Garden Like a Mother

This Mother's Day, forget about breakfast in bed. 

A big bouquet? Meh. 

Here's what a gardening mother really wants on her special day:

P. Allen Smith, garden guru and Nice Guy.

1. This guy. 

Okay, okay. I know kidnapping garden lifestyle guru P. Allen Smith is frowned upon. What if you asked him nicely to come and live with you? I'm sure he wouldn't mind.

Hori hori. Scary scary.

2. A hori-hori. Find one here. 

I cannot tell you how much I love my hori hori. This baby does it all -- dig hard soil, slice through stems, rip open bagged potting soil, plant bulbs to a precise 6 inches, insert tender seedlings into a window box. Every gardening mother needs at least two of these babies. Just remember not to make Mom angry when she's wielding it.

3. Awesome garden boots. These are perfect!

Forget last year's running shoes or your husband's battered Crocs. Slip into a pair of these boots for watering, mucking out the compost bin (or horse stall or whatever), or spring garden planting. They are so comfy!

4. A handy garden cart, like this one. 

I don't have a big yard, so I got rid of my old wobbly wheelbarrow and bought this little workhorse at Lowe's. Notice that it has two wheels, so no tipping! It also has a handy slot to toss my tools in as I'm pulling it around in the yard. No more squatting with my hori hori in my back pocket (ouchy ouchy!). It's not large, but hey, am I hauling full-sized trees around? Not on your life. That's Dad's job.

5. Garden gloves that rock!

These gloves by Womans Work are the best! "Made by women for women." Need I say more? And they come in bright colors, so they are easily spotted in the grass where I dropped them yesterday ...

6. A jaunty hat. 

Let's face it. Moms are so over this tanning business. It's all about preservation now. But no seed caps for us--why not wear something more flattering, like a wide-brimmed straw hat? Keep off the rays, look fab. 

7. This book. 

One of the best all-purpose reference books on my shelf. This book answers questions you didn't know you had, and most (if not all) of the ones you do have!

So there you have it -- some suggestions for your shopping pleasure. There's still time to order. Get cracking, family--and I don't mean eggs for a Mother's Day omelet, either. 

Rainy Night Curry

The first time I ate curry, I thought it was weird. 

It was at camp, where we were encouraged to scoop stew onto our plate and then heap it with such incongruous ingredients such as bananas, peanuts, and tomatoes. Um, excuse me? I'm from the Midwest here, people ... 

The next time I ate curry, I was a newlywed, temporarily living in the Western Highlands of Kenya with husband Tim, who was serving at Tenwek Mission Hospital as part of his Indiana University Medical School training. The whole community came together regularly for parties (send-offs, welcomes, any excuse), complete with big pots of curry, heaps of rice, and lots of sweet and savory condiments. During our two months in Kenya, I cooked exclusively from the More With Less Cookbook, which has lots of great recipes for curries (which is a spice as well as a dish). Slate has an interesting article about curry, by the way.

Thai chicken curry. Yum! You have to include fresh
cilantro. Seriously.

Curry became a staple in our apartment during residency. Still using More with Less (now tattered, food-stained, and missing its cover), I cooked up curry stews for dinner--perfect fare when your spouse is coming off a 36-hour shift and will be home ... sometime. The stew would simmer away, and I'd keep reading Keats, Milton, and Zora Neale Hurston and writing papers until I saw the red-rimmed whites of his eyes. Once, Tim nodded off to sleep while eating curry.

I don't make it as often, but I still hanker for a big pot of curry now and then, particularly on cold rainy nights when I want something rich and spicy. I made the this recipe on a recent rainy night, a Thai curry that my kids gobbled up with enthusiasm. Curries are handy when you have kids coming and going at all hours, too.

Many of you know that I've been following the DASH diet (learn more about it here) because of high blood pressure and some other chronic issues. This curry does contain some carbs, but to make it DASH-friendly, I used chicken breasts, lots of high-fiber veggies, and low-fat coconut milk (and I skipped the basmati rice, which sucked, because I love basmati rice). And instead of using canned curry sauce, I improvised with three tablespoons of ground curry and half a can of low-sodium chicken broth. 

About carbs: they aren't banned on the diet, except for the first two weeks, but now I only eat them in small quantities, only a few times a week, and I only eat high-quality carbs (handmade whole-grain breads, whole veggies like potatoes with their skin). I'm eating lots of veggies, fruit, and legumes, as well as lean meat. This diet is very doable, and I'm feeling so much better than I have in ages. 

Try curry some rainy night -- it really hits the spot. And don't blame me if you become an addict.

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.

Get On the Bus, Gus

We often take the train to Chicago, when
we need a taste of city life to remind us
why we live in a small town.

I was heartened to hear this good news from the New York Times this morning: 

"More Americans used buses, trains and subways in 2013 than in any year since 1956 as service improved, local economies grew and travelers increasingly sought alternatives to the automobile for trips within metropolitan areas, the American Public Transportation Association said in a report released on Monday."

