little green room

Goodnight Moon begins by describing the "great green room." Here's our little green room for our little guy, who is due any day, in June.

The corner cubbies are filled with books and treasures, including my stuffed teddy bear, "Bobby," and "Lambie," at top. My grandmother's miniature rocking horse completes the trio. 

The feeding, reading, rocking, and reclining corner. The photographs feature Iowa City and the Iowa countryside -- just one of the artistic contributions from the baby's aunts and uncles. (Others include a whimsical painted owl, an original poem, and a collage with Psalm 139.)

The curtains, crib, and changing table. I had to hunt a bit to find furniture low enough to accommodate my short height! I've gathered items from all different places, like twigs for a nest.

breakdown blues

The delights of gardening have been well-documented here. But any illusions about the bliss of homeownership were soundly crushed this spring as we juggled planned and unplanned home projects. My mental energy was diverted from nursery decor to window replacement, from editing to A/C repair. Planned upgrades included a new cap and crown for the chimney and new windows. Unplanned “upgrades” included a new electric meter box, a new refrigerator, and a new A/C condenser. It seems the closer we get to the baby’s due date (now next week!), the quicker the succession of problems. In early May, as I recounted the fridge debacle to an overnight guest who arrived the day after the appliance’s replacement, I realized that air was blowing through the house but it wasn’t getting cooler. This week, the new condenser was installed and cool comfort restored. Predictably, a thunderstorm knocked out the internet a mere four hours later. (Ironically, as I was writing this post.) The dryer—which is older than I am—has been making funny noises (the HVAC tech volunteered that it’s probably a loose belt) and the neighborhood woodpecker has decided our wood trim is his favorite breakfast treat. So, back to gardening: At least the netting is keeping the birds, bunnies, and squirrels off my produce!

a tender harvest

The arugula and red lettuces have stretched out their delicate leaves as this dry spring makes its way toward summer. It is the time of simple salads—lemony oil or balsamic vinaigrette, creamy avocado, cucumbers. The days are long and I watch the light filter into different rooms at different times. There is much work to be done: there are weeds to pull, mulch to spread, and annuals to purchase and pot. But in a season of busyness my body slows down and requires me to do the same. It grants all its energy to nurturing the little one, its fragile project. With God’s good grace, he will arrive sometime between the peas and the green beans, just in time to welcome summer.

birthday

Today the words of Psalm 65 bless this birthday. The Lord waters the earth, blesses its growth, and crowns the year with bounty. "... those who dwell at the ends of the earth are in awe at your signs." Here is some backyard bounty:

The tulips out front arrived just in time!

The pond and hedge are already lush and filling in for the season.

The chives and mint are begging to be cut. (How can I make a virgin mojito?)

And, finally, the arugula takes the prize for first to sprout outside! (The chives in the middle are returning from last year.) The weather has been so warm, barely three days passed between planting and sprouting. Hopefully it will cool off so the arugula, lettuce, spinach, and peas can develop some good spring flavor.

happy spring

Last year, we weren't here early enough in the spring to welcome the crocuses. Here they are today, basking in the sun, nestled in the juniper and myrtle.

garden dream

This winter has been unusually mild. The Bradford pear is budding, the crocuses and snowdrops have emerged around the neighborhood, and my two stalwart parsley plants never really died. (See picture below.) My subconscious has also been contemplating the aberrant weather; a few nights ago I dreamt I was surveying my vegetable garden. Last year’s plants had re-seeded themselves and emerged into bountiful bushes in the winter sun. There were dozens of ripe tomatoes, three varieties of basil, and rows of lettuces. How odd, I thought … but how delightful! In the morning, I peered out the window and the two little beds were still wearing their oak leaf covering.

the in between times

It’s been a while since my last post (say bloggers the world over), but as my writing lapsed I savored some of life’s precious in between times. After the squirrels devoured the pumpkin, and the robins pecked at all the winterberries, the rhythms of the church calendar ushered our little household into the season of Advent. We celebrated Christ’s incarnation—the fully divine becoming fully human, in humanity’s humblest form. We joyously anticipated the kingdom to come—another lighted city.

The “now and not yet” of Advent took on a rich (very human) meaning as we encountered the many in between moments of expecting our first baby. There was a time of waiting to see if “it” was really there; a time of waiting to share the news; a time of waiting for sickness to subside; a time of waiting to feel the slightest flutter or kick; and, a time of waiting to find out whether the little shadow was a son or a daughter. 

Our son (!) still has a lot of growing to do before we meet him face-to-face in early June. In the coming months, my hope is that this short season will be more than just a time of busyness. Yes, there are windows that need replacing, compost that needs turning, and books piled high next to the television. I just hope I can endeavor to pursue prayer with the same focus as decorating the nursery.

requisite mum and pumpkin

Last weekend we had a mini fall work-day, traveling to my favorite garden center for lawn fertilizer, pebbles, and -- of course -- a pumpkin and a mum. We augmented a sad little spot of gravel by the mailbox, at the threshold of the gate to the backyard:

The gold mum and large pumpkin stand sentinel. We're hoping the squirrels won't attack the pumpkin before Halloween, so we can carve it. If they do, we have a spare hidden in the shed.

Fall remains my favorite season, and our new home's faded perennials make the season more personal. I've followed the progress of the sedum, aster, coreopsis, and virginia creeper almost full circle. In the large bed next to the vegetable garden, the winterberry bushes have released their namesakes:

The garden, lawn, and hedges remain mostly green -- even as the maple trees across the street have lost most of their leaves.

squirrels of september

Every week in September has brought armfuls of fallen leaves off the pin oak tree that stands in front of our house. I've raked, bundled, and piled them on Saturdays. But they're still green.

