Wal-mart and bought a gallon jar of Kosher Dill pickles, just so I could have the jar. We have a whole gallon of huge pickles to eat. Any help, anyone? ;)

4. Put the mother into the tea. Fasten a piece of porous fabric over the jar and put the jar in a warm place out of direct sunlight. We have forced-air heating, so my jar has taken up residence on a floor heater.

5. Let the mother work her magic for 2 weeks. She will "eat" the sugar and release tons of healthy enzymes into the tea. Once the brewing process is complete, it will taste something like carbonated apple cider. 

6. Once the 2 weeks are up and/or you're satisfied with the taste, remove the mother, cap the tea, and refrigerate it. You'll notice that the mother has grown another layer. This is a new mother... or her baby, depending upon how enthralled you are by this point. Peel the layer off and either discard the old mother or use both mothers to start two jars.  

The enzymes kombucha contains boost a healthy immune system and aid in digestion, much as do the enzymes in unprocessed yogurt. I can attest to that fact. Last winter, I was sick in bed with the swine flu, and kombucha was the only thing I could keep down. Although I can't prove this, kombucha is thought to prevent cancer. Take that with a grain of scoby.

In a few weeks, if anyone needs a mother, let me know! Cheers!

Here is a more in-depth, scientific report on the benefits of kombucha, FYI.

Who needs Walgreens?

We have greens on our wall, too.

Bad joke, I know. I just crack me up sometimes.

Air-drying basil works, but more ingenious is a tip I got from a friend: to dry herbs, spread the leaves on cookie sheets in a hot car for a day. The herbs dry in no time, and your car smells amazing.

I'll have to do that next time. For now, I smile at the sight of herbs drying in my kitchen and laugh at my strange sense of humor.

For real, when you can grow your own herbs and spices, who really DOES need Walgreeens?

Miraculous

A little over a month ago, I posted this:

I admired a friend's tea rose bush this morning, and she promptly cut a sweet rose for me. I read that honey can be used as an organic rooting hormone, and I hope the article was right. I wounded the bottom of the cutting, smeared it in honey, removed the lower leaves, immersed six inches of the cutting in loose potting soil, and inverted a container over the leafed, exposed end. The Rosebush Project has begun, adding to my family of growy things. :)

After weeks and weeks of checking for new growth, I peeked under the container "greenhouse" last week, and this is what I saw:

The reddish leaves were brand new! I admit I ran into the house and grabbed Bekah, yelling, "Come look! Come look!"

This week, here's what she looks like (the rose cutting, not Bekah):

Miraculous.

A whole new rosebush, from one rose. Pretty soon, she'll be ready to be planted in a flower bed.

It's the simplest joys that run the deepest.

Speaking of joys, one of my girls at work has been very open in her hatred for me. I didn't think it would ever change. Over the past week, it seems to be, almost imperceptibly. Yesterday, she walked by me and hit me with this comet: "I love you, Becky." I recovered my verbal capacity in time to assure her I love her as well. Wow. Sure never thought I'd live to see that day.

Miraculous.

In other adventures of last week, here's one I have no desire to relive:

In the merciful coolness of an evening last week, I began digging a flower bed for my new bird bath. Bekah started mowing the lawn. The flower bed's perimeter was  barely finished when Bekah came running around the corner of the garage. Followed by a swarm of hornets. The hornets were rather upset that Bekah had dared mow their little backyard and stung her with great vim and vigor.

I dropped my shovel. What could I spray on Bekah that would kill the hornets and not kill her? I ran for the Windex and proceeded to empty half the bottle on her while imploring the hornets not to sting me because I'm allergic and really didn't feel in the mood for any kind of medical emergency.

One hornet was not moved by my pleading.

By the time Bekah was insect-free and checking out her battle scars, I felt really... weird.

If I take Benadryl immedately, I usually don't have too dangerous a reaction. Not like when I was Five Years Old and my throat swelled shut or anything.

We didn't have Benadryl.

Both of us sweaty, Bekah and I, covered in Windex and soil, respectively, drove as quickly as legal to Walgreens. Bekah, despite her multiple stings, had to drive because I was staggering like a drunk.

Not to complain about Walgreen's customer service or anything, but I stood at the checkout for a good long time before anyone came to let me pay for the Benadryl.

"Would you like any KitKats, Baby Ruth, or Twix bars today?" the cashier asked, gesturing at the "ON SALE" array on the counter.

"No, thanks. Just the Benadryl," I replied, swaying slightly and trying to swipe my card.

