The Yellow House

I went on vacation. For an eternity, really: two whole weeks and three whole weekends. I highly recommend dropping off the face of the earth for awhile if you get the chance. (Inevitably, you will think the chance does not exist. But it does.) My sister and I flew to Phoenix for some sunshine, a family wedding, and hiking the Grand Canyon. Dropping some photos here, mostly for myself. I am obsessed with this desert palette now: jade, pink, sand, sienna, deeper browns, warm greys and violets. Baja, Mexico road trip photos + copious notes on fish tacos to follow soon. Until then, I’m beginning this dubious business of getting back to the real world.

At night, we bundle up and go down to the cellar. We decided to get hardcore about seed-starting this year and bought grow-lights. In the past, I’ve started seeds on windowsills, which works, sure, but the seedlings end up a bit leggy, and real estate is limited. Now, improbably, our windowless, 52-degree cellar is the home of seed-starting operations, spread across a big table with lights that shine 16 hours a day. We put on music, drink steaming tea, and get lost in the rhythm of poking holes, dropping in seeds, covering them up, watering them. All at 9 or 10 PM. It’s a little counterintuitive, and lends a certain drama to the work, like we’re growing something illicit in our basement.
It’s that silly time of year where we’re all pretty done with winter, but there’s still an interminable stretch until it’s honest-to-goodness spring. Even winter itself seems wan and ready to be put to bed, allowing some warming sun to poke through. On one or two afternoons, we’ve been able to move the garden prep outside for a few hours. But the nights still get very, very cold. The dirt still has a hard, frozen crust on its surface. I am still eating pantry-staple legumes. It is definitely not yet spring. » Click to read more