We have the millennials to thank, perhaps. This is one generation who seems to want a quality of life beyond just accumulating a lot of stuff. It sure takes a load off the atmosphere when people stay out of their cars and trucks. 

Where I live in rural Indiana, we don't have much in the way of public transportation. Or do we? Now that I think about it, we do have a town taxi service (which my husband has used to get from here to there once in a while) and we have a public bus service run by the Life Enrichment Center (which most people think is just for old folks, but anyone can ride). 

One of the reasons my family moved downtown was to be close enough to walk and ride our bikes to most destinations. And we can, mostly, though it's still a bit of a haul by bicycle to pick up a gallon of milk or a couple of nails. I would love to see a five-and-dime downtown, a place to pick up those sundries.

We have a Mexican grocery downtown that I patronize, but the last time I checked, they didn't have milk or eggs--er, leche o huevos.

In a few weeks, my daughters and I are going to take the South Shore Line to Chicago for a day or two over Spring Break. In eighteen years of living in Plymouth, I've only driven to Chicago once. Taking the train is one of my favorite things to do with my kids. We get on in Chesteron, IN. They read, knit, listen to music, take naps, and I watch the landscape go by in between the pages on my Kindle. We manage to find public transportation whenever we've traveled to the city--Washington, D.C., Boston, Chicago. Our greatest vacation ever was taking Amtrak's Empire Builder to Glacier National Park. 

Alas, we can't take the train to Indianapolis or New Albany, the town where our parents live--there's no convenient rail system going that way. Ironic, eh? 

How about you? Do you take public transportation when you get the chance?

The Right to Refuse

Can you fit your yearly output of household trash in a quart-sized jar?

Bea Johnson can.

Recently I spoke by phone with Johnson, author of a book entitled Zero Waste Home, which details her family’s life of voluntary simplicity. She told me that after years of living a “big American life,” her family decided to move closer to town (they live in a California coastal community).  While they house-shopped, Johnson, her husband, and two young sons rented an apartment and stored everything but the basics. To Johnson’s surprise, living with less was easier and more enjoyable. They shed 80% of their stuff and now live in a house one-third the size of their previous one. “Living more simply is so rewarding,” she says. “A simple life has allowed our family to travel more, to have more experiences together. Life should be based on experiences, not things.”

 

Bea Johnson lives by this mantra: “refuse, reduce, reuse, recycle, or rot” (compost). “Refusing” comes first for a reason, because it stops clutter at its source. For instance, imagine the pile of junk mail that arrives in most mailboxes weekly. Johnson prevents junk mail delivery by opting out of mailing lists. Stop it, don’t just recycle it. “If you accept junk mail, then turn around and recycle it,” Johnson says, “you are basically telling that company, ‘Send me more of your stuff!’” Contact the Direct Marketing Association to opt out of unsolicited commercial mail.

Johnson also refuses freebies or giveaways—the t-shirts, pens, and gewgaws she is offered at trade shows, conferences, or events. “Once you pick up a freebie,” she says, “it becomes your problem. Then you have to figure out what to do with it.”

Packaging contributes a huge amount to household waste, so Johnson refuses it by buying her food and household supplies in bulk, bringing her own jars, reusable bags, and baskets for items such as deli meat and produce. By providing her own containers, buying whole foods, and choosing loose or bulk items, she has no plastic bags or containers to dispose of. Occasionally a grocery store clerk will question putting deli turkey in a Mason jar, but Johnson says, “I just tell them I don’t have a trash can.”

What about refusing family heirlooms? “I have told my family that I don’t want more stuff in my life,” says Johnson. “Stuff is not irreplaceable.  I prefer to remember loved ones by the things I did with them versus keeping the stuff they lived with. I’m sure my grandmother would not want me to have something I don’t want or can’t use.” She does own heirlooms, she told me, but she uses them every day instead of storing them like museum pieces.

Johnson told me that her family’s zero waste lifestyle has been a gradual process, and that there are some things she will compromise on. However, she would never return to her life before she downsized. She’s having too much fun.

I'm reading Johnson's book now, and I'm totally inspired. Here's another place to find it:  Zero Waste Home: The Ultimate Guide to Simplifying Your Life by Reducing Your Waste. Follow Johnson on Twitter (@zerowastehome).

Welcome to the Fresh Words Blog

Hello.

A few years ago, my family relocated to a gem of a house on Main Street, USA. Since then, we've been learning how to live smaller, with less--while finding out what means the most. 

In this blog, you'll find

•  writing about the environment
•  ideas about de-cluttering ... for good
•  inspiration for "curating" a classic older home (mine was built in 1928)
•  the inside scoop on small town life (it's better and worse than you think)
•  newsy updates on gardening, traveling, parenting, and anything else I can think of.

Thanks for stopping by.

Our house is a 1,400 square foot Colonial Revival.