Watering My Garden

There was some resistance. I didn’t have the energy and I just wanted to relax. I’d be lying if I said that particular mental argument hadn’t been put forth before. But that day in particular I was especially worn-out, recovering from being sick all week. However, as I looked out my window I could see the truth; my flowers desperately needed water and I would be broken-hearted if they died in tomorrow’s sudden summer heat because of me.

And so I did, what I often do, when I’m having trouble finding the motivation to do any given task. I scrolled through Libby until I found an audiobook to listen to. And then, with my mind caught up in the story, I grabbed my watering can.

With an ever expanding garden of mostly potted flowers and shrubs, watering everything with a watering can takes time. A certain rhythm is established: fill, water, retrace steps, repeat. In this way, walking through the garden is it’s own kind of meditation.

I carried the watering can past my lavender and nodded to the large bumble bee bobbing on the reaching blooms. I glanced at the signs I hand-painted for my pollinator garden as I walked under the Star Jasmin that I have trained to climb up and over the trellis above my front gate. And I approached the plants growing out of a row of green vintage dresser drawers turned planters. I emptied half the watering can into one drawer and half into another and I retraced my steps back through the garden.

I was listening to Zorrie by Laird Hunt while I watered. It was a quiet kind of story, that honored the simple things that make up the texture of a person’s life with delightful descriptions.

As I stooped, waiting for the water to fill the can, I felt full with the echo of comfort this ritual had given me as I grieved the loss of my Grandma. A woman who, in her day, had had her own colorful gardens that I’d enjoyed every summer as a child. I had discovered recently that she had also liked to listen to audio books while she did tasks around the house. And just like that, the smallest cosmic threads had cinched tighter between her and I. My eyes spilled over at the thought of it.

Then I was retracing my steps through my garden, watering my flowers, listening to the story, and it was a comfort – that quiet ritual.

Me in my Grandma’s garden

The Postmistress Of Paris & Other Influential Women

The first book I finished this year was a good one!

I loved how the main character was strong, independent, piloted her own plane, wore trousers, loved her dog, was friends with surrealists, could laugh at herself, came from a life of comfort and left it behind to adventure, and took action to help people escape the Nazis in France by delivering secret messages. When I finished The Postmistress Of Paris I was surprised and delighted to learn that the idea for the main character was sparked by the very real, Mary Jayne Gold. I’ve drawn her portrait, above.

The seed of inspiration for drawing women was planted…

… while reading Inferior by Angela Saini. I felt white hot anger reading about the incredible women in this book. I started furiously writing down their names as I read. I wanted to see their faces. How had I not known about these badass women? And as I learned about them (sometimes having just heard of them for the first time and sometimes gaining a new appreciation for their contribution to their field) I decided I wanted to draw them and share their story.

So I made a plan.

In the front part of my journal, the first 25 pages or so have a different layout and I like to use this area for fleshing out my ideas for personal projects. Because they’re located in the front of the book, they’re easy to find and reference later.

I wanted to share this example because one of the things I’ve learned in my own practice is that having a few projects outlined means that I don’t wait for inspiration to get to work and that inspiration finds me working. Having a to-draw list, allows me to show up and focus on my practice without getting hung up on big questions or lost in inspiration rabbit holes.

Do I always draw from a list or for a specific project? No. Illustration is my personal practice and I find that I get the most joy out of my practice if I don’t force myself to be too rigid or results focused either. But I do owe a lot of my consistency, growth, and evolution as an artist to little personal projects like this.

I write these project outlines for myself, with no intention of showing them to anyone, so consider yourself lucky to have this rare glimpse at my messy notes behind the scenes.

Want to see the portraits I’ve done so far?

Cold Weather, Warm Heart

Here in Portand, the winter weather consists mostly of dark gray skies and drizzling rain with moderate temps. But once a year, the rain turns into snow. Everyone is seized with a sense of wonder if the snow actually sticks. Sleds are tested on our hilly neighborhood roads - you won’t be driving if the snow sticks anyway, not in this city. Snow men are lovingly rolled - I saw a group of six sitting roundly on patio furniture, having a barbecue in someone’s yard (a dangerous pastime for snowmen).

