Wabi-Sabi Streetview: First Ward, Morgantown, WV

I ran across the term wabi-sabi recently, and it seemed to fit exactly with what I'm trying to do with my photos (my life?). It's all about appreciating beauty in the mundane or the imperfect. If you're interested in the idea, read more here.  My short summary: pay attention, notice what's about, appreciate what's here now. This post is the result of me walking my camera about on Sunday in my neighborhood (Not my phrase, "walk your camera," but I love it, and I'm gonna use it every chance I get. Thank you, Roger May.) 

It's a mixed neighborhood. Most people have chosen safe, neutral paint colors, and porch decor tends to be utilitarian. 

But I kept finding these little scenes that just made me laugh. Check out the view of the Dish. Or the little cherub-deer pairing below.

The light reflecting in these trash cans. The shadow of this crazy, hacked tree.

And the animals. Keeping us safe. The lions are fantastic, but this pink elephant? She takes the cake.

Beauty in Brown

I remember reading somewhere (or maybe it's just become part of our local lore) before moving to the Pacific Northwest that the Morgantown/Pittsburgh area actually has more cloudy days than rainy Washington and Oregon. It's hard to say if that's really true, but this map makes it seem like we're at least giving that area some good competition. One thing I know for sure, it gets really brown here in the winter when the leaves fall and the snow melts.

What I love about walking around with my camera is that it helps me notice the subtle texture and beauty that exists in the most common things--even at this relatively colorless time of year. 

And of course, all these boys need is some boots, a ball, and some woods, and they're good to go.

Give them some water to throw rocks in, and you're golden. This waterfall has been hiding virtually in our back yard (it's how the overflow from the reservoir in White Park drains to the Mon River), and I only just discovered it this winter. 

Makeover a Mailbox in an Afternoon

My friend Dani lives in a tiny, adorable house in my neighborhood, just on the other side of the park. I think her house has huge potential. This is her mailbox. We decided it could benefit from a little love. Remember last week when I wrote about the two feet of snow we got? Well, this weekend it warmed up enough to go outside in a t-shirt. And to do a little spray painting.

The mailbox was covered in rust, so the first step was to sand it down with some rough sandpaper. The numbers had been attached with a very sticky glue, so we used a putty knife to scrape off as much as we could. Then she applied a rusty metal primer.

Next, she applied a couple coats of glossy spray paint. We each had a couple cans of aqua leftover from other projects, so we used up the remainder of one can as the first coat and then switched to the other.

Dani ran out to Lowes and bought some replacement stick-on numbers so we could finish the project. Pretty good for an afternoon. It's going to add a nice spot of color to her front stoop.

This mailbox was in rough shape, so we did this pretty quickly without waiting a long time between coats. For a more perfect look, I think it would also be fun to start with a new smooth mailbox and add some modern letters or numbers using either stickers or stencils like this. But I love the idea of salvaging something old.

Stairways after a Snowstorm

It took a while for the promised snow to arrive on Friday. Everything closed early, and we were home and waiting a little after noon. But the real snow didn't start until late afternoon. Coban was ready with the shovel.

Two days later, the sun emerged. And so did the beautiful light and patterns.

I love how the wind formed the snow into soft curves.

Today I felt truly grateful for change. Sometimes, just when you think you've had enough of something, a new thing arrives to take its place.

Winter Respite: The Virgin Hemlock Forest

It's been a strange winter here, so I guess it's no surprise that we started our hike on Saturday in t-shirts. The Virgin Hemlock Trail is one of my favorites in any season--short enough that even slow-poke kids can do it, and with an enchanting other-worldly feel in parts, thanks to a large grove of hemlocks that's over 300 years old. 

In the summer you can walk through the creek to cool off. Saturday it reminded me so much of Oregon--the moss was so vibrantly green.

I love all the textures. We saw so many different varieties of lichen and moss (and this crazy spoor-filled puff ball above right).

