My childhood summers were all about gardening. My parents planted more than an acre full of vegetables, and I can’t begin to tell you how many summer nights I spent with my mom and dad dealing with the resulting produce. I’ll never forget the time they planted, oh, about 75 percent of the garden with limas, which meant my nights watching Dukes of Hazzard and Fame were interrupted by having to shell bushels upon bushels of limas. They’d literally cover the floor of our den with newspaper and I’d sit shelling the limas amid piles of the beans.

I don’t eat limas anymore. Or barely so, anyway.

Fast forward to today. I’m itching to plant stuff. I want to be outside and in the sunshine. Who doesn’t, really? But the common rule of gardening is to, of course, wait until all chance of frost has left, which around here isn’t until around Mother’s Day. And, it’s not Mother’s Day, now, is it?

But I’ve been playing around with what we’re going to plant in the two raised beds we’ve built in our backyard. We don’t have an acre here to plant, and I don’t have the time to tend it, even if we did. So I’m trying square-foot gardening this year, and I’ve spent lots of time constructing garden plans on Gardener’s Supply garden planning site.

I printed out plans and bought seeds and set about planting what has to be the most obsessive compulsive garden plots ever planted by anyone in the Newsome clan.

I measured out the squares, strung string across the bed to make sure I knew where the squares were, and set about planting. (Here are just a few of the strings…) Pat played with Iver as I dug miniature rows with a stick and carefully, carefully placed the seeds in and patted down the dirt. Good god, I said. My dad would be laughing his head off at me right about now. He used a tractor. I used a STICK. I felt truly ridiculous.

A few days later, up popped the arugula, the lettuce and cucumbers, the peas and beans, the beets and chard.  All in I decided I would wait on the corn (we’ll see how well Silver Queen does in such a small space) and watermelon. Then I planted the corn on Sunday.

I have no patience, obviously.

©2010 angie newsome. All Rights Reserved.

My mom even put together two baby books for me. This one is aptly named:

This one is more to the point (at least to the point of me as a baby):

I learned from the All About Me book that first impressions last (though that isn’t my mom’s handwriting! Who said that??).

I also learned, amid the awesome illustrations, that Iver and I are on nearly the same growth trajectory so far. And I learned that my first ride in the car was to the flea market in Courtney, N.C. That says so much about my childhood.

But the book and scrapbook have seen better days. The covers are dingy with dirt, even though they were kept in their original boxes. The tape my parents used to keep the photos in the scrapbook has long lost its adhesive, sending the photos tumbling out and scattered. The tape also made the photos brown in places.

I really want to preserve these. Does anyone know how I can repair them and clean them up? (And, for the future, does anyone have recommendations on how to make the albums and scrapbooks I’m making for Iver last past her 30th birthday?)

©2010 angie newsome. All Rights Reserved.

Blizzard ‘09. Proof.

Anyway, this snow is not as exciting, I suppose. No techno marathons. No ballerinas in the cafeteria with too-tight buns and only apples on their plates. No walking the streets of New York after cups of tea in cafes. Except now there’s a little girl sitting in my arms listening to me ramble on about these past adventures as we look out the window. She’s all who cares?? Uh, so true. It’s kinda irrelevant considering everything ahead, so, yes, this snow quiet is more intense, more exciting than anything I could have imagined, really.

This morning, our street.

So, to celebrate — I’m still doing the advent celebration, though amended way, way, way down — I spent the day holding Iver and listening to the radio as we sat under the Christmas tree lights. It was so simple. Precious, even, I’m not afraid to admit, because I felt peaceful in a way I haven’t in a while, partly due to sleep deprivation and partly due to finally relaxing that she’s here and OK. I can take a deep breath. Many deep ones. It’s been a sweet, sweet winter so far.

©2010 angie newsome. All Rights Reserved.

