Mimi's Gift

My grandma Mimi passed away when I was 7. I have scattered memories of her from my childhood - making me sandwiches in her kitchen, playing "the counting game" with my little sister, decorating her screen door with seashells we found on trips to the beach. Though my family cherishes these little memories, it's been a long time since we've received anything tangible that connects us to her.

But on Christmas eve, we opened a large package from my aunt. Inside was a tangled mass of yarn scraps and half used skeins, along with a note explaining that this was Mimi's knitting stash. We were in awe.


We quickly decided that this yarn could not be used for just any project, but needed to be saved for something meaningful. After some deliberation, we decided to use all the scraps for a very colorful Christmas tree garland. I spent Christmas eve and day slowly knitting a very long I-cord that will adorn our tree in years to come.


Little by little, memories of Mimi are working their way back into the present. We're all very grateful for that.

Traditions

I think my favorite part of Christmas is the traditions. I like the rhythm of performing all the same little rituals year after year. For my family, Christmas means new pajamas, eating our grandmother's stuffing, and a screening of old home videos.


The youngest member of my immediate family will turn 20 this year. We're all well past the age where Christmas revolves around Santa. But regardless, our Christmas eve still ends with a plate of cookies and a handwritten note reminding St. Nick that we've all been (relatively) good this year.

Some traditions deserve to last well past the point where they make sense. At our house, any break in tradition is usually met with a moderate amount of panic and protest, and with good reason. These little rituals make my parent's house feel like our home again, even though it's been years since any kids lived there. They make a group of people now scattered across the country feel like a family. These traditions and the memories they invoke serve as little reminders of all the history that ties us together. They're worth celebrating.

Happy Holidays

I realize it's December 28, but the holiday spirit is still alive and well here, so forgive me if the next few posts seem a little belated.

Solstice

Despite my solemn promise not to leave the apartment yesterday, by mid afternoon, I couldn't resist any longer. I needed to take advantage of the reasonably good weather and take a walk through central park.


When I walked outside, I was completely taken aback by what I saw. The streets were nearly empty, and for a few hours, the city looked clean. Quiet. Still.


Personally, I don't mind New York when it's a little bit gritty (in a way, the dirt is part of its charm). But I have to admit, this city is a different place when it's blanketed in snow. All of those easily overlooked details seem to demand the attention they deserve.


This little snowstorm was a perfect start to the Winter Solstice. Already, my world seems brighter and more at peace.

Happy Solstice.

Happily Snowed In

We had a mini blizzard last night. There's several inches on the ground right now, and it's supposed to continue all day.

But no worries. I've got an old rocking chair, a hand-knit blanket, and enough peppermint tea to last through 2010. Let the weather do what it pleases. For once, I'm ready for it.

Spreading Warmth

Last July, my local yarn shop held its annual Charity Knit Night. Each year, we get together over wine and pizza, and knit squares to be sewn into a blanket. I always look forward to this night. There's something so healing about getting together with friends and creating something meaningful. I watched so many hands, including my own, bring this blanket together.

The fact that I felt so invested in this project made it all the more incredible when, on Thursday night, that blanket was raffled off to raise money for our local homeless shelter, and I won!!


Right now, with temperatures dropping and the heating system in my apartment working rather inconsistently, I can think of no better place to be than under this blanket - my beautiful, cozy, blanket made by some of my favorite people for some of the best reasons. Nothing could make me feel warmer.

Looking Ahead

My growing season is coming to an end. I moved the herbs inside last week, and early this morning, freezing rain claimed the last of my peppers. Aside from some frost-hardy swiss chard, my garden is closed for the year. I'll miss it.

Before

After

But saying goodbye to this year's crops has me looking ahead to next year's garden more than ever. Right now, I'm planning for tomatoes, lettuce, cucumbers, brussel sprouts, eggplants, herbs, blueberries, strawberries, hot peppers, bell peppers, summer squash, winter squash, and an asian pear tree.

Feel free to laugh at my naivety. I know this list is ridiculously ambitious given my space and skill limitations, but I don't care. This year, I'm thinking big.

Chickens

In most respects, apartment living has exceeded my food producing expectations. Vegetables and herbs have been surprisingly easy to grow in a limited space (with limited skills), and I'm hoping to attempt my first fruit tree this spring.

Still, there is one little thing I haven't been able to produce here; Livestock. Specifically, I want chickens. really. really. badly. I don't know why it's chickens that I've fixated on, but my little farm just doesn't seem complete without them. There's just something really cool about a pet that can produce my breakfast.

I know trying to raise chickens in a studio apartment would be a little cruel/insane, so I've shelved the idea for the time being. Still, the search continues for a farm animal I can raise in my apartment. Maybe quail? Or rabbits? Do compost worms count?

Standing on Winter's Doorstep

It's snowing right now; not that gentle, flaky snow. Nope, it's the rainy, sludgy, wet kind. I'll be the first to admit that winter is not my favorite. Every year I cling for dear life to the last days of fall, refusing to trade in my pumpkins and sneakers for Christmas lights and insulated boots. I'm not looking forward to a barren garden, temperatures in the teens, or sunsets before 5:00. All that can wait.

But the snow? That's a different story. Right now I'm sitting in a coffee shop watching the snowfall from a safe, warm distance, and I have to admit it's beautiful. Even the sludgy snow makes the city seem a little quieter, a little cleaner. I may not be ready to embrace winter, but for now, I can make my peace with the snow.

... but I'm still keeping my pumpkins.

Secret Santa's Workshop

The holiday knitting has begun!

That Crazy Girl on the Subway

As my friend so delicately put it, "Christmas threw up on this city." The day after Thanksgiving, Christmas ads were everywhere, and it got me thinking. This year, I want my holiday to feel a little less commercial and a little more homemade. 