On one such day this winter, while out on a walk in the cold, I encountered something I hadn’t seen before. I saw a neighborhood family (from child to gran), bundled up and sitting out on their driveway around a warm chiminea. They had a sign that read “Free Hot Chocolate!” and one of the children waved at me wildly. Did I want some? Of course I did. Their mom offered me various toppings while warmly pouring hot chocolate from a large thermos into my cup. I accepted two marshmallows, beaming with delight.

A little kindness goes a long way.

My Year In Books - 2021

I read (or more accurately, mostly listened) to 50 books in 2021.

This was almost 20 more than I set out to read for the year and I’m proud of myself for exceeding my goal. Of course, it was easier than I had thought it would be. You can find me listening to a book while doing just about anything - walking my dog, drawing, crafting, cooking, cleaning, or really anything that can accommodate a bit of multi-tasking.

“How we spend our days is of course how we spend our lives.” - Annie Dillard

That said, I’m really grateful for moments like these. Coffee + a good book + my pup + a patch of sunshine is a recipe for joy in my life.

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My Favorite Reads

During a time of heart-ache, I discovered (a new to me author), Rachel Joyce and found her work to be transportive and deeply comforting. The writing itself was delicious! And the whimsy woven into the fabric of these characters and their stories was delightful, so much so that I read four of her books in 2021. My favorite of which were…

The Music Shop | The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry | Miss Benson’s Beetle

I fell in love with her characters, with their quirky worn-in personalities, both lovable and maddening in turns. The journey that unfolds in each book has more to do with perspective than plot, I found them all quite moving. But don’t take my word for it, check them out yourself!

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Hot Tip

If you enjoy or want to get into audio or e-books in 2022, you’ll want to check out the Libby App. A great recommendation from my sister, using the Libby App enabled me to break free from my reading budget and check out audio books voraciously from our local library. Previously I’d been exclusively using Libro.fm - which is still a great way to get audio books on demand and support the local book store of your choice with each purchase.

Right now I’m going to save my purchases for paper books that I want to collect on my bookshelf.

Of which, I’m confident, there will be many. In fact, it would seem that we’re going to need more shelves very soon.

Yellow

It was last year around this time, that my Grandma asked me out of the blue, “what’s your favorite color these days?” I paused for half a second before I answered, I hadn’t really thought about a favorite color recently.

And yet, I could immediately visualize…

…a collection of my things, all in the color yellow.

And so I said “Yellow” and her eyes lit up and she said “Ooh I thought yellow!” in what had become her simple, unfiltered way.

Now, when I look at my yellow things, I like to think of how yellow brought her joy too. You lose people, but they’re never really gone, they just come to you in different ways.

Alice Phoebe Lou

Alice Phoebe Lou’s Album Glow was the soundtrack for every sunny moment of my year.

In 2021 I listened to 1,808 different artists and 143 different genres. But I spent the most time (1,097 minutes) listening to Alice Phoebe Lou. Apparently this put me in the top 0.5% of their listeners!

Listen to the album Glow here.

“I’m one of those witches, babe
Just don’t try to save me, cause I don’t want to be saved”

I knew I wanted to create a drawing of Alice Phoebe Lou to commemorate how much the music has meant to me. While there are many gorgeous photos that could serve as muse, I was particularly inspired by a charming live performance of the song Witches and decided to create this five-frame illustrated animation.

Watch the live performance here.

Olive You

It was Christmas Eve and my Grandma was working her magic in the kitchen. The dining room glowed with warm light and good smells were wafting down the hall. If I craned my neck I could make out the Poinsettia tablecloth and a couple of small, cut glass dishes - one filled with cranberry sauce and the other with black olives.

Liking black olives was on a long list of things I had in common with my Grandpa. And so it was with a wink and a knowing smile that my Grandpa would sneak them out and into my hands before the big meal was ready.

Avoska

In general, I enjoy words and I take pleasure in adding new ones to my vocabulary. After all, words are just another medium for painting pictures and articulating thoughts.

There are certain words that don't just give you a name for something, they give you access to a concept that would otherwise be really hard to understand, or even talk about. I first spent time with this idea when I heard the Radiolab episode, New Words, New World.

Now consider how some words are unique to a specific language without a direct one-to-one translation. This takes the idea to another level. Is it possible to think differently in different languages? I think so.

Of course my insight as an English-only speaker is limited. However, I know that the ability to describe a complex idea simply with the confidence that you’ll be understood is powerful. Applying this idea to shared collective experiences and nuanced emotions is particularly compelling.

