The Terrors of Authorship

Writing a book seems like such an audacious thing, and self-publishing it even more audacious, though people have been self-publishing since papyrus was the medium of choice. Or maybe even cuneiform. However, I have always known that I would write a book. It's been in my blood like some sort of chronic condition. Having done it feels surreal and supremely satisfying.

Authorship, though, is terrifying. Hiding behind someone's copy is one thing. Claiming the product of my creativity is like parading naked through the marketplace, as many writers have already shared. (Edna St. Vincent Millay said, “A person who publishes a book willfully appears before the populace with his pants down. If it is a good book nothing can hurt him. If it is a bad book nothing can help him.”)

Making the transition from writer to author happened between the third and fourth draft of my book, after the copy editor had her way with the manuscript. I wasn't scared by her constructive criticism; as an editor myself, I treasured her comments. What really scared me was that she was taking me seriously, that I was really writing this book, that it really was going to be published and PEOPLE WERE GOING TO READ IT, including my relatives (who, by the way, are lovely people who have done nothing but encourage me).

So here it is, on the cusp of its release: a little guidebook about living a less cluttered life. I started writing it over a year ago, and I am more convinced than ever that I would not live any other way. If writing the book helped me realize this, then it was worth all the trouble to write it. And if it proves helpful to its readers, then I'm twice as happy I wrote it. Godspeed, little book.

My ebook, Declutter for Good: Share Your Stuff and Reclaim Your Life will be released September 15, 2014 on digital platforms, including Amazon.

The Nirvana of Turf Grass

Grow! Grow!

Glimpsing the tiny sprouts of new grass in the backyard, I was strangely exhilarated. After years of growing perennials, annuals, trees, and shrubs, I had arrived at the Nirvana of Midwestern gardeners: I had grown Kentucky bluegrass.

Turf grass serves important purposes in a garden. It gives the eye a place to rest, highlighting the other ornamental plants. It serves as an open space for picnics and badminton. It provides a nice place for a hammock, especially if you have the shade of a spreading tree overhead.

I can appreciate grass if it serves those functions. I'm definitely not a fan of grass for grass's sake, however. Too many landscapes are just grass, often heavily fertilized with nitrogen and other chemicals. While they look appealing to some, those landscapes offer nothing of nutritional value to the birds and the insects that make up our ecosystem. A recent article in Farm Futures, a publication for the agriculture industry, noted that "approximately 55% of the nation's rivers and streams are in poor condition for aquatic life, an Environmental Protection Agency survey released Tuesday found, citing pressure from nitrogen or phosphorus runoff, rising bacteria levels or diminishing surrounding vegetation." 

Yikes.

Considering that fact, my husband and I strategized that our back yard would contain a central circle of grass, surrounded by beneficial shrubs and plants for wildlife. Growing grass from seed was a new gardening adventure for me, but I figured it couldn't be that hard, right? 

I knew we couldn't just throw grass seed down on the backyard's compacted soil. With help from a friend with a Kubota, we removed the remaining dead grass and old shrubs from the planting area, tilling to about six inches. Then we raked the surface smooth, pulling out roots, rocks, and grass clumps.

I laid a hose around the area I wanted to seed, defining my space. Then I spread grass seed evenly in the space and raked it in gently. Thanks to last year's straw bale garden, we had plenty of rotted straw to spread lightly over the seed for mulch--good for protection from birds and wind and for retaining moisture. A good soaking with the hose followed: the challenge of growing grass is keeping it constantly moist.

During a cold snap when the seeds seemed unresponsive, I ran into a certain former Purdue Extension educator and told him of my project. "Fall's the best season to grow grass, right?" he said. I vaguely remembered this from my master gardener training--I think I may have dozed off during the turf grass lecture, actually. I felt a moment's doubt. Was I really going to screw up grass? How could I hold my head up as a certified master gardener if I couldn't do grass?


Lots of people swear by clean fresh straw for new grass, but I had wondered if rotted straw would be just as effective, and apparently it was. After several weeks of frequent, light watering, despite cold weather, grass began to sprout. My daily cajoling probably helped, too. "Grow, grow! C'mon, little seeds!" I said, every time I walked from the garage to the patio. My youngest teen would just shake her head and scurry into the house ahead of me before anyone saw her.

Grass and flower beds - a nice combo!

Now from my upstairs office window, I can see a well-defined circle of bright green, patchy and fragile, like the hair on a new baby. I'm hoping it will be filled in enough for the graduation party in June. 

Yeah, I can do grass.

Podcasting and Selling the Car

I'm so excited about this movement in a state known more
for its coal-fired power plants than its environmental activism.

Last month, the shoe was on the other foot for this green journalist. Kathy Sipple of Sustainable Indiana 2016 interviewed me about my family's experience downsizing and decluttering. You can hear the podcast here. (Kudos to all the people I've ever interviewed ... it's much easier to ask the questions!)

I'm talking about decluttering again tonight at Earthworks Market in Plymouth. Every time I share about my family's experience, I'm reminded that we are not the only people searching for a "right-sized" life. Every Monday I get an email from Miss Minimalist with another story of a "Real Life Minimalist." Though my family released 3/4ths of our possessions and moved to a house in town that was half the size of our suburban dream house, our adventure was not as radical as some have undertaken. I'm humbled when I read about people who gave up even more than we did, but who would never go back to a life of unconscious consumerism.

I keep finding ways to downsize, even now that we've downsized. It's fun to find ways to live a simpler, yet richer, life. My husband's been doing it, too. He's contemplating selling his 2008 Mustang GT (a gift from his parents for his 40th birthday) to fund a family trip to London before our oldest goes off to college. I can't make that decision for him, but it's another amazing demonstration of how our values have changed from people who own to people who would rather live.

Incidentally, my ebook Declutter for Good: Share Your Stuff and Reclaim Your Life will be out at the end of the month, God willing.

Starting From Scratch

I thought about titling this post "Total Disaster Gardening," but that sounded a trifle hysterical.

The yard needs work. That's an understatement. After demolishing one garage, building a new one, demolishing an old stone wall and rebuilding it (stone by stone), taking down an old misshapen silver maple and planting a new "Red Jewel" crab apple, our tiny backyard looks like a bomb went off. The iron fence is in pieces. The lawn is compacted in places and non-existent in others. The pavers used for bordering the old flower beds are laying around like shrapnel. And without the canopy of the old tree, everything feel exposed, like a new scab.

Last summer's straw bale garden, plus rubbish.

Ick.

Since the weather was fine yesterday, I decided to go out and sweep. Which led to shoveling the rotted straw bale garden into a pile. Which led to stacking pavers for a new compost area. 

Ironman (husband Tim) came home after a ride around Lake Max with his training buddies. He looked over the renovations and said, "Are you trying to shame me?"

"Yes," I said, rubbing my left hip. (Bursitis. Fantastic.)

The new compost pile. Note the tilting fence section and
sad-looking viburnum. Both will be replaced, someday ...

This morning, looking over my work from yesterday though, I'm pleased. We recently tossed our garbage disposal, which did nothing except fund the plumber's son's college fund, so I'm thrilled to start this new pile after a winter of guiltily tossing my scraps in the trash. I'm also thrilled to find a use for the pavers, which always seemed too big for such a diminutive space anyway.

And I saw two earthworms and a centipede yesterday, very much alive and wiggling despite the frigid winter of 2014. Time to get to work, fellows.