He hadn't totaled the order yet.

"What about Walgreens-brand toothbrushes? Two for fifty cents?"

"No, thanks. Just the Benadryl." Not feeling very coherent at this point and hoping vaguely he didn't think I was drunk, I again tried to swipe my debit card.

He still hadn't totaled the order.

"How about.."

"No, thanks. Just the Benadryl."

Giving me a strange look, he pressed the total button.

I paid, grabbed the Benadryl, and swayed out onto the sidewalk where Bekah was waiting with my water bottle. Like pill poppers, we both immediately took the max dosage. Thank God she isn't allergic to stings, but she had a massive lot of poison going on in her system.

That having happened last week and this being THIS week, obviously we survived. I just don't think I'll ever have the courage to go back to Walgreens.

Miraculous.

Projects of Late

It all started with a trip to Home Depot for an extension cord for the lights I strung on my back porch. I peeked into the garden section "just to look", and somehow I left with everything I needed to turn the area beside my back steps from this:

to this:

I love it so much that I can barely stand leaving it at home by itself when I go away. ;) From left to right, may I introduce Black-eyed Susans, Lavender, Carnations, Daylilies, and Coral Bells? The antique window I got off Craigslist last winter, the old rake was in the garage, and the little lantern I hung on the rake I got at an unknown thrift store, circa 2006.

When the lavender blooms, it's going to look so French-cottage-y. 

Other finds and projects of late:

I took this mirror home from Salvation Army and heeded its plea to cover its gilded embarrassment with ivory spray-paint. She was so grateful, she now makes my tiny hallway a much nicer place to be.

After seeing an outdoor chandelier made from a wire basket on apartmenttherapy.com, I've been wanting to make one for my back porch. While re-arranging things in the garage, I found a box of stuff left by previous tenants. The box contained a touchlamp shade, minus the glass. I had a metal candle plate that perfectly fit the base when I turned it upside-down, so I bent the tabs up to hold it in place. The natural-colored cord I had on hand worked fine for hanging it, and the pendants are earrings I found in the clearance aisle of Walmart.

Eating at the table beneath it is even more fun than before. :)

Does anyone know what this flower is?

It bloomed of its own accord in my backyard. I didn't mind in the least. Might it be a sort of poppy? The multiple petals are fringed, giving it a happy pompom-type of bloom.  I hope they re-seed themselves and come back next year!

horticulture therapy. and a book.

You know what?

I'm a believer.

In Jesus Christ, most definitely,

but also in the therapeutic value of the world He gave us.

For me, nothing calms, focuses, and comforts me more than growing things and making my space in the world productive and beautiful.

Here are some of the results:

My heirloom Pink Brandywine tomatoes are doing splendidly. Call me weird, but there is just something about raising plants from seed that makes them much more endearing. :) You're wondering about the black plastic in the background? I'm raising cucumbers for a local horticulture program's annual pickling project. Due to a lack of a more organic mulch to control the weeds where (hopefully) the vines will sprawl... plastic! Because the previous tenants didn't use the garden, weeds are prolific. Hopefully all the nasty black plastic will smother them and next year will be easier. Meanwhile, I hoe away at the rest of the soil. Oh, and the marigolds? One of my mom's gardening tricks is to plant marigolds between tomatoes. The marigolds act as a natural pest-repellent. It works, too. The Japanese beetles have been massacring my poor daisies, but my tomatoes don't have a spot.  

I'll spare your eyes the trauma of a "before" picture of the front of my house. (Actually, I forgot to take one. But it's most definitely a mercy.) Grass grew right up to the steps, around the bushes... For one thing, it made the house look like a cracker box sitting on the ground. Not properly established, if you know what I mean. For another thing, mowing was a bear... and not a cute little panda, either. No matter how hard one tried to shove the mower under and around the bushes or into the crannies around the steps, a lush fringe of green remained. To top it off, the level of the grass being significantly higher than the walks, a nice long "skinned" strip graced the edge, like a bad haircut caused by a ridge in the skull. 

Using concrete blocks, bricks, and rocks I found at various locations on the property, I built a little retaining wall and proceeded to remove sod, a rewarding but monotonous process. My one hope is that all the earthworms I severed in the digging will happily grow into separate organisms and live happily ever after. The little dots of color are actually salvia, delphiniums, tickseed, moonflowers, and daisies. Once they mature, life will be more colorful. Meanwhile, my house looks happier... and I smile every time I pull into the driveway.

