An Oddly Beautiful Fruit

Yesterday, for the first time in my life, I cut open a pomegranate. I can't believe it took me so long! I've had pomegranate seeds plenty of times but until now, I had never retrieved them myself.

And I was really quite taken by how beautiful the inside of a pomegranate is. The seeds are tucked into the fruit in clusters and they're so vibrantly pinkish-vermilion that they almost look like little candies. You can use your fingers to gently loosen them from the skin of the fruit and where they were nestled, a tiny little imprint is left. It's such a strange fruit and I found myself marveling at it as I peeled back the layers and collected the seeds in a bowl. It wasn't nearly as quick as, say, peeling an orange, but it was oddly therapeutic.

All of this reminded me of a lovely article I recently read on pomegranates. It's a celebration of the imperfect, a beautiful reflection on how it is often the scarred and bruised and ugly fruits that produce the sweetest, most divine flavor. I loved the piece when I read it a few days ago and have new appreciation for it now that I've experienced the beauty of a pomegranate firsthand.

Glamorous

When it comes to my regular beauty routine, I keep things pretty simple. I like natural, minimal makeup, my hair is fairly low-maintenance, and to be honest, I just don't have the desire to spend a lot of time primping in the morning. I like to look put together but I also think that simple and natural is the best way to look fresh and to look like yourself.

But there are certain times--like weddings, or special family events--when I want to get dolled up and wear a little more makeup and put a little extra care into styling my hair. And the problem is that I can be sort of clueless when I'm outside of my simple, easy routines. I can blow-dry my hair into a silky sheen with a paddle brush, but I'm absolutely terrible with a curling iron. I can't french braid (if only I could--this would be so beautiful for the holidays) and I'm not even good at regular braids. I only recently learned from a Sephora employee how to properly put on eye shadow, but I'm much more likely to skip the eye shadow and just use a touch of this on my eyelids for an even, neutral look.

My usual way of adding a little extra charm to my look is with a pretty lipstick. This is a beautiful, subtle red, this is a gorgeous deep berry that's perfect for fall, and I recently ordered this lipstick set and can't wait to try out some of these luxurious shades.

But I've been thinking lately about liquid eyeliner and how I would just love to be able to achieve that perfect, sleek, winged look for those occasions when I want to feel a little bit glamorous. Something like this.

Image Source

For years I've used this eyeliner--it's easy to apply and results in a soft, smoky, subtle look, and I like it a lot. But don't you agree that there's something so alluring and polished about black liquid liner? It's retro and elegant--think Audrey Hepburn--and by keeping the rest of your makeup simple, it puts all of the emphasis on your eyes.

I'm on a mission to be able to do this (using this eyeliner pen) and I found this video to be a very helpful starting point. Wish me luck! Maybe by Christmas I'll have it down.

DIY Kitchen Art Idea

Last Christmas, my parents gave me a subscription to Cook's Illustrated, which is possibly the most well-known, professional, beautifully-done cooking magazine around. I love the approach they take--testing and testing until they have found the most perfect way to make a fried egg, or until they have discovered the absolute best balance between flavor and texture in a wild mushroom soup. They take the scientific approach to cooking which is great, because I don't have the knowledge or the patience to do that in my own kitchen! I've learned so much from these magazines and I can wholeheartedly say that reading these has made me a better and more informed cook.

I recently noticed that on the back of every issue there's a lovely, vintage-style drawing of different foods or herbs or spices. Aren't these terrific? Luckily I was able to dig up a few old issues that I had saved. I can't believe I hadn't seen these before. I did a tiny bit of research and discovered that these are all hand-drawn by an artist named John Burgoyne. What a neat job he has, and how wonderful to know these illustrations started out as pencil drawings!

Image Source

I don't have room to do this in our current kitchen but I'm imagining these in white mats and frames all together in a gallery style wall. Wouldn't that be neat? And I could add to the collection each time I got a new issue or two. I don't always love the look of a gallery wall but I think keeping the frames all white and sticking to a tight grid pattern (versus a random, spread-out pattern) would make for a pretty sophisticated, vintage-style kitchen wall. 

