Is there any conceivable way that this house is not haunted? Is there a universe in which this house is not filled with moldering lace and wavering candle light and the sounds of things going bump in the night?

This house is on the extreme west side of Chicago on a side street just off of Austin. Dan and I discovered it in large part because we had also discovered a great ma&pa butchershop (though, truthfully, it's a bro&bro shop), called the Blue Ribbon Meat Market. The BRMM sells everything, makes their own sausage, will put turducken together for you, and its where I always buy my pork shoulder for pulled pork makin's. And an added benefit of the BRMM, is that there's this amazing street of old monster homes that's fun to take a little walk down as part of the trip.

But this house is the most unusual. . . and undeniably beautiful/really really creepy:



And I have to assume that the owners are okay with their house being super creepsville. . . or they probably wouldn't have bought two stone statues of actual sized people to flank the entryway to their home:

It Doesn't Look Like Much Yet. . .

But you just wait, the front of our house is going to look better in a month or two. And in 2-4 years, it's going to be the envy of the block!

But for now, it looks like this ("Hi!" to Dan waving from the back yard):


I have this terrible habit of imagining what a garden spot could look like in ten years, and then planting that garden immediately. That's not really how gardens work. Nevertheless, I imagined the northeast corner of our our lot being a shady, sun-dappled little glen--with a dwarf, gnarled, apple-tree as the center piece, with hostas and lily-of-the-valley growing blue and green and gold in its shade.

But the apple tree is a stick and won't be much more than that for another year or two. Regardless, with the image of a wooded glen in mind, last year, I immediately planted hostas and lily of the valley right up against the sidewalk--which is a pretty sunny place. Dumb.

So, I moved some things around today. I moved hostas back into the shade of the house--some lilies, too. And a huge rhubarb plant came with the house when we bought it. It was a giant monster in the backyard, and looking at it, I realized it's easily 6-7 rhubarb plants trapped in a tight spot growing on top of each other. So, I divided two off and have planted them in the front yard. They look sad right now, but they'll perk up! (fingers crossed!)


The neighbors have pretty tulips blooming in their front yard right now--the red with black center of poppies. . .


And the backyard got some love today, too. Dan cleared out old leaves and did some weeding. And I have filled loads of containers with new dirt and seeds. In a few weeks, I hope to see the start of hot pepper plants and nasturtiums and zucchini.

Oh, My Aching Back

I threw my back out this past winter and it's not quite back to its former self, but that didn't stop Dan and me from launching into our three year plan to completely overhaul the outside appearance of our home. Working on a little curb appeal, if you will. And I fear that I will have the stiffness to prove all of our hard work of today. . . tomorrow morning.

So, this is what the front of our dear bungalow looks like:


I can't wait until this is the "Before" picture. You can hardly see the sweet house for all the crazy plantings. The ridiculously out-sized trees that obscure the whole front of the house. The wedding veil bush on the far side in too small a space to be able to properly waterfall to the ground. The big round, nondescript bush to the right that is only of interest in the fall when it turns a deep burning red.

Meh. It all has to go. But it will take a lot of work to get that done. . . so we're moving slowly. A three year plan. This year, the dumb bush goes and we put loveliness in its place--loads of hostas, lily of the valley, and a tree of some sort. Don't know what yet. . .

But, man! That bush did not want to get out of there. Here's Dan being tough and taking that bush to town.


We worked for hours and then finally, our across-the-street-neighbor introduced himself--and his pick axe and sledgehammer--and gave that bush the final what for. Thanks, Ruben! We owe you one!


I know it looks thin and lame right now. . . but in a few years, its going to fill in and I hope look like a mix of cottage-y and forest glen-y.

And at least the back yard is simple and awesome. Herbs galore growing back and as always the huge Rhubarb. So, tonight I made a rhubarb/strawberry crisp from a recipe my Mama sent me.



Thanks, Ma! It's delicious. . . proving again and again why Mother's Day is so well deserved by the mothers in my family. Brilliant cooks, gardeners, thinkers all.