Warm Boots, Cold Snow

I set out on a loose photo-taking mission on Sunday and ended up in Point Marion, Pennsylvania. Really, I just followed the smoke from the power plant. (Steam? It might be steam.) There's something about the drama of that smoke (steam): the ugly reality of modern civilization writ large.

Point Marion is a tired little town that I first discovered in college when we used to buy kegs of Yuengling from the loading dock of a distributor (back in the day when I thought Yuengling was good beer and you could only buy it in PA). The town's real claim to fame, and the reason you might and should go there today, is Apple Annie's. Hands down the best apple dumpling I've ever had. And a literal buffet of towering homemade cakes to choose from. Sadly, not open on Sundays. I'll go back and return with pictures of those cakes another time.

The other somewhat surprising thing to see in Point Marion is the Albert Gallatin House (officially, the Friendship Hill National Historic Site). There's parking at the entrance, and apparently a nature trail of some sort to explore, but it was cold. Very cold. Luckily, I had my new boots. (Rated to -25. Thank you Sorel.) I took a few shots before my hands went numb. (I'm pretty sure I could not actually survive in Canada. Unless there are super secret magical gloves that prevent numbness. My new ones are inadequate.)

I'm not much of a history buff, but I was curious and drove up to the actual house. To my surprise it was open on a Sunday, and you're allowed to tour around inside. The lady who gave me the cliff notes story of Albert Gallatin was impressed I even knew who he was. The only reason is that he made his way to Montana at some point and both the Gallatin River and a mountain range near Bozeman where I used to live are named after him.

I like the texture on this sculpture.

The house was rather modest inside, though with pretty marble fireplaces and this rather dramatic winding staircase. 

This is the view from behind the house. It's still set back in the woods all alone, but the smoke brings you back to reality.

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.

Art in the City

At some point last year I woke up and realized that there is art--really good art--available very, very close to us. As in, Pittsburgh. And I vowed to see more of what's going on at the Carnegie Museum of Art. Right now there's a great Peter Muller-Munk exhibit that features beautiful silver pieces, as well as purely functional but oh-so-well designed items like vacuums. And power tools.

I loved the pots and the stove displayed in this exhibit. The aesthetic reminds me of the very cute Smeg refrigerator that's popular in design circles right now (including certain hotels in Austin), a throw back to the old retro versions.

Can you imagine the fun of vacuuming with these hot little numbers? I can see how the 50's housewives may have been suckered . . .

Above are two different razors--one for underarms and one for legs. Such marketing skills!

I even enjoy the standard features of this museum, such as the courtyard below at the back entrance and the line-up of waterfalls at the front. They're also featuring a really nice modern collection of art from Jane Haskell's personal collection right now. I didn't take pics for fear of admonishment by museum staff, but it's very much worth seeing.

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.

Toronto!

I had some extra time this month, and I really (really) wanted to go some place I'd never been before. In fact, I had Toronto in mind. For some reason I'd never been (except once in the airport, which doesn't count), despite the fact that it's only about 6 hours from Morgantown. I felt pretty lucky when my friend wrote and asked me when we were going to go on a girls' trip, and she was willing and excited to try Toronto. We drove up a couple days after Christmas. We stayed downtown, where we saw some great architecture. I was surprised by the throngs of people out and about on Sunday afternoon. It felt like Manhattan.

We walked through Chinatown on our way to Kensington Market, and it smelled delicious. Not to mention the crazy sites--I definitely think my favorite was the plastic food.

My friend recommended Kensington Market to me, and it did not disappoint (though no pictures here--it was too dark). There were an astonishing number of interesting shops, bars, and restaurants, as well as fruit and veggie markets that reminded me of ones I saw in Israel. We saw streets filled with adorable gingerbread Victorians, and there were murals and fantastic graffiti everywhere. We were there a bit late and lots of things were closed, so I definitely need to return on another visit in the daytime and fully explore there.

For fear of data roaming charges, I ended up not having access to google maps much of the time. That left us using a paper map to get around, which didn't contain a lot of smaller streets. On our way to the Distillery District we took a wrong turn and ended up in the Financial District downtown. The starkness of the buildings was impressive and interesting though, so we didn't mind. But it was cold. The wind. Don't forget to account for the wind. On the other hand, while we stood looking at our map, a man came up and asked if we needed help, and then gave us directions. Those Canadians have a good reputation for a reason.

Above is a street close to St. Lawrence Market, which we tried to see, but it was closed on Monday. (Another thing for next time.) From there we made our way to the Distillery District, a charming cobble-stoned area with so many cute shops and restaurants. It's also home to Mill Street Brewery, which had a beer garden that looked lovely for a warmer time. We had a beer inside, of course, along with the most delicious edamame I've ever had. It came with a lovely sweet/hot sauce that was unexpected and quite impressive.

