The Satisfaction of Spring Gardening

Painting of a backyard at twilight

Though the temperatures have dipped again, we had a few warm spring days this week.  After many months of neglecting my yard, I took advantage of the nice weather and child care assistance (thanks, Yia-Yia!) and set out to do some weeding and garden clean-up.

I tend to treat gardening much like house cleaning:  I aim for good enough rather than perfect.  My goal in terms of my yard is generally to keep it from getting so overgrown that my neighbors look at it with disdain.  When we bought our house, I knew the lawn maintenance would cause me stress.  The previous owner was an avid gardener who had done all kinds of lovely landscaping.  I’ve tried to maintain it, but in fewer than three years, it looks much less attractive than it did when he left.  The funny thing, though, is that while I look at my overgrown garden and feel burdened by it, I actually enjoy gardening when I’m in the process of doing it.  As with many things, the procrastination and anticipation are worse than the deed itself.

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Reflections on Six Weeks of Motherhood

The author nd her baby hiking by a lake

It’s been six weeks since my son was born. He’s gained more than 50% of his birth weight and has grown an inch in length. He’s beginning to outgrow some of his smallest clothes, and while I love watching him develop, I feel just a little sad packing away those tiny newborn-sized sleepers. He’s smiling more, which brings me so much joy, and I love it when we gaze at each other while I’m feeding him. He’s started to grasp things other than fingers, including occasionally my hair. He loves spending time on his tummy, especially on our chests, though he usually falls asleep during tummy time. He can lift his head and turn it from side to side (he’s been doing that for weeks now), and he can raise himself up on his forearms. I’m guessing it won’t be long until he starts crawling. He has my nose, cheeks, and ears; his dad’s eyes and smile; and both of our dimples.

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What I Learned from Reading My Elementary School Report Cards as an Adult

Still life painting done by the author at age 10
Still life, age 10.

Five years ago, my mom came to visit and brought a plastic tote full of drawings, worksheets, and other papers from when I was a kid.  I began to look through it, but after flipping through a few preschool paintings and coloring book pages, I became bored and overwhelmed by how much there was, and I set the box aside.  It remained closed through three moves and ended up in a closet that collects miscellaneous junk.

When I did the 30 day minimalist challenge in January, I was determined to tackle that closet.  I pulled down the plastic tote and spent several evenings working my way through it.  The box contained everything from day care drawings and hand-made cards to report cards, individualized education plans, and reports and short stories I’d written.  Looking over everything provided a sweet and fascinating perspective on my childhood.  Rather than seeing my youth through the lens of my memory, I got a more objective glimpse into my early years.   Read more

Discovering New Rooms Within Ourselves

Black and white monotype of a model seated in an art studio.
Studio Model, Monotype, 2004.

A few nights ago, I dreamt that I found more space in my house.  I knew these two unfinished attic-type rooms were there, but I had forgotten about them.  I wanted to do some renovations, make additional space, and suddenly I stumbled upon these existing areas of my home that had been unused.

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My First Days as a Parent

As you may have guessed from my extended absence, I had my baby! He was born about a week before his due date, and we are both healthy.  Giving birth was an amazing experience.  It was not quite what I expected — my doctor was out of town, my labor was long and I ended up getting an epidural even though I’d hoped to avoid pain meds — but I had an incredible medical and support team, and watching a tiny human emerge from my body was one of the coolest things I have ever been a part of. Read more