Fall may be approaching, but the local squirrels are determined to hurry it along and de-leaf the old oak before it even has a chance to enjoy the season. They baldly, gleefully chew off bunches of green leaves, hunting down green acorns. The small, molested branches fall gracefully onto the lawn, the driveway, the hill of myrtle.

Here are some action shots of the property damage (and accompanying acrobatics):

We're guessing that squirrels are a protected species in this progressive, urban county. But that hasn't stopped Wes from pricing BB guns.

shorter days, snazzier lighting

My industrious in-laws visited over Labor Day weekend, quickly adopting the honey-do list as their own. We learned a bit about hard-wiring, caulking, and problem-solving ... and now we can remember their invaluable help every time we flip the switch.

The first project was upgrading the mismatched and poorly functioning outdoor lights. We added a touch of industrial chic:

Next, we installed a modern gray felt pendant in the dining room. Perhaps my love for the color gray is some kind of subconscious effort to balance my extroverted personality? The dining room in morning light:

In the picture above, you can also see my grandmother's mirror and a framed old map of the great state of Iowa, which we found at the Capitol Hill flea market. Look through the pocket door to the kitchen, and you'll catch a glimpse of the new gas range and OTR microwave ... our only significant "upgrade" so far. Finally, I can cook again! Just in time for fall soups and sauteed apples. Speaking of fall, please enjoy this close up of my harvest centerpiece (shades of grandma), composed of gourds from the farmers market:

tomato sorting

 

I'm still harvesting a handful or two of cherry tomatoes each week. Here we have the almost-ripe, and the ready-to-eat. Lovely little bowls courtesy of my friend, Ann.

summer in the city

Another lighted city. An always-lighted city. How would you describe New York? I visited the City (as we called it in Connecticut) regularly growing up -- striding deliberately down Fifth Avenue, gaping at the Plaza's extravagance, clapping at Broadway shows, and gazing at the view from the South Tower of the World Trade Center. My mother took me and my sister, in turn, to find our wedding dresses.

Last weekend marked my first visit with my husband, and I saw the City with fresh eyes (and sore feet). We explored more neighborhoods than I had before, venturing into Brooklyn and touring the tenement museum on the Lower East Side. We enjoyed a mix of take-out lunches and fine dining, local ale and French wine. Here are some of my favorite photos -- our attempts to capture New York's je ne sais quoi.

The sculptural trees of Bryant Park. Next to the New York Public Library, a great place for people watching and sandwich munching.

Fresh juice at Union Square Greenmarket. We carried a giant bottle of grape-apple around with us all afternoon.

The Flatiron Building. Our view during Friday lunch, below.

Gourmet pizza and fresh mozzarella from Eataly, Mario Batali's epic Italian food emporium. I became so overwhelmed that I just stood by the door while Wes fetched the olive bread.

The roofs of New York ... as seen from the Empire State Building.

Waves of cobblestones at St. Mark's in the Bowery.

Sesame pancake and fresh (but still fried!) pork dumplings in Chinatown.

Enjoying an indie coffee break at Oslo in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

The cheese plate at Rye, also in Williamsburg. I had lovely spring pea ravioli and Wes enjoyed duck with couscous and chutney. This place was elegant but not pretentious -- a perfect Saturday night setting for weary walkers.

We rode the Staten Island Ferry on a foggy, damp Sunday morning. It afforded views of Manhattan, the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, Brooklyn, and ... don't leave it out ... New Jersey.

The city's newest park, The High Line. We walked 16 blocks on this elevated park after a few New York friends recommended it. Can you see why?

summer sweat

I hereby declare that it is most displeasing to even visit one's garden on a hot, humid July day with mosquitoes swarming garden beds (and legs). Not even the ripe cherry tomatoes seemed worth it today!

I'm looking forward to ripping out all the scraggly herbs and be-spotted bean plants and starting over in early September. Until then you'll find me inside, hanging pictures and curtains.

fresh feasts

We have enjoyed some delicious food moments this summer, with family, and with friends. As promised, here are some snapshots:

My brother-in-law and his wife drove out from Illinois, by way of Maryland. They came bearing Amish eggs from just a couple hours north. We wasted no time and enjoyed them for breakfast. With bacon, of course.

The Sunday farmers market is just three blocks up the street! In South Arlington it's a little more relaxed than the hyper-foodie version in the northern part of town. I enjoy the relaxed rhythm of walking over each Sunday.

I visited my friend's mother out in a more rural part of the Virginia suburbs. She has a blueberry patch, and the pickin' was good! I took about ten pictures of the blueberries; I'll spare you and just include this one.

Though I might be satisfied just watching plants grow, it is nice when they do produce something edible. This is one of the earlier bean and cherry tomato harvests, ready to be shared with a friend. And I lied ... the blueberries found their way into this picture, too.

Plated salads, ready for a dinner party. Featuring arugula and basil from the garden. The red pepper is probably from Mexico. I made peace with that.

With help from the nearby Thai market, we attempted spring rolls with some shrimp and home-grown basil. Success!

The dining room table served as the beverage bar for our open house.

Happy Independence Day!

and then it was summer

The weeks are flying by, and it's hard to believe it's been only six since the raised beds were just boxes of dirt. The cherry tomato is seven feet tall and giving the scarecrow a run for his money. This week marks the last spring lettuce & arugula harvest, and heralds the first crop of green beans. The garden grows faster than I can blog about it, and I think I am more committed to gardening than blogging. That's a good thing, right?

 May 23. Now see below.

  June 14.

I'm starting to ask myself why I grew so much dill ... if you live nearby, please come over and clip some. Here are the pea blossoms, cherry tomatoes, green beans, and a baby serrano pepper:

Here is our backyard oasis. (That's the pond area to the right.) Now featuring a new grill, and blooming coreopsis and butterfly bush.

I will post again soon on recent memorable food moments! There have been many.