What do you think? Should I keep this project in the back of my mind as potential DIY kitchen art? 

Useful Or Beautiful

Image Source via Etsy

I've realized something about the kind of thrift/consignment/antique shops I love most for finding interesting, inexpensive, one-of-a-kind pieces for my home. I've been to so many over the last few years--in New York, here in Alabama, in Washington, D.C.--and it can be easy to be swept into the shops that look the prettiest. The ones that have cute window displays and look more like a boutique than a secondhand store. And these places can certainly be terrific. In fact, for clothes and shoes and bags, these kinds of thrift stores are preferable. (If you ever need recommendations on places to find secondhand clothes in New York, ask me!)

But when it comes to thrift shopping for the home, the places I love the most--the ones that I've found hold the most buried treasure for the greatest value--are the ones that aren't so cute. The ones that are a little dusty and not so organized, the ones where you really have to look to find something worth buying. The kind where you come away with only one or two things but also the knowledge that you got the best that shop had to offer on that day. After sifting through the junk for an hour, it feels pretty great to be rewarded with a little gem.

I've found that this kind of thrift-shopping takes some patience and practice, however, so I thought I'd share a few little tips that I've picked up over time. I'm going to use this little silver-plated footed tray--which I recently got for less than five dollars in a highly disorganized and quite dusty shop--as my example.

First, you have to be able to picture it another context (in other words, imagine how it would look outside of the disorganized shop) and envision how you'll use it at home. I knew this footed tray would look perfect on my nightstand. It's the right size to hold a few little things, the feminine, glamorous style works well with my cut-glass antique lamp, and it has a unique shape that you don't often see. I also love the scalloped edging and the hammered metal look. It's just different and it's my taste and I knew it would be both beautiful and functional in our home.

Very often, you have to also use your imagination. This tray didn't need anything other than a good scrubbing, but more frequently my thrift finds need a paint job or some other big transformation to bring them to life. You should have a sense of how you'll be changing the piece to fit your style before you leave the store.

And finally, can the piece work in multiple settings? For now, I'm loving my little silver tray on my nightstand and think it's ideal for holding my wedding rings and my watch and some lip balm. But I may not always want it there and before buying something, I make sure it could work in a few different ways. I could easily use this in a bathroom to hold bobby pins or lipstick, on a dresser for my jewelry, or even on the edge of a sink for some fancy soaps.

One of the best aspects of thrift shopping, I think, is the imperfectness of it all. I love the patina on this tray, and I love that it's not exactly symmetrical (one corner is slightly bent). I love that you're so much more likely to find old things, handmade things, things that no one else in the world has but you.

Are you a thrift shopper? Do you think these tips are helpful? I'd love to know.

That One Summer

My husband and I were in a long distance relationship/engagement/marriage for a total of five years. Looking back, that seems crazy! We were young when we met and we both were pursuing important and interesting things during those years, and that time apart really did make us closer. Nevertheless, it wasn't easy.

But during the summer of 2009, we had a slight reprieve from the aching longing and missing that we had gotten so used to. Our lives overlapped and we spent a blissful summer together in New York! I had an internship at a publishing house in Hoboken, New Jersey, and my husband was working in Jersey City in the financial district. I was staying in NYU housing on the Lower East Side and his apartment was across the river in New Jersey, so we still had to travel to see each other, but I can't explain how lovely it was to live in the same area for a few months. We really made the most of it.

We met in the park outside my office building for lunch on most days, where we had glorious views of the Hudson River and the West side of Manhattan. We had tons of picnics and went bike riding and saw outdoor movies. We went to a Mets game one night, visited museums, and my husband took me out on the town for my 21st birthday. It was all so much fun.

I was just reminiscing and going through some of my photos from that summer and thought I'd share a few. It's amazing to remember how giddy I was all summer long, and how wonderful it is that now this man is my husband and I get to see him every day! I sure am blessed.

Hanging out in Central Park.

Being silly at the Met.

Sitting on a park bench together after work. I like this one because I remember that I had something else going on that night, so we met at a bench just to say hi and talk for a few minutes. We couldn't get enough of each other.