My dad is a forester. He tried to teach Coban helpful things, like how you can identify a hemlock tree by turning the needles over to see if they have stripes on the back. Coban was much more interested in hooking the bungee cord he brought along to my Dad's belt loop or using it to haul logs he found along the trail. What can I say? He's 5.

I love how ice and water create such great compositions. If you haven't been, you should definitely check this trail out. It's also amazing in the snow.

Asheville vs. Morgantown: Why the difference?

In case it wasn't clear from the last post, there are three stand-out reasons to go to Asheville (in any season, really): the food, the beer, and the art. Thanks to the clean water flowing down from the mountains, there are two dozen breweries located there now, from local places with fairly small operations to the new east coast facility that Sierra Nevada just opened outside of town. Their tap room was packed at 3:30 on a Friday. We wondered who exactly this crowd was. Locals? Tourists? Despite being huge and obviously commercial, the space was nicely done, with a large stage out back for music. 

Everywhere we went, there was evidence of artistic influence--clearly there are many, many creative types there. Above is a letterpress shop owned by a former Bostonian in the River Arts District, where lots of artists working in various media make and sell their wares.  A painter we met told us artists began relocating there several years back when rent got too high in other parts of the city.

I loved the illustrations on the posters  below, as well as the lovely stick art surrounding the door of the shop above.

Downtown Asheville has its own art scene, such as the art gallery located in the old Woolworth's building, known as  Woolworth Walk. To be featured there, artists must live within a certain geographic area (I think 25 miles from the city?) and are selected by jury.

I went on this trip with the idea that I would try to discern what it is that this town has that others don't (ahem, Morgantown). In the back of my mind was the question--can we do it too? Is there some recipe we can follow to create our own version of Asheville? By the time we got to West Asheville, I began to think no. I'd already seen so much, and this part of town only had more. Murals, organic ice cream shops, cute boutiques. A honey shop, for heaven's sake.

If ever a place made me want to own my own food establishment, it was Biscuit Head. I love biscuits in a huge way, and theirs are huge, delicious, flaky--divine really.

And what did they do to top off with these perfect biscuits the size of a cat's head? They made their own inventive jams and butters. There must have been at least 30 spreads to choose from, from classics like raspberry jam to unique blends like amaretto peach. Seriously. Heaven.

The level of creativity, of entrepreneurship--it so vastly exceeds what we have going on in Morgantown right now, that I'm not sure it's possible to create that type of scene here any time soon. 

Having made my way through Jared Diamond's Guns, Germs, and Steel this month, I'm sensitive to how geography and both environmental and economic resources influence what happens in a place. Both Morgantown and Asheville are located in the mountains, have rivers running through and a fairly hilly topography, and are surrounded by relatively poor, rural areas. And of course the natural question is, why there and not here? What about that town allows artists and small independently-owned businesses to flourish while only a few seem to do really well here?

In addition to a larger population, one thing that Asheville has had both historically and in recent years is a serious influx of cash from investors and entrepreneurs. This is something that West Virginia has historically lacked, and that continues to this day. While there is quite a bit of growth and development happening in Morgantown right now, it doesn't have the same artistic flavor. Personally I think there's a real lack of appreciation for aesthetics in this town, and while we have more local restaurants and businesses than a lot of other West Virginia towns, only a few seem to genuinely thrive. And so in addition to a relative lack of resources, I think there may not be the interest here in creating such a place--at least not in the numbers needed to really make it happen.

Asheville's newspaper has done a series of articles about how the city has changed over the years. One interesting point they made is that while Asheville has experienced tremendous growth and is now a national tourist destination, it's become difficult for those holding the service jobs that cater to tourists to actually afford to live there. Or to make a real living on the wages they're paid. This is the kind of fact that brings me back to reality. Yes, that town looks amazing and inspiring and is so much fun to visit. But the homes are pricey and out of reach for many (not to mention we were told most good ones get swiped up before they even hit the market).

