over-commitment as motivation

A few weeks ago I wrote about resolutions and about how this year I didn’t plan to make any. Instead, I’ve decided to motivate myself using a tactic that flies in the face of everything I’ve been trying to achieve since deciding to quit my job and move to New Mexico. I have decided to over-commit. Will it add stress back into my life? Yes. But it will be a different kind of stress than I left behind. Writer Jeff Goins explained the rationale for this seemingly counter-intuitive tactic best in his guest post for Zen Habits:

“The adage “under-promise and over-deliver” is a farce. It only propagates the status quo. Real difference-makers push boundaries. They test, prod, and poke until something gives. You can do this, too, by saying “yes” to more things than you’re comfortable with. Learn to stretch yourself. You might be surprised by what you’re actually capable of. Your confidence will grow, too.”

And so, I have committed to a number of new things. I joined a writing group, took on a coaching job, became co-leader of my quilting group, and signed up to create two quilts for a March quilting show. Yes, March. This March. And believe me, that last one is taking me way out of my comfort zone. Not just because of the deadlines, but because I’ve also decided to make my first two art quilts.

Challenge 1: Create a quilt using the fabrics of blind New Mexico artist George Mendoza

Challenge 2: Create an Irish-themed quilt (the show opens on Saint Patrick’s Day)

I have already come up with both designs, sketched them, bought the fabrics, but that’s as far as I got. Until today, when I started work on Challenge 1. Here are the fabrics I’ve chosen (minus a solid red):

And here, is a rough sketch of my design:

Rain Storm

I’m still not sure how the clouds will work and I may change the direction of the lightning, but I got the base fabric (flowers) and second layer (rain) out of the bag and onto the board which is a good first step. Second step — finish sewing the two quilts that are due on February 13th, but that’s another post altogether (as is Challenge 2).

 

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anatomy of a quilter

I am a fourth generation quilter. Like my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother before me, I have always been captivated by the feel and sight of different fabrics, by transforming scraps into comforting works of art. I made my first patchwork quilt when I was 10 years old. It was a simple strip quilt made from leftover fabrics from quilts and clothes my mother had made. Since then I have made more than 20 quilts in a variety of sizes, all traditional patchwork patterns, but have longed to break away from right angles and other geometry into the freedom of art quilting.

green man sketch

Quilt ideas come to me the same way poetry does. Something catches my eye or mind — a color, a pattern, a feeling, an idea. When that happens with words, I clear my mind, pick up a pen, and let the words rush out. When it happens with quilts, I make a bee-line for the closest fabric store (in town or online) and let the colors and patterns swim together until a picture comes out. When it does, I sketch it, post it on my cork board, and get to work. I especially love quilting challenges because they force me to break out of my usual thought patterns and let the fabric or topic speak to me.

Valor Quilt -- Milky WayIt has been years since I’ve made a quilt, but since moving from San Francisco to Santa Fe I am alive with inspiration. My board is crammed with ideas, some my own, and others inspired by challenges. I am currently working on three quilts: a traditional patterned donation quilt for Quilts of Valor that was inspired by a memoir I’ve been working on about my grandfather who fought in WWII, a challenge quilt featuring the fabrics of local blind painter George Mendoza, and a St. Patrick’s day challenge quilt featuring the Green Man drawn from my graduate school research on the same topic. Oh yes, and of course my Pizza Quilt. What better way to embrace Santa Fe than a southwest-style quilt made for me by my new guild sisters. 2012 is going to be an exciting year.

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resolving to make no resolutions

Monarch

Photo by Erica Marshall of muddyboots.org

I’ve always been big on New Year’s resolutions. So big, in fact that I do them twice yearly, once on New Year’s and again on my birthday six months later. And they’re not some simple “loose 10 pounds” or “go to the gym” type of resolutions either. They are a multi-category, multi-goal, multi-step extravaganza. Thing is, just like everyone else, by the time the next new year rolls around, I just wind up putting the same old things back into the same old spreadsheet (yes, I’m that girl). Maybe I change a few words here or there, like the name of the novel I swear I will finish this year, or swapping yoga for chi gong, but nothing really changes and the song remains the same. Until this year. Thanks to some wise words from some fellow bloggers, and the new perspective that comes with remaking your entire life.

This year I will set no goals, list no due dates, make no resolutions. This year, instead, I chose a theme. One word that sums up what this year will be about for me. 2010 was all about looking at my life and figuring out whether the life I was living was the one I wanted to live. It wasn’t. In 2011 I changed almost everything in my life in order to give myself a chance at the kind of life I’ve always dreamed of. I quit my job, I moved, I hunkered down. Call this tiny casita a chrysalis, if you will. It is time now, to bust out of the shell.

2012 is the year of EMERGENCE. Of stepping out of the shadows. Of bringing my work out into the world.

And how about you? What will the theme of  your year be? Here are the articles that inspired me in case you need a little inspiration as well:

Already I’m learning how much I can accomplish when I stop focusing on the goals and just do the work.