We went out to the beach on Long Island one weekend!

Reading the paper and drinking coffee in the park. I remember feeling like such a city gal!

A bike ride down to lower Manhattan.

Dinner in Hoboken.

This was taken near Madison Square Park, where we spent a lot of time together.

That one summer really gave us strength, and fuel to keep going, and gave us a glimpse of what our lives would one day become. If you've ever been in a long distance relationship, I'm sure you can understand just how precious and restorative a few months together in the same city can be!

When Science And Art Collide

My husband loves science. It's something he's really passionate about and while he's not a scientist by profession, it makes up a big part of his life and who he is. Everything from the tiniest and most unusual creatures on our planet to the incredible mysteries of our universe, it fascinates him.

My husband is always eager to share the latest things he's learned with his not-so-science-y wife (the only C I ever got in college was in a mandatory science class I took freshman year--and what's pathetic is that I was actually trying!). But even though science isn't at all my forte, I try to be a good listener, and he's taught me some amazing things. If it weren't for my husband, I would have never known that there is a type of ant out there that builds their entire colony inside of an acorn. Or that there is a mission in the works to try to send humans within the next ten or so years to live permanently on Mars. Or that a company in France is developing Kevlar-toed socks that would presumably never wear out.

I can admit that most of the factoids he shares with me are interesting, and some of them really stick with me. But it's not often that I'm completely stopped in my tracks, as I was when he sent me the video I'm about to share. When science, and nature, and the mysteries of our world combine with visual beauty and majesty and sound, then I understand. Then I'm fascinated and transfixed and moved, in awe of this world we call home, amazed by the power of it all.

A supercell near Booker, Texas from Mike Olbinski on Vimeo.

I can't explain what causes a "supercell" like this to occur, as I know my husband can. And if I asked him to explain it to me I'm sure I would soon forget--my mind just doesn't absorb technical details like his does. But what I do know is that this is magical, and frightening, and so heartbreakingly beautiful. I see God in this, I see powerful forces that I can't possibly comprehend, I see fury and beauty tied up together in a way that brings tears to my eyes, and makes me realize how small each of us really are.

When science and art collide, I get it.

In All Things

Image Source

Pied Beauty

By Gerard Manley Hopkins

Glory be to God for dappled things –

   For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;

      For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;

Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;

   Landscape plotted and pieced – fold, fallow, and plough;

      And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;

   Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)

      With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;

He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:

                                Praise him.

My husband and I have been taking an English Literature class together this semester at a local community college. Well actually, he's taking the class, and I got special permission from the professor to audit it. The teacher is really fantastic and it's been a treat to sit in on the lectures and do the readings--and I'm not on the hook for grades or homework! It's just pure learning and brain stimulation for me.

We read some poetry this week by a fascinating man I'd never heard of, Gerard Manley Hopkins, a Jesuit priest who lived and wrote in Victorian England. Many of his poems are a celebration of the natural world and he had a way of seeing God in all things, even in things that most people would say are ugly or strange.

I think this poem, Pied Beauty, is so lovely. Glory be to God for dappled things, it says. Hopkins takes such joy in the unusual and imperfect and it seems that these things, for him, only reinforce the presence of God in the world.

This poem has reminded me to try to be more intentional about seeking God and noticing Him, even when the world around me seems plain or frustrating or unpleasant. Yesterday I stepped outside to take a walk and it immediately started to sprinkle, but I decided to keep walking. I decided to embrace the rain and try to enjoy getting wet and the cool drops on my face, and once I did that, I began to feel the beauty of it all. The sky was gray, the rain made the grass smell musky, and it was a far cry from the perfect afternoon stroll. But perhaps that's just a matter of perspective. The rain was God's rain, it was falling on God's earth, and it was falling on me, and I am nothing if not a child of God. If I decided to look at it this way, wouldn't that make it good?

Who am I to rule that this day, this moment, isn't just a wonderful as the next? For by Him were all things created...all things were created by Him, and for Him. Maybe in wading through dreariness, in soaking it in and embracing it and accepting it, we can find good in it--we can find God in it. Holding it at arm's length is what makes it ugly.