little black journal

Our front yard has been getting progressively shabbier these past few months, as our grass was browning blade by blade.  Poor soil and a lack of water had resulted in this patchy, dry mess:

We decided this week that it was time to take action and get rid of our dying grass altogether.  I never realized what a maintenance headache grass can be, and we much prefer the look of plants anyhow, so we went to work yesterday afternoon pulling up all the grass in our front yard.  Shane was resistant to taking this project on this weekend, since we hadn’t done much planning, researching, or budgeting, and things certainly got off to a bumpy start yesterday morning (me dramatically crying “Why don’t you ever want to do anything around the house?!”, Shane accusing me of being impulsive and illogical…), but we eventually re-opened the lines of rational communication and really started to get things done.  Shane did the hardest part, in actually ripping the clumps of grass out.  I assisted by shaking the dirt from them and hauling them around to our yard waste bin out back.  Within a couple of hours, we had our very own little grass-free dirt patch.  We got up this morning and headed straight to Home Depot and our new favorite local nursery to pick up compost, mulch, and plants.  The installation of the plants took some time, as we wanted to dig big enough holes to surround each plant with a decent amount of compost.  We also ran into quite a few rocks and chunks of concrete – with soil quality like this, it’s not surprising that our grass wasn’t doing well.  Anyhow, nine big holes, six bags of compost, and two bags of mulch later, we were the proud owners of this nice little yard:

We’re pretty pleased with the results.  It was tempting to overplant, as things look a little sparse right now, but many of our plants have doubled or even tripled in size in the past year (hence the lavender forests that you see in the foreground and background of the photo), so we will just have to wait patiently for things to fill in a little bit.  I’m excited to watch the plants take shape, bloom, and (hopefully) fluorish.  There’s so much satisfaction to be had in a completed home improvement project – I keep looking out the window, appreciating the progress we made today.  We’ve had several neighbors come by and comment on how nice things look, which feels so good for a novice gardener like myself.

And cheers to my husband for a job well-done!  He was one tired, dirty, sweaty, blistered man by the end of the day.  I’m off now to pour him well-deserved glass of wine…

more weekly sketches (some more successful than others)…

birds on a wire – ink, acrylic paint, printed paper (07.02.08):

rooted plant (07.18.08):

This book tells the true story of Chris McCandless, a young man that gives away all of his money and possessions, cuts his ties with his family, and heads into the Alaskan bush to deeply commune with nature.  McCandless was never heard from again – his starved remains were discovered in the wild several months after his Alaskan trek began.  This was a fascinating read for me, so far removed from anything I’ve experienced or even dreamed of.  Admittedly, I am a materialistic person, far more attached to my comfortable lifestyle than I’d like to be.  “Roughing it”, in my terms, is driving to a campsite, setting up our tent, inflating our queen-size air mattress,  cooking a well-rounded meal over our gas campstove, and brushing my teeth at the nearby bathroom facilities.  The thought of heading into unknown territory for an indefinite amount of time with nothing more than what I could carry on my back seems impossible.  This glimpse into what “living off the land” really means is intriguing.  Could I make it in the wild?  Probably (and by probably, I mean definitely) not.  Looks like I’ll continue to satisfy my nature-cravings with Sunday strolls in the park…

Trying to stay on track with my sketchbook resolution…

from the window of my favorite cafe on n. mississippi ave in portland (06.20.08):

Shane and I have enjoyed spending the last couple of evenings working out in the yard, doing some weeding, planting, watering, and general clean-up.  We are completely new to the yard maintenance game, so we’re asking our neighbors for advice and making the rest up as we go.  My little back porch herb garden isn’t quite thriving, but it is at least surviving, which is enough to keep me happy.  I did break down and buy a full-grown basil plant from Trader Joe’s, since the basil I grew from seed still hasn’t really taken off.  But my dill, on the other hand, is going crazy and has produced these beautiful firework-like flowers.  The trick now is to figure out what to do with all these herbs, since my cooking skills are as rough as my gardening skills…