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’tis the season for year-end donations

Give us this day...

Photo by Mr. Kris (http://www.flickr.com/photos/krislitman/)

As if holiday gift-giving wasn’t challenge enough to navigate when you’re sustainability-conscious and on a budget, December is also the time of year that non-profits bring out their full-court press to drum up tax-deductible donations. Just about every museum I’ve ever been a member of, every medical group I’ve ever visited, every cause I’ve ever donated to has sent me an email in the last two weeks. Some have sent snail-mail as well.

In the past, I’ve been happy to give. In fact, in the past, I’ve made sure to give to at least one charity in each of my three key cause categories: Education, Preservation/Conservation, and Food Security. Some of my favorite non-profits include:

Unfortunately, having just seriously downsized my career, I just can’t do it this year. Not like that, anyway. But if giving is still important, and I believe it is, that begs the question: What does one do instead of gifting cash to all these well deserving organizations? And if you do give, how do you narrow it down to one or two?

Here are my basic guidelines on how to choose:

  • Pick one cause — animal rights, the environment, education, whatever it is that most pulls at you. If your are flush with time and/or money, consider choosing more than one cause or donating to more than one group within the cause you choose.
  • Narrow to one specific aspect of that cause — I love Seed Savers Exchange for their work in preserving biodiversity to help ensure food security. But supporting the local farmer’s market is just as important. Choose what calls to you.
  • Can’t decide? Consider donating to a group with a broad foundation like the Sierra Club or Red Cross.

Once that’s done I begin to look into specific organizations, asking myself:

  • Can I support an organization with a membership instead of a donation? Membership support an organization plus gives the member free or discounted access to a world of inspiration — a win-win.
  • Can I donate time or goods instead of cash? Can I make or serve meals? Donate from my overfilled closets? Sew pillowcases or holiday placemats?
  • Is it local? Do they help and employ people in my immediate community?
  • Where does their money go? Is it 100% to the cause or do they spend a lot in overhead and administration? Sometimes those hidden costs are necessary. Sometimes they’re less so.
  • What are their mailing policies? Sending out direct mail seems to me a waste of resources, time, and money better spent on the cause itself.

That last one may seem a bit silly, but for me, it’s a sore point every time I open a letter. And that’s the whole crux of this, you have to feel good about what the organizations you support do, otherwise you may not feel as good about giving to them, especially when there isn’t much to go around.

So, who made my list this year?

  • Museum of New Mexico Foundation (membership) – Membership and donations provide the support necessary for education and outreach to thousands of New Mexico students, docent and volunteer training, research materials, conservation, acquisitions, exhibitions and special public events.
  • Upaya Zen Center (membership) — Upaya Zen Center is a Zen Buddhist practice, service, and training center which focuses on the integration of practice and social action in the areas of death and dying, prison work, the environment, women’s rights, and peacework.
  • Quilts of Valor (quilt creation and donation) – The mission of the Quilts of Valor Foundation is to cover ALL combat servicemembers and veterans touched by war with comforting and healing Quilts of Valor.
And what about my big three causes? Well, they’re still important, and I will remained very focused on them in the coming year, both in my personal life and in my blog. But this season of giving, the two things that hit the strongest chord in me were art/creativity and peace — for all our sakes, especially for those who are sent out to fight for it.

 

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only the name remains the same

The next phase of One Garden has  begun. Already you will start to see a few changes — new sections listed across the top of the site, cleaner information on the right and left. Soon there will be new posts, more content, a more streamlined topics list… maybe even a new tagline.

What won’t change? For starters, the name. That and the content that’s already on the site. We’ll be expanding the garden, cultivating new ground, but there’s no reason to dig up the beds that are already growing strong.

So thanks for your patience while we move things around.

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a bit of green in a white world

Despite loving the freedom of a few gardening-free months, there is something to be said for having a little life in the house. A piece of green to brighten up a room. I have one small houseplant in my tiny house — a Christmas cactus my parents hauled out from California when they helped me move. It must still be in a bit of shock, because while usually by this time it’s overflowing with pink, so far this year there isn’t even a hint of bud or bloom. Still, the green is dark and glossy and quite nice atop the wide bookcase against the back wall of the room. The thing is, I want more.

There is an empty pot in the bathroom waiting for a Sansevieria, for starters. I just haven’t found the right plant yet. And then this morning, I saw this:

Fish Tank Terrarium

Fish Tank Terrarium ⓒ Christy at Describe Happy

And I love it.