But I did want to let those of you who read this *roam and rove* that Iver’s out of her light suitcase — she got out last Thursday! Jaundice is gone! — and that we’ve been holding her non-stop since trying to make up for lost cuddle time. Only thing is, our sleep deprivation is getting worse. Woah. I knew it would be tough, but not sleeping for days on end is the worst kind of torture for me. And today marks the TWO WEEK point, people! What’s going to happen in a year? Or two? Or three? What? I want to know!

©2010 angie newsome. All Rights Reserved.

An update: We left the hospital Saturday, a day later than planned, because Iver had a touch of jaundice. At home, she’s living in a glowing suitcase, so say a little prayer that her bioluminescence is temporary!

©2010 angie newsome. All Rights Reserved.

And now… Onto baby stuff. I’m determined not become another mommy blogger because, really, what more is there to say? I’m pregnant. Yes, that means I’m having a baby. Yes, that also means I’m out of my mind with anxiety and excitement, which makes for some interesting emotional outbursts. (Poor Pat.) And, yes, that means — I know! I know! Stop telling me! — our lives are about to change FOREVER! I love how people fall into two camps when they give us this tidbit of not-so-news: some offer it with the tenor of a hurricane forecast (run! hide!); others fairly float above the ground, buoyed by angels wings and fairy dust. Either way, OK! We get the message! And, really, what can I add to the world of mommy bloggers out there? Umm… Right now, not much.

But thinking about the baby, freaking out about the baby, planning for the baby — this is what’s going on right now, when I’m not swamped with work projects and stories (Goodbye, famine! Hello, feast! Why did you wait until I was 8 months pregnant to show up to this dog-and-pony show?) and tracking down things for the nearly completed house we’re building. So, this post is inevitable.

Right now, all I can think about is what’s about to happen in approximately six (cross fingers) weeks, and that scene where Brooke Shields gives birth squatting under a tree in the Blue Lagoon is running on auto play in my head. Ugh! Freak out! So, No. 1 in my plan to conquer my anxiety about giving birth: Make lists! So far, my lists include possible pediatricians, people to call after the birth, preferences for the birth (a.k.a. the “birth plan”), things to take to the hospital for delivery and afterwards, etc. I haven’t resorted to listing out my favorite desserts, in order, but that list is on the horizon. Anything to keep from thinking about all the what ifs that make me sit upright in bed at 3 a.m. and send me running for the couch and infomercials on male enhancement drugs and acne medications. Good times!

So, if you have any advice on how to make it through these last few weeks and things I really should do before I go into labor and things that I really need to take to the hospital, I’d love to hear about it. Bonus points for things that kept you sane!

©2010 angie newsome. All Rights Reserved.

Yesterday, we said goodbye to him, here at home. He had grown terrified of the vet’s office over the past couple of years, so we found a practice that would send someone to the house. Pat and I both took a few hours off in the afternoon, so we got to spend a lot of time with him, out on the front porch, sitting in the sunshine together and telling stories about him and giving him lots of pets and rubs. Yesterday afternoon was perfect: warm and sunny and quiet. Still, as the clock ticked down, I kept breaking down, so I went for a walk out where we used to go every day and Pat took him out in the backyard. We came back together, fed him some popcorn (something he and I used to love to snack on together) and tortilla chips and just gave him lots of love. We all just sat together and then, when the vet came, he was calm and peaceful and just fell asleep and slipped away.

Now, I hope he’s out bounding after rabbits or bears and finding a good snack on someone’s porch somewhere. We miss him terribly. We so loved that dog. We didn’t expect to at first, but he wiggled his way into living with us, and now I can’t imagine living without him.

xoxoxoxoxo

©2010 angie newsome. All Rights Reserved.

One day, I’ll tell you about how a bag of Santitos tortilla chips brought us all together, how he’d run off to chase bears and play in a nearby creek, how he’d catch moles and flip them up in the air mercilessly, how his breath could wilt flowers and how he was the most lovable thing ever. He’s lived with us for 11 1/2 years, and I’ve been in love with him and so frustrated with him I wanted to pull my hair out. Just as a dog should be.