This was another Difficult to Mow area, which someone had partially remedied by laying an almost solid cover of flat rocks. "Almost" is key here. Grass had come up between the rocks, so I removed a few (both grass clumps and rocks) and planted hostas I brought with me from Lancaster. Thanks, Kathy! 

On the porch is my potted herb garden. The black pot in the distance contains my newest endeavor. I admired a friend's tea rose bush this morning, and she promptly cut a sweet rose for me. I read that honey can be used as an organic rooting hormone, and I hope the article was right. I wounded the bottom of the cutting, smeared it in honey, removed the lower leaves, immersed six inches of the cutting in loose potting soil, and inverted a container over the leafed, exposed end. The Rosebush Project has begun, adding to my family of growy things. :)

I wonder if Thomas More would hold that my pleasure in gardening is the release of an inner need? He (I'm sorry, the character he created to speak for him) maintains that the only real pleasures are the absence of discomfort and the the release of inner needs. Maybe I'm not enough of a narcissist, because I'm pretty sure some of my pleasures are a bit external, gifts I receive from beings and objects outside myself. Although it is possible I have an inner need to commune with said beings and objects. Hmm. More has some interesting things to say about asceticism, wealth, and ego, too.  If you've never read "Utopia", do. Sociology with a side of tongue-in-cheek humor at its best.

earth day

so i was going to do something really cool to celebrate earth day.

i smiled at all my little tomato, zinnia, daisy, poppy, oregano, basil, and parsley babies growing at my window. and poked at the pepper seeds which have germinated but have yet to show their faces. wait, i do that every day.

i stopped at goodwill and brought home a huge wooden serving tray (for $1.97, i might add), two picture frames, and a small mirror. see? instead of buying things new, i upcycle them. oh. true dat. i do that a lot, too. the spray paint i used on everything couldn't have been just super for air quality, either. (but it was fun spreading newspapers on the dark, quiet sidewalk and spraying the last coats in my bare feet under the street light. even though my neighbor three houses down stood at his door and regarded me strangely.)

idea!

TODAY will be my earth day. i finally found one of these on craigslist: [!]

no fossil fuels or air (or noise) pollution required to mow my little lawn. i won't mention the fact that not having to worry about the engine having obscure problems is somewhat of a relief. there. won't even have to talk about it. driving half an hour to pick up something you bought for $20 that retails at $75 is permissible in observing earth day. 

weehah!

They've Sprouted!

While watering my seeds this morning, I dug around a little. The daisies and zinnias are pushing fresh, clean, white and green. (Oh, wow. That sounds like a commercial.) I didn't have time to check the rest. My window facing the street gets pretty good afternoon sunlight, which seems to be doing the trick.

growy things

Words are so limiting. They describe so little of the depth of some joys. Smelling lilacs. Blue, blue rushing into your soul. Planting seeds.

I tamped a bunch of little possibilities into growing trays this evening. Peppers, tomatoes, daisies, poppies, zinnias, oregano, parsley, and basil. A first for me, I procured some heirloom tomato seeds: Pink Brandywine. I can't wait to see the first baby green growy things poke their heads above the soil. Even more exciting will be transplanting them to new beds at my new house in a few weeks.

As hippie as this might sound, something deep within my soul is refreshed... remade... reconnected... when I dig my hands into good dirt and play a small role in the magic of growth. I (rather romantically, perhaps) like to wonder if the few drops of Native American blood in my veins contribute to my need to cultivate connections to the earth and the rest of creation. Made by the same Life-giver, we humans are intrinsically linked to nature. Why do we like to pretend our well-being does not rely on the health of our natural world?

I recently read a fascinating article emphasizing soil health. Both agriculture and horticulture have given little regard to replenishing the nutrients and minerals depleted by plant growth. Sticking seeds in the ground and spraying synthetic fertilizer on the plants to make them grow might produce fruits and vegetables, but our fruits and vegetables are slowly losing their nutrient value. Yay for composting! :)  Another article I read (I'm great at forgetting sources) suggested the need for pest control is a sign our produce is worth little to our bodies. The author cited bugs as nature's scavengers, eating what is unfit for human consumption. Interesting.

Another growing (sorry about the pun) interest of mine is urban community gardening. How cool would it be to reduce a city's waste by establishing neighborhood composting sites and transforming vacant lots into cooperative gardens? Someday, when I'm big... For now, I'm daydreaming about how my garden in town can be used to bless and establish relationships with my new neighbors.

Life in spring is intoxicating.