I spent Sunday at the Jersey Shore with my parents, and just as we were leaving the beach, we stumbled upon a HUGE pile of starfish (a rare event at a beach better suited for finding trash and syringes). I decided it was fate, and I would make all my Christmas ornaments out of starfish.

Problem was, I had to catch a train back to the city, and I didn't have time to let them dry. I ended up riding the subway back to my apartment carrying a garbage bag full of starfish and a large birdcage (I'll explain later).

You know those crazy people you always see on the subway? I think I just joined their ranks. 

Sheep and Wool

Just a few of my new friends from the New York Sheep and Wool Festival. I wonder if I could raise any fiber animals in my apartment. Angora rabbits maybe? 

Thanksgiving: Take 2

Thanksgiving lunch was a hit! I gave up on soup and made squash sandwiches with goat cheese and onion. They were so well received, my mother let me in the kitchen to make the brussel sprouts for dinner. Those 2 dishes, plus my grandmother's home-grown cherry pie meant that Thanksgiving at our house contained more local dishes than ever before (a huge accomplishment given that my parents are addicted to Costco). 

Progress. 

Giving Thanks

Bless this food we are about to eat. To those who hunger, give bread. And to those who have bread, give the hunger for justice. - Latin American Prayer

Thanksgiving: Take 1

My parents usually have Thanksgiving at their house, and this year I'd really like to help make the dinner (I want to learn my grandmother's stuffing recipe). Unfortunately, my mother's typical response to inquiries about how I can help is, "you can help me by getting out of the kitchen so I can finish. Go watch the parade." 

Instead of getting in her way, I decided that I could prove my worth in the kitchen by making Thanksgiving lunch. I starting searching for a pumpkin soup recipe that I could make almost entirely out of local ingredients. I figured soup would be something light, so it won't fill everyone up before dinner, and it can be prepared ahead so it'll keep us from interrupting my mom in the kitchen. After weeks of searching for the perfect recipe, I made this...

...and it was crap. My devoted taste tester took 1 bite and said "I love you, but please don't make people eat this." He spent the rest of the day referring to the soup as "poo food" - a delightful little nickname referring to its color and texture. 

I haven't given up on the idea of Thanksgiving lunch, but if I try to serve my family "poo food," I think I'll be banned from the kitchen permanently. So for now it's back to the drawing board.

The Squirrel

For those of you who have never been to New York, you should know that we have squirrels. These are not the cute, fuzzy, little creatures from my childhood backyard. No, these squirrels are different. I've seen a squirrel run up a tree with, not acorns, but an entire slice of stolen pizza in its mouth. These squirrels are bigger, bolder, and hungrier.

Last year, my garden was regularly invaded by a squirrel that had taken up residence on my fire escape, and it had no mercy. I tried everything. I was told that sprinkling cayenne pepper would deter him, but he just thought it made my tomatoes taste like salsa. I planted peppers so the smell would drive him away; he ate those too. I hung CDs to reflect light - nothing. I used dog hair to create a "predator smell" - nada. I sprayed him with water, and he just stared me down. That squirrel was determined.

This year, maybe I'll take a different approach. Instead of wasting my time fighting a losing battle, I think I'll just plant a little extra, and plan on sharing. After all, I'm trying to invite more nature into my life, not scare it away.

If you can't beat 'um, feed 'um.

Guerilla Knitting

A little bit of knitted graffiti I stumbled upon a few months ago. 

Last Year's Garden

This photo is of the sad little "garden" at my last apartment. 

Despite being tiny, windy, dark, and squirrel infested, this little fire escape was able to provide a surprising amount of food. Throughout last year's growing season, I was able to produce lettuce, peppers, cherry tomatoes, swiss chard, mint, basil, cilantro, chives, and a small sunflower. Granted, some of my attempts were more successful than others, and most of the produce was eaten by squirrels, but it did grow. I have pictures to prove it. 

Ruminations on Knitting

I started knitting by accident. It's not something I would have decided to do on my own, but two years ago, I was dragged into a yarn shop by a friend who had decided the craft was "punk rock," and we needed to learn. That friend gave up knitting 48 hours later in a fit of frustration. I never stopped. These days, I'm constantly surprised by how knitting has worked its way into every part of my life.

This sweater is helping me survive my first semester of graduate school. The body was knit during midterms - one row at a time - at moments when studying just made my brain hurt. It was a tangible measure of the progress I'd made each day (much appreciated at a time when my academic progress seemed very intangible). 

I think knitting has become my therapy. I carry a half finished project around like a security blanket, and inevitably turn to it in times of stress/anger/boredom. In the years since I was first dragged into that yarn shop, this craft has taken up increasing amounts of my time and disposable income. Most of my non-knitter friends don't see the value in that. 

But I'm pretty sure it's worth it. 

Beginning

Welcome to City Solstice.

A week ago I moved from my cramped one bedroom apartment to a studio. I know most sane New Yorkers wouldn't voluntarily move from a tiny apartment to an even tinier one, but for me, the decision was easy. I moved for this...

It doesn't look like much now, but this cluttered, weed filled, terrace is my garden. To this girl, who has been trying for years to garden on windowsills, fire escapes, and so many other places not designed for growing anything, this little terrace is a dream come true. With a little luck and a lot of advice from people more knowledgeable than myself, I hope to turn this little "farm" into a thriving source of beauty, joy, and most importantly, food.

This blog will chronicle my attempts to live sustainably, eat locally, and adopt a DIY lifestyle in one of the most urban environments in this world. On this little journey, there will be gardening, knitting, cooking, thrifting, and whatever else I find along the way.

Wish me luck.

-Solstice