And with this, the lesson I've learned many times before rears its head again: every place has its positives and negatives. Not to mention the corresponding gem: Wherever you are, there you will be. (I try to keep this one in mind when I get off track thinking if only I lived __, my life would be so much more exciting!) As my friend said to me on our run this weekend, sometimes it seems really good to live in a place where everything isn't already perfect--because there your efforts can really make a difference. What do you think? Are we justifying here or speaking truth?

A Chicken Coop and a Well Site

Don't let these pictures fool you--I am not a fan of fowl of any kind, generally speaking. (I once hit a very scary rooster with a bucket because he wouldn't stop chasing me.) But I had to go into the field for work last week and was pleasantly surprised to find this flock of chickens along the way.

Perched on a hilltop above the Marcellus well site we visited in Wetzel County is an A-frame house where several well operators from Louisiana have been living. Just down the hill from the A-frame is a chicken coop that houses several chickens and three roosters. Apparently they can lay up to 20 eggs per day. These operators not only decided they wanted to keep chickens while living in WV, but they also put in a garden where they grew veggies this summer. I must admit I was surprised. They only live there temporarily and still go home every few weeks.

I've been wanting to photograph the drilling activity that is so pervasive in some parts of WV for a while, and I finally got that chance. Below is a view of the drill pad from right in front of the A-frame house. The surrounding area was amazing--a series of high ridges that sloped sharply on either side with very little flat land available.

I took these shots while wearing a bright orange hard hat (the steel-toed shoes came later). The wells on this pad have already been drilled and completed. Since the rig is long gone, it's quiet now, though I'm not sure how noisy it may be when the processors are running. 

Above is a wellhead, where the gas comes out of the ground. Below are water tanks that store the water that's extracted before the gas and oil go into the pipelines.

Above is a line of processing units, and below is a closer view from the back side. The gas passes through them and gets warmed so that the gas, water, and oil can be separated.

What struck me about this visit was the unexpected contrasts, the shades of gray. These wells are changing our landscape, literally and figuratively. They provide income and jobs for some people, and mar the bucolic views of others. But some of the men who've come here to tend them are the kind of people who will raise chickens and grow a garden even while they're away from home. Someone told me recently that people don't have good traits and bad traits--they have attributes. And that those attributes are either good or bad depending on the situation. I think it's crucial to be aware of the complexities here and to form opinions about this activity with a solid appreciation of the nuances. I guess the older I get, the more I see the gray. A choice that may have seemed so clearly "wrong" ten years ago I can now appreciate as one that allows someone to support a family or a way of life.

The Grit

With the recent gas boom and the corresponding decline in coal production in West Virginia, there's been a resurgence of talk about the effect extractive industries have had and continue to have on the State. About how companies that are based in other states come here to do business but then take their profits elsewhere. This trend is difficult for obvious reasons--people here benefit only so long as a particular company is willing to pay them to work, and the profits that the companies earn are largely not reinvested in the West Virginia economy (aside from the occasional goodwill grant to schools or support for local events).

Most disturbing to me though is the emotional toll this type of exchange takes on people. Some develop a seemingly unwarranted sense of loyalty to the companies--or at least the industry--they work for, despite what seems to be a clear preference for profit over people. Perhaps when you can't see any other options, you have to fight for what you know. But to my mind, this leaves the state in general in a sort of weak, underdog position, loyal to the hand that feeds it.

The Coalfield Development Corporation seems to be tackling this issue head on, and I'm hopeful that their approach will give some former coal workers their power back. They employ people living in southern West Virginia as construction workers for 33 hours a week, building local housing and disassembling existing structures to salvage materials and market them to high-end markets in cities around the U.S. Employees must attend 6 hours a week of local community college classes and participate in 3 hours of life skills training. This group is set to receive $600,000 from the U.S. EDA to support their work, and it's so encouraging to see that this type of effort not only exists, but is actually doing quite well.