Now, living in ~ 300 square feet, I don’t exactly have room for a 28 gallon fish tank filled to the brim with skulls and horses and plants, but I could certainly find space at the edge of my desk for something smaller… say, something like one of these:

Apothecary Jar Terrarium

Apothecary Jar Terrarium ⓒ Michaela at TGE

 

Mason Jar Herb Garden

Mason Jar Herb Garden ⓒ BHG

Here’s what I love about terraria:

- They’re easy to make from stuff you may already have lying around the house, or can find cheap at thrift stores or yard sales

- They can be big or small — whatever fits your space

- They are low maintenance because they are largely self-containted (especially good in water-poor areas like the desert)

- The sky’s the limit in terms of design — create a mini tropical rain forest, a sparse, cactus-inhabited desert, a green mossy hill, or a kitchen herb garden in jars; add marbles or dinosaurs or tiny farmers with shovels and hoes

A few things to keep in mind:

- Choose plants that won’t outgrow the container too quickly

- Keep them in a place where they won’t get direct light

- Water only as needed — there’s no hole in the bottom so excess water won’t drain out

- Remember, the bigger the container, the more plant variety and creativity there’s room for

Check out some of these simple DIY terrarium tutorials (no reason for me to reinvent the wheel when these folks did such a good job with theirs). And as for me… I’ll be keeping my eyes open for the perfect tank or jar and will post progress as I make it.

Fish Tank Terrarium

Apothecary Jar Terrarium

Lightbulb Terrarium

Light Bulb Terrarium

Light Bulb Terrarium ⓒ April at The Hipster Home

 

 

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in the thick of it

snow dayI have never really lived in a place with winter. Not since I was a little girl and spent a couple of white, wet seasons in upstate New York. I never even learned to ski, thanks to a paranoid gymnastics coach, so I skipped all those Tahoe trips so many of my friends took, and still take.

I have to admit, I was afraid of it. Afraid of the way it might chill me to the bone, especially given how easily I have always gotten cold. Afraid of the slick sidewalks and icy roads. And yes, I was also afraid of what I might do, stuck here in one tiny room longing for my garden and for spring to come.

I have always been able to garden all year through. San Francisco’s temperate climate means there is always something to do — rake, mulch, plant, trim. The garden is always calling you. But not here. Here the garden is sleeping beneath it’s thick, white winter blanket. You can’t even hear it breathing the world is so quiet thanks to the snow.

I never believed I’d actually say this, but I am in love with winter. In love with the white. In love with the silence. In love with the way the world slows down. It is such an amazing blessing, all this space and time I never knew I longed for.

QOV fabric pilesThere is a whole world in this one room, free of the demands of the garden. I have found time to get back to hobbies and projects too long put aside. I have started making quilts again. I have been writing. I have this whole new old life that my lust for greenery had pushed aside, and I am loving it. And I want to share it with you. Because while I am reveling in letting the garden lie fallow, the blog shouldn’t have to. There is enough growth in this one room to keep this space thriving no matter how hard or how long it snows.

Of course that means some things will have to change. This blog will need to stretch out and make room. It will sometimes need to peer into cupboards. It will sometimes need to look out at the world. It will need to find the connection between plant and fabric and word and stone. And there is a connection. It’s called Home.

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winter comes early

snowy yardThis morning when I woke up the rain was pounding heavy on the rooftops. Rain we desperately need after the long, dry summer. I listened to it for a long time, letting my mind wander from water, to transforming my new studio casita into a comfortable home, to the words I need to write for this years Nanowrimo novel. By the time my mind returned to the rain, the room had hushed and I was surrounded by a silence I hadn’t known since my few childhood winters in Rochester, New York. A silence I could wrap myself up in like the most comfortable quilt I’ve ever known — the corduroy one my mother made that still sits on the couch in my parent’s family room. I looked out the window to see what it was.

Fat snowflakes floated slowly down in bunches, coating the still-green apple leaves and newly mulched ground in a dusting of white. I have known snowy winters before. I have seen blizzards and light snow. I have experienced the “joys” of sleet and wintery mix. But this was special — my first real snow in my first real home in this strange new place. It is worth every centipede and every cold nose.
snowy hollyhocks

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a subversive plot

Roger Doiron, founding director of Kitchen Gardeners International and the man who led the charge for Michelle Obama’s White House kitchen garden, gives an eye-opening and inspiring talk on gardening as a revolutionary act.

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opulence

succulents

Yesterday I returned from 12 days in California visiting family and friends. It was my first time back there since I moved to New Mexico in March. It’s amazing how just a few short months can completely change your view of the world.

poppy and the sea

First there was the water, flying into Oakland airport over the bay, lunching in Pacifica, spending an afternoon in Santa Cruz at a house that sat right on the beach… I had forgotten how the water just hangs in the air, suspended like mist even on the clearest day. I had forgotten the soft hands and the wild curls that I used to have before moving here. But mostly I had forgotten the riotousness of the gardens, the colors, the rich, wild scent of it, the abundance. I, who lived my whole life in that place, had begun to believe it was all a dream.orange

But there I was awake in my mother’s back yard, the one I learned to garden in, surrounded by an apple tree heavy with young fruit, rhubarb plants with leaves as broad as manhole covers, tomato plants peppered with yellow shooting-star flowers and the round, green beginnings of a rich bounty to come. It was glorious to bask in the colors, the textures of wide leaves, to stand barefoot in damp grass.

But the truth is, I missed these wide skies, the hummingbirds and rabbits outside my window, and the sheer force of will and determination that permeates desert gardens and the people who grow them.

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