Backyard Garden!

Okay, so really it's not my backyard.  I live in a multi-unit apartment building with no yard.  And my bedroom and kitchen windows face the alley.  And because of the way the streets are situated around the area in which I live, there's this huge triangular vacant lot bordered by those alleys.

See, big plot of land.  Being in a quiet out of the way place surrounded by alleys behind a bunch of residences and businesses, it's pretty useless, right? WRONG!  For one thing, there's this mechanic shop across the way.  Every summer, they voluntarily keep it mowed find junk like old stumps to use as goal posts and play soccer for about half an hour or so every afternoon.  I've always thought it utterly delightful, giving the mechanics a little bit of a break and getting some fun and exercise.  But also ever since I moved from my old apartment down the hall to this one and had a full view of that vacant lot out my window the thought has also always crossed my mind, "That would be a great place for an urban garden."

I've played around in my head about how I could possibly find out to make such a thing happen.  But at the same time have also been hesitant to take a lead on something like that, because, first off, I'm a renter and who knows how long I'll actually stay in the area and secondly, the idea just seems like a huge prospect for one lone person with really no previous involvement with the community and really no huge large knowledge or experience with gardening to begin with.  I have had small gardens in the past and grown my own vegetables, but I wouldn't call myself an expert.  Dig in dirt, plant seeds and seedlings, watch them grow.  Pick and eat!  So a bit intimidating, to say the least.

About a week ago, I look out my window and see three people in casual business attire standing in the middle of the lot chatting, taking notes, making hand gestures referring to the area.  I couldn't hear a thing but it was obvious they were talking development of the lot.  I won't lie, seeing them brought out a bit of the protectiveness in me since the awesomeness of a community garden idea had fully implanted itself in my brain.  So I got suspicious and worried.

Worried for no reason!  Today, I found yellow flyers by the mailbox saying they were putting a community garden on the lot!  Meeting next week to discuss the plans and to sign up for plots!  Sending Dan to the meeting (because I have to work that night) to sign us up.  Counting my chickens before they hatch but. . . . GLEE!  I'm gonna have a garden!

Farmer's Markets

Farmer’s markets in the city. I love them. I wish I could go to them more often. But let’s face it. The products are pricier and so they aren’t the best place to go for a person on a budget. But since I love them I do try to go a few times every summer, knowing full well it’s going to bite the pocketbook a little.


I enjoy the other benefits, which is why I go to them. One, assuming you shop to the right markets, most of the products are local and mostly organic and you’re getting it as fresh as possible. So I know the food hasn’t travelled far, is better environmentally in that respect, I’m getting hit with less strange chemicals, I sometimes get to meet the people that actually produce the food and I know my money is going directly to them and their efforts. And the variety of produce we can get at the market is sometimes much better then what you can get at the local grocery store. Sometimes we discover something new. And, frankly, it’s just a great reason to go out for a walk.

I love the seasonal aspect as well. Depending when you go, only certain things are available. Once again, it’s that getting food you know is as fresh and as ripe as possible. It hasn’t been something picked too early and sitting in a crate travelling thousands of miles while it hopefully ripens by the time it gets to where it’s going, losing nutrients while it’s slowly ‘dying’. I love that I can only get squash blossoms at certain times of the year. That heirloom tomato varieties explode in late summer. That I only have a small window of time to get fresh local cherries. That I have to wait until the end of the summer and into fall to get some of the best ‘unpastuerized’ apple cider I’ve ever had. And, if you shop smart at these markets, and purchase things that are at the peak of their season then the price difference compared to the local store is really not as big of a deal.

We never buy a lot. Always go with a set amount of cash and that’s all we can spend there. We always buy a cheese. I love the cheese. You can’t get it anywhere else. If I can, I try to go to the farmer’s market before going off for actual grocery shopping for the week. Then we see what’s there, buy what we like the best and get to plan the rest of the shopping list around it. This particular trip we got squash blossoms (I was thrilled to see those. Only one vendor had them, it was late in the year for them) which were used in a tart, cucumbers for Dan to pickle, blueberries which got thrown into pancakes and oatmeals, and the goat cheese, well that was used in a little bit of everything. Including the squash blossom tart.

I kind of wish I’d been in the mood for tomatoes. They were all over the place and so many varieties. Was that time of year. But if I’m not in the mood, I’m not going to eat them. So maybe next year. I’m also considering participating in some CSA as well next year. Will depend upon whether I can find one that will fit our needs.

My Little Brother, the Playwright

Recently my brother came into town on business. He’s a playwright. And I admit I love saying that because he is my brother and he’s actually writing plays and getting them read or produced and being recognized for it. It is a tough thing to do being recognized among the sea of artists that exist in the world. So I’m very proud of him and the work he’s put into it. I admit to also being oddly perplexed by the awe this recognition garners from other people when I mention my brother is the playwright because again, he’s my brother and I used to bloody his nose and babysit him.


This visit to Chicago is actually probably the first time I’ve gotten to experience that odd juxtaposition. My little brother, the recognized playwright. Edith Can Shoot and Hit Things is one of his newest works. It was chosen out of many plays from up and coming minority playwrights to be read at the Victory Gardens Ignition Festival this year. I was very excited about this as I’ve not had a chance to see much of his work since he’s based in New York, I actually had suspicions when reading the synopsis of the play that it referenced our lives, and it was just great to be able to see him.

Distance keeps us from seeing each other much. And Lord knows I’m not the best at keeping in touch through phone calls and other connections. So I’m not the best at communicating that I love and care for my siblings. But they are most definitely a part of me. And when I do manage to see them or speak with them, I am more than happy that they are part of my life. And I’m glad that when we get together we get along so well. I do think a good part of that attachment is because we share a unique bond because of our experiences growing up. Which is not to say we’re the only people who have been through what we’ve been through, just that we were there together and it has had a profound effect upon our lives.

A good portion of the plot in Edith Can Shoot touched very much on that part of our lives. My brother literally pulled out some of the essence of what were his, my sister’s and my teenage/pre-teen years and squished it into a two hour play. They say the best writings you do are based on what you know and this proves it without a doubt. It’s a work in progress, needs a few tweaks and some of the actors could have been better, but overall the writing did very much express the emotions and drive of the characters. And I definitely felt for the brother and sister. I understood where their words and actions came from. I knew exactly what these kids were feeling. Because I was there. I had felt those same emotions, said and heard those same words. And it was weird. Good! But still weird. I was seeing our lives being played out on stage.

And I had to constantly remind myself while watching it and during the Q&A afterwards that the rest of the audience had no idea how personal this was to me. There were definitely distinct differences between our lives and that of the characters. For example, our mom isn’t dead. And there are other things, but I hesitate to mention them because it would be giving away plot. But the emotional base of our childhood was there. I found myself rolling my eyes and laughing quietly listening to the people’s responses of pity and worry for these kids and kept thinking “We turned out just fine.” At the same time the empathy was strong. There was one specific moment in the beginning of act two that really hit me and then by the end of it I did want to cry. So even though the audience’s responses made me chuckle, I also had to resist walking out because the emotions were too overwhelming.

I did cry, by the way. When the Q&A was over, my boyfriend came to me asked me if I was alright because I’m fairly sure the look on my face was expressing something not normal. I said yes I was fine and no, I want to cry and leaned on his shoulder and did.

I know. I’m biased. But it was a profoundly good play.