Here in northern West Virginia there are far fewer coal mines, but the mark of industry is still pronounced. From my house in Morgantown I could see a large gas rig located across the river until recently (they must have completed the well), and surrounding that well are various other plants. While personally I wish this city could wrap its mind around and implement some zoning laws with actual teeth, there is something appealing to me about these industrial structures--old and new--the lights, the colors, and the sheer boldness. Apparently it's not just me: photographers Alexander Gronsky, Edward Burtynsky, and Eric Tomberlin have made strikingly beautiful work out of relatively mundane, common structures. 

Garden Diaries

first time growing dahlias!

final harvest

I had two main gardening goals this year: to put in a real veggie garden and to make good use of my herbs. I dug out a 4' x 8' plot of ground right in front of my driveway so there was absolutely no way I could forget about the plants once I put them in. (That visual did not prevent me from under-watering, however. Dammit.) I used the square-foot gardening method that allows you to pack a whole lot of plants into a small area, and I had some real success with tomatoes and green beans. Cilantro continues to be difficult and sickly, and my parsley seeds never even poked out of the ground. Is this me? The beets and carrots were great and tender, but I really should have staggered those in several plantings and done more. Next year I think I'll go a bit bigger and maybe come off the water now and then, but all in all, I'd say it was a success. Notwithstanding the saggy fence I constructed to keep the deer out--but hey, I built that thing all by myself!

end of season garden (slightly droopy fence removed)

As for herbs, I dried oregano, lavender, lemon balm, and mint and I used a whole lot more fresh herbs this year in cooking. And you know what has magical happy power? Zinnias. Those were by far the best thing that happened this season in the garden.

The good part about small towns

Cooke City, Montana

Confession: I’m in the midst of a Gilmore Girls obsession. I missed it the first time around, but I discovered Lauren Graham in Parenthood (fantastic show), and after a good friend said he liked the Gilmore Girls and thought I would too, I decided to check it out. And I basically haven’t watched anything else since. Of course there’s the obvious parallel with my life, seeing as how she’s a single mom and all, but that’s really where it stops. My fascination with it has to do with this small town thing they’ve got going.

I’ve wished many times in the past few years that I could move away, and Pittsburgh is the most realistic of the fantasy destinations. And while Pittsburgh is accessible and in no way huge, it's still a city, so I was quite surprised when I found myself fantasizing about moving to a small town while I was out west this summer. And the source of this fantasy was a really small town: Cooke City, Montana. It’s basically a stretch of buildings you drive through on the way to the Beartooth Highway as you’re leaving Yellowstone. I’m not sure why people would even drive through really, unless they lived in one of the tiny towns on the other side or just wanted to get a glimpse of that Pass (which is amazing and tundra-like and totally worth the trip if you’re ever in the area). The town has two bars and a convenience store, two small motels, and a couple restaurants. Some of the girls on the trip I was on had a bit of a toilet situation and couldn’t find a plunger, and when they went into the convenience store to ask if they could borrow one, the guy consulted a posted list of all the people in town and their phone numbers. Now that is small.

Anyway, what was the appeal of that town? What would I actually do there? I have no idea. It’s mostly about escaping with a truck and a dog and having only the strange people you meet to contend with. I conjured up scenes from Northern Exposure while I was there.

So to bring it back around, Gilmore Girls kind of plays into this small town fantasy. There are all these townspeople who know each other and love each other and annoy each other and are always doing something together or squabbling or gossiping—it just gives you the sense that they feel like they belong there and are a part of something. I’ve been wondering a lot lately why it is that some people stay or come back to where they grew up and feel content with that, while others have to get out and explore and find it trapping to stay in one place. I think being home gives some people the same sense of community and belonging that a religion can, or a tight ethnic community where everyone shares a common experience or sense of values.

All that to say, Morgantown is not so small that you know everyone’s business, Gilmore Girls-style, but it’s no city. And it does have quaint things that I enjoy, like downtown parades. Being able to walk to them and run through the cemetery (if you are 5) along the way is also a plus. Meeting up with a friend from kindergarten who you can grab candy with makes it even better. And I love that.

The eye shadow!