I can’t imagine being without him, but that time is coming very soon, I’m afraid. We’ve taken him to the vet a half dozen times over the last few months, since he got really sick last February. He’s on a bunch of medications to help, but they’ve stopped helping, really. Pat has to carry him to outside. He can’t do anything by himself anymore.

Sammy, in happier, healthier days.

He’s been such a loving and happy presence in my life, it’s so hard to make the decision to let him go. I hate it. Oh, oh, Sammy.

©2010 angie newsome. All Rights Reserved.

The details of my own life bore me, so I cannot imagine anyone expressing interest in them. My blog has so far proved to be enough of an outlet for me.

Uh-huh. I get this feeling/fear/worry that readers must be bored, even about my own blog, because what’s so great about the details of living? I’m sure everyone cares that the we need to mow the grass or that I have a recent obsession with edamame and chicken pot pies (not together, ew). The devil on my shoulder shouting, “No one cares! This stinks!” is deafening at times. It’s one of those things writers frequently think and struggle with, I suspect.

Still, TONS of things have been going on during the last few months. Important things. BIG things. Things like: my sister had a baby boy, I got pregnant, Pat and I started building a new house and my grandmother passed away. On the professional front, I’ve started co-managing an experimental networked journalism project for the Asheville Citizen-Times and became the home editor for WNC magazine. These are just a few things that have been going on. I also managed to spend a blissful week at the beach with Pat, started weekly cook-a-thons and read my weight in pregnancy materials and books. The past few months have been hectic and emotional and challenging, to say the very least.

I also managed to try my hand — for the first time — with pinhole photography. I’ve been meaning to share these with you for a while. I love the process of pinhole, trying to figure out the exposure times, what to shoot and highlight contrast, and even experimenting with camera housings (these were taken with round cookie tins). Here’s a photo of the back of a building on Haywood Street in West Asheville, just up the street from where I live now. I love the spiderweb effect the ladders leave behind. I think I stood around, waiting for the exposure to be just right, for about three or four minutes. It doesn’t sound long, but it is when you’re balancing a cookie tin on a fence post while trying not to look like you’re standing around waiting for your dealer to show up.

And here I am, all ghosty. I found an old box next to a store, balanced it on bug-encrusted boards, put the camera — again made out of a cookie tin, this time a smaller, taller one — and tried to sit still. I couldn’t for very long, which ended up giving my portrait that fuzzy look. Just in time for Halloween, right? And it’s a fitting image, really, considering I’ve been practicing my disappearing act here on roam and rove for a while. I promise to (try to, anyway) get in sharper focus here. *ahem*

©2010 angie newsome. All Rights Reserved.

February’s low-key, friendly photo meet-up I’ve semi-organized will be on Sunday, y’all. Everyone — with any skill level and any kind of camera (this is, after all, for fun) — is invited. We’re meeting first at Green Sage in downtown Asheville at 5:30 p.m., so this is a sunset/early evening shoot. Tripods or flashes are a good idea — or not, if you’re into blurry, motion-full images. Let me know if you have any questions. We had a great time in January and if you’d like to see our shots from the January meet-up (which included shots of, among other things, a washing-machine graveyard), go here.

In other news, I have some photography-related tidbits to share:

The US Forest Service, I heard yesterday, has changed it’s rules for student groups going out to shoot photos on Forest Service property. Those groups now need a permit, as I understand it. I don’t know how this applies for general groups, but it’s worth investigating if you’re thinking of taking or going with a group of people out to shoot.

And tonight, in Asheville, there will be a lecture by Andrea Clark who, in the late 1960s, took around 1,000 photographs of the city’s East End (part of which includes what is now known as The Block, around Eagle and Market streets) before it went through urban renewal. The photos are now in the collection of the Buncombe County Library. She will be speaking tonight at 6:30 p.m. at UNC Asheville’s Humanities Lecture Hall on “Visions in Black and White: Asheville’s East End,” presumably about her photographs and documenting the area. I love this type of photography, so I’m hoping to attend.

©2010 angie newsome. All Rights Reserved.