Brave New World was another stab at reading something from the Modern Library’s List of the 100 Greatest English-Language Novels of the 20th Century, and though it was more enjoyable than James Joyce, I was still a little relieved to wrap this one up and be able to move on to something else. Huxley’s take on the future is certainly intriguing (babies conceived in jars rather than wombs, the dissolution of the family structure as we know it, emotional engineering through the use of drugs and subliminal messaging), but I’m the kind of reader than needs even the tiniest glimmer of optimism in a novel, and he just wasn’t giving it. I’m sure I could appreciate his perspective if I better understood the political climate he lived in when he wrote Brave New World, but as I feared, much of his underlying social/political commentary was lost on me. This is one of those books that I’m happy to have read, but probably won’t ever feel compelled to read again.

And now, here comes the fun part: choosing what I will read next. I love to stand in front of my shelves full of read and unread books (the product of numerous gifts and my brother’s employee discount from the days when he used to work at Powell’s), feeling a sense of accomplishment over the books I’ve read and a sense of anticipation for the ones I have yet to read. I’ve narrowed the selection for my next undertaking down to Into the Wild, Summerland, or The Glass Castle (I’m now in the mood for a quick, fun read).

I have expressed my disappointment in my lack of creative productivity lately, and so I have set a small but significant personal goal. I’ve been inspired by the ‘skine.art blog (a new fave) to make more use of the Moleskine that I carry around with me and have committed to doodling/sketching/collaging/creating in my sketchbook at least once a week. Here are my last couple of endeavors:

lamp/couch/light-washed wall (06.01.08):

abstract still-life collage (06.07.08):

It’s a start…

Satisfied my French Toast craving this morning with the delicious little number shown below. Crispy on the outside, soft on the inside, paired with the sweet tang of fresh blueberries… Weekday mornings always involve a mad rush to get out the door and catch the bus, so it’s nice to be able to prepare a leisurely breakfast on Saturdays. This egg-soaked, butter-fried bread was definitely an indulgence, compared to my usual fare of low-fat yogurt and granola, but it was well worth it.

For better or for worse, I can be incredibly sentimental. I am that person that insists on holding onto old Barbie dolls and stuffed animals on the chance that my future children will want to play with them someday. I am constantly trying to instate new traditions in our family that can be carried on for generations to come. I am nostalgic, romantic, and (sometimes) sappy. My sentimentality is why I love visiting my grandparents’ house and hearing the stories of all their belongings. It seems that every piece of furniture, every vase, every dish has a special story behind it about who made it or where it came from. Many of their things have been in the family for generations. In contrast, a tour through Shane’s and my house would go something like this: that table came from Ikea in 2007, those dishes were on sale at Crate and Barrel a couple of years ago, and that vase from Pier 1 is almost 6 years old (practically an antique by our standards!). This is the price I pay for enjoying a simple, modern, clutter-free home, and I’m ok with it. I’ve found a way to compensate for our lack of meaningful decor items – I’ve sprinkled our walls with photos of people we love and places we’ve been. One of my projects this weekend was to update our living room photo wall. The ones of Paris had to stay, but I printed out a couple newer favorites from our wedding and our Thanksgiving road trip. It’s nice to be surrounded by reminders of the people and places that have blessed us. I’m a sucker for a happy memory.

I had pretty high hopes for this novel, as it came highly recommended to me by more than one person. I wouldn’t say I was disappointed, but I certainly wasn’t overly impressed, either. The Feast of Love tells the stories of several different intertwined characters and their experiences with falling in and out of love. It was cleverly written, but I never really felt involved in this book – I found myself not particularly caring about who ended up with who. A lack of connection. But that said, it was a quick, fun read. I’m ready for a challenge now and have started Brave New World. Hopefully the socio-political commentary won’t be too far over my head.