Made | Simple winter hat with neon pom pom!

I found this neon yarn when I was home this past Christmas. I had made several of these scarves, and my stepmom wanted me to make her one, too. We went to Michaels so she could pick out the yarn she wanted, and I couldn't help but pick up three skeins of this chunky neon yarn. I got this neon pink, highlighter yellow, and a neon orange. I figured what better way to bring a pop of color to the predominantly white landscape of winter than with neon pom poms, and I was right. I love how soft it is, and it fashions into the poofiest, fluffiest pom I've ever made. 

The hat itself is a simple pattern I came up with, tall enough to fold the brim over for warmer ears, but short enough to wear as a floppy hat, letting that neon pom bounce around in the wind. We're nearing the official start of spring, but I have a feeling we'll be braving 20 degree weather for a while yet, so this hat is my plan on how to transition into spring without freezing to death. 

Want your own simple hat with neon pom? You can find it in the shop here and here.

Hello, May.

Welcome, May. Welcome to cool mornings and evenings book ending warm days. This month we will officially start our outdoor garden, go camping for the first time, celebrate Jenna and Mike's birthdays and Mother's Day. We will migrate to Ludlow for Elsie's Creamery and brunch at the Ludlow Country Club. There are no pressing projects except those we've chosen, those that will prepare us for a slow burning summer. On my to do list: find the perfect fudgesicle and ice cream recipes, reintroduce my bike to the world, sew a picnic blanket, sew a picnic dress, transplant the tomatoes, drive with the windows down, go for walks after dinner, sleep with the windows open, paint.

In the wake.

We huddled around my computer in the kitchen at my office, listening for any updates, staring at our phones. Snippets of sentences: my wife's there, my friend's daughter is there, my neighbor's running the marathon. 

At first there is confusion, then disbelief and the scrambling search for what is true, what is real, what is happening. The tiny beating hope that the rumors are mistaken.

I thought there were things reporters weren't supposed to say on the news so as not to incite panic, things like there is so much blood and missing limbs. The comparison to a war zone. The looping video of explosions followed by smoke followed by a second explosion, all soundtracked by screaming, the very specific sound of chaos. Each time my gaze went up, following those three yellow balloons tied together as they ascended above the site of the first explosion, hovering nearby as though waiting.

Driving home, I listened to NPR, which consisted of the same information and confusion I'd heard on WBZ. At a stop light in Inman, I rolled the window down despite the chill, wanting to be in the same air as those around me, wanting to hear the voices coming from the car to my right.

Each night after work, my thoughts usually go to the next day, mentally preparing for work, counting down to the weekend. But Monday night there was none of that, just the tunnel vision of right then, right after. When the news got to be too much and we'd seen the same scene 20 times, when I'd checked Facebook more in a half hour span than I usually do in a month, we went for a walk, if just to see the world as it was right then rather than as we'd last seen it on TV.

It's been a beautiful couple of days here, the much anticipated spring is unfolding petals everywhere. What appear to be dead trees and bushes, upon further inspection, are brimming with green, with signs of regrowth where none had been the day before. This season is usually a refreshing one, but this time around it is a comfort, a reminder that in the wake of a gray and bitter winter there is life just underneath, waiting to begin anew.

Oh yes, it is Spring after all.

In true New England fashion, today—almost a month after the actual first day of spring—feels like it, really, spring. Maybe it's the timing of the sunrise, the sky flushed and the early morning shadows of trees against the houses on my street as I leave for work, when hardly a month ago it was still coated in night. It might also be the feeling of a holiday, an eastern Massachusetts holiday—Patriot's Day—and the spirit of all those marathoners in town. There is something coming alive here and therefore in me also, I am starting to feel like there are enough hours, there are enough days, that I will get there, wherever there happens to be, and enjoying the journey, which often includes the figuring out of where there is.

Both photos taken on the way to Atlantic City, NJ, April 2013

Hello, April.

Hello, April showers. Welcome, longer days, rolled up jeans and no socks, homemade iced coffee, and smoothies for breakfast. Hello to weekends outside, and the impatient anticipation of Spring in full force.

Making good.

There is something about the promise of spring, of warmth that makes the forgotten goals of the new year resurface with a new urgency. Recently I've had so many conversations about getting older, and while I by no means consider 26 to be old, I feel a responsibility toward myself, my body, my mind that I didn't feel at 24, 22, 19.

I'm inspired by these women and these women to live more simply and with more grace and responsibility toward myself. This morning I woke up before the sun and did yoga in the living room before my shower. I couldn't believe how much of a difference that made; I was so much more awake, enough so to make us an egg sandwich for breakfast instead of just a piece of toast. I know it's a long road to consistent healthy decisions, but I love the sense of accomplishment with even baby steps.

Made | A home for seedlings.

One of the things that got us excited about our current apartment is the backyard that we share with our landlords (who live upstairs). They rarely use the space, and our back porch looks out onto it, so it feels a little bit like it's just ours. In August, when we moved in, we talked about how next summer we'd plant a garden and try to grow all of our own tomatoes. (I also mentioned chickens during that conversation to get Mike ready for when we own a place and I come home with chickens, but I'm still wearing him down.) So when we went to Ocean State Job Lot a couple weekends ago and saw all of their gardening stuff out, we figured we'd stay good on our word. Last weekend we started our very first batch of seedlings.

We used a seedling starter kit, which came with little soil pods that expand when watered. We bought seed packets and used some tomato seeds we saved from our friend's dad's mini farm. In all, we planted cucumbers, zucchini, yellow squash, cilantro, basil (that little green house off to the side), jalapenos, green onions, and cayenne peppers. This past weekend, we bought even more seeds and soil pods. We figured not all of them will make it (we're optimists over here!), so we want to get as many started as possible to get the odds on our side. We plan to transplant them when spring decides to come (it snowed a couple days after we started the seeds) into these wine boxes from the restaurant where Meg works. They're the perfect size to keep on our back porch so we don't kill the grass, and we'll be able to take them with us when we decide to move.

After the cruise, I was fine with taking a little more winter, and was glad for a snowy excuse last Friday to work from home again. But after a weekend of real sunlight and walking around without a coat on during the day, I'm feeling the spring itch.

Anyone have any tips for new gardeners? Any tips for convincing Mike that we should get chickens someday? If you're looking for tips or inspiration yourself, I love this farming blog.