Monday was for Boxes

My dear storyteller friend is living with us temporarily as she finds her way in this vast world capital of millions. One of the areas of density common in London, among many many things, is storage space. We don't have any. So, in adding a third person's food and likes and nibbles to an already creatively packed cupboard and counter top, we needed some assistance. Hence, I nicked balsa wood 'frutas y verduras' crated from the neat, clean recycle pile outside of the health food shop on my way home. It rode the Tube with me for an hour and I carried it home in the mist. It now holds pasta, can foods, and root veg on the floor in the kitchen. I also wrote about it.

Wooden boxes holding cola bottles

Wooden boxes for jalapenos

Wooden boxes for the sea shells

and tea cakes; fancy cigars and rows of jewlery

Wooden boxes to keep out of mind,

and keep the whiskey, too.

Cleaning Spree

It's almost as if Spring Cleaning is already here, except that I've been on a kick to reorganize the house since the new year. I think the new year/new decade was part of it, but also the fact that Alex and I have now lived in our flat for an entire year now--and some things are still shoved in corners and are in need of dusting.

Well, the number of things shoved in corners are definitely dwindling. Dusting is another story, but a more perpetual task rather than something really not having a home at all. It was a complete revelation tonight that I could push the books on our shelves all the way to the BACK of the shelf. For some reason both of us had it stuck that the books should be all the way the front. Now: more space, better energy, brighter room. Somehow magnificently.

It is off to bed after a full week's work so far (still getting used to this) and I am a happy girl with clean dishes and organized bookshelves. It doesn't take much.

Clotheslines in Autumn

It is late autumn in London and storms have been blowing over the British Isles for days now. Weather being weather in ways I have never seen before. Today and yesterday came with a few sprinkles, but mostly sunshine and wind--and it is the wind that fascinates me. There is so much energy in the wind; potential, hope.

When the sun shone with the wind this morning one of my first thoughts was the ability to efficiently dry cleaning washed sheets on the line; sheets of cotton soft flannel, a delicate brocade pattern of white on ivory. Sheets for loved and visitors to snuggle into, wrap up in. I could dry the sheets in the house, on a stand or the radiator, but the smell is different, the texture of the fabric, the softness.

The image that never fails me is the clothesline of a house on the Irish bus I passed each day to university. Freshly cleaned family washes strung out for any kind of weather, relying on the wind. The property around the house went on for as far as I could see, a stone wall at the front separating the land from the road. My garden would have fit in their driveway by comparison, but I got a sense of the openness--the potential--as I struggled to pin the sheets to the line today, the wind dancing around me.

Urban Homesteader

Somewhere in my longing for Americana, I have this romantic notion of what it would be like to live in the South, proper woman of the house looking over her Southern home, the sweltering air and crickets at sunset.

To be honest, I have no idea where this comes from. I don't even think it's from the movies. I've never been to the South and I'm almost positive that if I actually lived there at any time over the last century I would have real trouble, one way or another. Plus, I don't think it's just "the South" that's in my head, more of a meshing with images and music of the Appalachian mountains and my upbringing in Northern California.

While a past life full of hoop skirts and sweet tea could be the answer, it occured to me today that maybe it's related to a larger movement I didn't even know existed by name. Again, my trusty, wise friend VeggieKnitter got me thinking when she told the story of someone being intrigued by her being an Urban Homesteader. Something clicked: is this what all my cooking, baking, gardening, crafting, sustainability, organic produce, composting-daily stuff is about?

OK, so maybe urban homesteading--working towards self-sufficiency in the "heart of the city"--doesn't really have anything to do with my fantasies about the South, but with the way my brain works, I still think there could be a connection. Even if it's scallop edging with polka dots, glass jars, jam, and fresh mint from the garden.

Dessert of Créme Brulée with Local Raspberry Jam
+ Zubrówka Vodka & Organic Raspberry Apple Juice

Doesn't something about it just make you start dreaming?