These are just a handful of examples that have captured the imaginations of English speakers:

• “Hygge” - The cozy, intimate feeling of gathering with friends around a fire in the winter. (Danish)

• “Schadenfreude” - The joy you feel at another person’s misfortune. (German)

• “Saudade” - a pleasure you suffer, an ailment you enjoy. (Portuguese)

• “Koi No Yokan” - A premonition of love (Japanese)

With these kinds of thoughts on my mind, I asked my bi-lingual co-worker to tell me a Russian word that could describe something in one word that would take several in English. She humored me and that is how I discovered that a netted string bag is called an Avoska in Russian.

It’s my understanding that the root of the word avos’ means “maybe” in Russian. And that in the historical context of the USSR, there was quite a lot of uncertainty about whether there’d even be anything available to take home in your bag.

Now I not only had a new word, but a better sense of context and history for an object that I had formerly only known as a cute, trendy, produce bag.

Do you have a favorite word that articulates a bigger concept?

Becoming A Bird Nerd

Books have a tremendous capacity to surprise and delight us. For example, recently I read a book (The Genius Of Birds) about birds and I was touched to discover that there are birds that sing for the joy of it, birds that use tools, and birds that collect things in the color blue. I’m becoming an entry level bird nerd, what’s your favorite fun fact about birds?

Little Free Library

I just love little free libraries, they have provided me with so much joy. I will walk up a steep hill in a downpour to check and see if there are new titles in a neighborhood library. I enjoy leaving my own books for other readers as well. I’d love to have my own little free library someday. Someday, when I can afford a house, I will set up a little free library in the yard and curate it’s contents for you. Not only will I share books, I will share plants - I can’t seem to stop propagating them. In this way I will perpetuate another simple pleasure I have enjoyed; the distinct pleasure of finding plants with cheerful little signs reading “Free” or “Take One” and me proceeding to carry them all the way back home. The plants and books from my neighbors have filled my heart as much as my garden and my bookshelf.

Flurry Of Emptiness

It was hard for her to find the words and this made her flustered. Finally she said, “my mind is a flurry of emptiness” and I said “It’s ok, it’ll come to you later.” Because I knew that would make her feel better, even though I knew that it wasn’t true. What I didn’t realize was that this would be our last conversation.

Yeehaw

I’m a horse girl, I told them that on the application. I explained in detail how I started riding at a young age and how my skills advanced quickly because my horse was, to put it simply, challenging. It had been several years since I’d been in the saddle but I still felt confident about my horsemanship and I was excited to get involved with a horse rescue as an adult.

I showed up to volunteer wearing reasonable leather boots, but not cowboy boots specifically. In fact everything I had on was perfectly functional for the occasion. But I could tell they’d made up their mind about me just by looking at me. They didn’t think I knew shit and treated me poorly.

Before the day was out I did have a chance to ride. They put me on a horse that didn’t want to go anywhere without a mean kick in the side. I believe in training horses to respond to a gentler touch and so I was disappointed to discover how this horse had been treated.

We road around the paddock a bit before hitting the trail. At which point another rider knocked over a jump very near to my horses legs. It spooked my horse, causing it to buck like a mustang at a rodeo. I stayed in the saddle and reigned in the horse, no problem.

And that was when they quit judging me by my ‘city’ boots and skinny jeans.

One outfit doesn’t always do justice to our multitudes.

Afternoon Coffee

Our time together used to disappear into hot coffee, dipped like a pastry and savored. I have no idea what we talked about most of the time, but the conversation was easy.

Hurts Like Love

Towards the end, I saw her stars winking out in bright flashes. The sparks rained down around my ears. My pockets pulled hard on the edges of my coat, too full, as I tried so hard to pick up and hang on to more than I could possibly carry of everything she was.

Ordinary Delights

I found a new book in a little free library. And I’m charmed by a tide of pink petals at my feet as I walk home.

Blissful

New ideas in hand, soaking up the last rays of golden, evening sun, my dog blinks up at me, blissful.

Being Is Enough For the Moment

I walk daily. Even when my thoughts are loud, putting one foot in front of the other is nearly always possible. My eyes are always open but sometimes I see. It is on these days that small treasures find me. Sometimes I slip into a peaceful place, between thoughts, swallowed whole by nowness. Being is enough for the moment.