On yard work and criticism

I hope you've all enjoyed the spring! Upon my return from Texas, I went right to work on the house. So far, we're trying to convert our too-formal tv room into a more functional space, exchanging our giant sofa (let me know if you want to buy it-- it's only a year old!) for a smaller sofa and chair in addition to a shared "work station."

Sofa, "Toby," Bryant

Chair, Ottoman, sofa with fabric swatch.

Using peppers and tomatoes I brought home from the farm, I made jalapeno (how do I add a tilde on this damn thing?) salsa per Mike's recipe and it is, frankly, divine. Super spicy, totally fresh, and of course, salt-free.

This stuff will change your life. 

And, per my post title, I've also engaged in some heavy-duty yard work. Behold, the fruits of my manual labor:

We're planning to replace all of the pine straw with fresh pine straw, but need to get rid of all the random plants, weeds, and vines plaguing our front yard. The picture above shows the yard a little over halfway through my marathon. I find raking entirely addictive; I love it because it gets me outside and active. And in the front yard instead of the back, I get a better chance of visiting with my neighbors and getting some sun. All around, a good gig.

But let me not mislead you. I am not, in any way, trying to suggest that I like to garden. That is a completely different thing. I prefer deconstruction: clearing, sorting, discovering. And discover I do! I've found tons of interesting things:

Above: the hatch from "Lost," a random drain, and an unlikely tulip with a pretty treacherous vine as a neighbor. 
I was reminded, as I was scraping away the layers of my yard's many years, that my interest in yard work is not unlike my interest in literature. Don't roll your eyes. You knew this was coming.

Upon introducing myself as a PhD student in English, I usually get the question, "Oh, so you want to write novels?" NO. I don't ever, ever want to write novels. Or publish poetry. Or do any "creative writing" of any kind. I love that other people do it, but it isn't for me. I'm not very creative. My skills match my interests: examining, parsing, discovering. And here's my favorite discovery of the day-- one of two beautiful snakes! This fine lady/handsome man was nearly a foot long:

If you can, zoom in to see its tongue out!

I was startled, of course, and then worried that I might have hurt it in some way. It was extraordinarily slow until I stepped towards it; it then slithered, I hope healthily, away. 

I then thought about what I was doing-- all day I'd seen beetles and ants, a worm here and there. I'd uprooted weeds and pulled back vines. I was definitely affecting a mini-ecosystem (stay with me-- I promise this isn't about to go crazy hippie on you!) But I did really begin to consider myself a custodian, rather than an owner, of my own yard. After all, this is my third raking snake, and that got me thinking about my scholarship as well.

The pieces I work on are very, very old. They have their own birth stories and their own growth stories. They've passed through countless hands, crossed countries, and ended up recopied and now, scanned and on a computer screen. And while authorship is a difficult matter, especially in chronicles whose composition actually spans centuries, I should always be aware that they are someone else's creation. They are bequeathed to me, but never mine. I'm participating in a community of scholarship in the same way that I'm participating in my own little ecosystem. It's exciting and challenging; it's rewarding and productive. Its discoveries are delightful, and I claim those moments of uncovering rather than those of creating. I scrape instead of sow.

Until next time, wishing you a summer full of revelation and, if it's your thing, invention as well. 

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day, readers! Hopefully most of you have been able to spend some quality time with your own maternal figures.  I just returned from Belize with my mother and mother-in-law (in addition to stepfather, father-in-law, sister, sister's bf, and husband). I was simply thrilled to share the perfect vacation with perfectly wonderful women.

My mom, ever-adventurous, first took me buddy diving in Belize almost two decades ago.  Now certified, I find diving with her both delightful and dear-- it's an activity  she has always spoken of highly, and one I dreamt of sharing with her for most of my childhood (dream realized below).

She's done all the great mom things-- helped me through horrible times,  celebrated the better ones, never, ever, EVER given up on my potential or my happiness. But her contribution to my live is so much more than her role as mother. It is also as teacher, friend, and eager passport-stamper.

Indeed, nearly all of what she's taught me (like how to identify marine exoskeletons, above) has revolved around adventure, travel, and natural science.  She used to point out all the constellations and tell me to scuff my feet in the shallows; she made me swear up and down that I'd never night swim in the ocean and taught me how to handle snakes; she assured me that the whole world was worth seeing and saving, and I--ever curious of her globe-trekking footsteps--have tried to follow close behind in order to do so.

My mother-in-law is simply awesome. A working mother and wife for over thirty years, she has paved another road for me to follow. Her commitment to family is inspiring and a little intimidating-- could I do what she's done and still have a perfectly level and loving head on my shoulders?  I've got some time to prepare myself for the adventure of working parenthood, but I'm glad to have another kind of model before me.

My stepmother, too, has been a great setter of bars.  A ridiculously talented, totally genius architect, she has literally made a mark on our world. She's shown me how important it is to push myself professionally, even within an extraordinarily difficult field that is far from family-female-friendly.

Of course, the mothers in my life are not limited to these three wonderwomen. I am ever-grateful and humbled by the grand feats of my sisters and friends.  I feel empowered and encouraged by all of the examples you set the many roads you paved, and the constant, love you show.  

Until next time, may you find yourselves surrounded by as many good mothers as I.