So many uncoverings this summer. The trip to Portland in May was a bit of that, as was the robust garlic harvest in early July. So were a visit back to Minneapolis later that same month, followed by a very (very!) thought-provoking four-part researched memoir workshop with Melissa Febos1 at StoryStudio Chicago in August. Now, as summer marches, with a most up-yours of farewells (if you like northern hemisphere fall weather, anyway) toward its season finale, two more uncoverings loom: a) the sweet potato/rogue peanut harvest and b) the emergence of my studio space as a usable environment. Both are nailbiters. I don’t know what I’m doing.
I mentioned back in July that my maiden voyage with the sweet potatoes appeared, goddess bless, to be a success. I’d actually opened the box and removed the half-dead slips and planted them on May 18, 2024, 121 days ago as of this writing.
[That detail is important because that means I’m now in the harvest window! The finish line! YES! The vines are fucking everywhere! They are glorious! I am Mother Earth! Let us reap!]
Yet. I hesitate, like I do. Now what? What’s really going on down there? And then: What if nothing is happening and I just have these vines? Pragmatism enters the chat: WTF am I actually going to do with all of these, if I harvest any viable tubers? Buzzkill stops by: How do you store them without a real root cellar in a changing climate where the basement isn’t the cooler environment in September it once was? Curiosity pokes her head in: Are there any peanuts? Mostly I want to know if I succeeded, if my little experiment, which has intimidated me into inaction twice before, has literally borne fruit, has resulted in food I can somehow store and share with people. Soon.
As for the as-yet-unnamed studio (it may never have a name): Well, I’m typing this from the raw space. YES! I’m sitting on a dark powder blue cafe chair at a rusty, terra cotta-shaded metal folding table from who-knows-where. It might have come with the house, I don’t know. Anyway. I’m sitting here writing this newsletter in this very new-feeling space, which is about 75% of the way Finished Enough. After Bob the Very Busy Retired Guy sands the remaining section of drywall, his work is done. Then Jim and I take over, with a little additional help, to get it to 100% of the way to Finished Enough. It is neither on time or under budget, but that no longer matters.
Here’s what’s next, in verse, because that’s what my list looked like to me - a little poem of sorts.
Order of Operations
The walls need to be primed, probably twice, then
Painted in an as-yet-undetermined shade;
Some adjustments to the door are required
(by a friend who has done such adjustments before, thank god)
in order to fully solve the flooring puzzle; meanwhile
The subfloor and floor still need to be decided on, never mind installed. After all that …installing baseboard trim
feels like a weak
first finale. 2
I don’t know what I’m doing, and I have no idea what I’m going to be doing once this space is Finished Enough, either.
Soon, though. Soon.
LOTSA (Lisa’s Open Tabs, Saved Aggressively)
2025 color trends. Thoughts?
I’m writing about this NPR series about climate change and food very soon
Processed World, Issue #1 (1981)
I liked the City Quitters newsletter so much, I got the book (more on that later, too)
13 years ago in Backyard Industry on Illinois Public Media: Sour Times
Not much better on teevee (or bedside table) these days than Slow Horses
Since drafting this poem, the order of operations has (necessarily) (of course) changed. But you get the picture.
Always a delight to read your writing! Love your new space and that you have this space. I need to figure out a reset for my space. Soon, though. Soon!
I hope you get some beautiful sweet potatoes but I'm extremely jealous of your sweet potato greens!! One of the most delicious in the game.