Is this not the cutest little courtyard? I love the decor so much. There was also a stylish fire pit in the middle.

The area beyond this sign was an ice rink not far from our hotel. We were pretty happy to see it again after walking through some fairly extreme ice and snow. It was in fact so intense that at one point we laughed hysterically--and yet, we both thought it was pretty fun. What an adventure. And, I felt like I truly experienced the Canada from my favorite childhood novel (set in Montreal), Calico Captive.

We ended with a visit to Sweet Jesus. We were too early for their super fancy soft serve, but I got an eggnog topped with Earl Grey whipped cream, walnuts, fried sweet potatoes, and a strip of fried ginger. Oh my. Mindy had an espresso topped with charred marshmallows. She ate the rim of graham cracker crust for several miles as we drove with not an ounce of shame.

I feel like we only scratched the surface of this city, and I can't wait to go back.

Project 35: A Year of Photos

I've been thinking about new goals as the new year approaches, but I'm also trying to really appreciate the things I accomplished this year. I turned 35 in January, and for some reason this birthday really hit me. While I don't feel particularly old, I feel like I am undoubtedly of "mom age." So, to celebrate, cope, etc., I devised a photo project for myself to commemorate the year.

Called Project 35, the idea was to end the year with four sets of 35 photos taken within 3.5 miles from my house, within 35, within 350, and within 3500 miles. I framed this project rather loosely, with the idea that I wanted to notice and appreciate what was right around me. It definitely got me out exploring a lot of small towns around here and gave me that extra bit of purpose I needed when I set out with my camera. (This is the bane of my existence, needing a purpose behind everything.)

Halfway through the project, I took a fantastic photo class called the Jackson Hole Photography Workshop, taught by Michael Sherwin from WVU and John Holmgren from Franklin and Marshall. It had been years since I'd been to Jackson Hole, and I hadn't been back out west since leaving Montana in 2007. While there this time around, I had the distinct feeling of being in the right place at the right time, something I must admit I haven't felt a lot lately. I was so excited to be learning from photographers who are also fine artists, alongside other people who were as psyched as me to be sent outside with their cameras in amazingly beautiful settings.  

This was a college class, and since I was one of four non-traditional students, I often got dibs on sitting in the front of the van with Michael or riding with John in his pickup truck. I talked to John a lot about his work and how he created projects for himself (be sure check out his stuff--he does some really interesting mixed media pieces of the man camps in North Dakota, as well as some great work in the arctic). I told him about Project 35, and his comment was this: Just finish it. Whatever you do, just complete the project. So I did. 

You can check out all four sets on my Flickr site. I've organized them chronologically within each album so the progress will be apparent. If there's one thing the photo workshop did for me, it was to give me a more critical eye. Suddenly I began to see technical problems I'd completely missed before, and it was surprisingly difficult to find 20 good images for the final portfolio, despite having taken hundreds, if not thousands, during that week. That said, I don't hold these groups of 35 photos out as being fantastic, because I can see lots of flaws, but more as an example of one way to move forward while trying to develop a skill.

Since taking up photography more seriously about two years ago, I've wondered exactly what my style is and how to make my work hang together. This project has been really helpful because some themes and commonalities have emerged.  

Do you see any trends? Anything worth pursuing further? As you'd expect, the new year needs a new project.

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?

Reasons to Visit Asheville in the Winter

It's not often that I'm able to say yes to going somewhere cool for the weekend, so when my friend asked if I wanted to go to Asheville to help her find a place to live, I was pretty psyched to be able to say yes. I hadn't been since college, and things have changed. "The people" are raving about this town for a reason. There was an almost overwhelming number of cool and interesting things going on, not the least of which was the beer scene.

Our first stop was Wicked Weed, where I had the Pernicious IPA (the lighter colored one above), and Ashley had the Tyranny. Amazingly delicious, and served in a very cool atmosphere--trendy yet earthy. One thing that struck me on this visit is that there appear to be some very good iron workers (people doing iron work?) in Asheville. We saw large pieces of metal that could have been used in the floor of a workshop re-purposed as asymmetrical shutters and custom arced bar stool tables with metal frames and wooden tops at Hi Wire, where they also had some amazingly huge lanterns (perhaps 10 feet wide?), as well as a delicious Pale Ale (but they're apparently known for their lagers).

Dinner the first night was at White Duck Taco Shop. I am a lover of tacos, and we don't get a lot of good ones in West Virginia. (Though to give credit where credit's due, Charleston's Black Sheep does count.)

The ones at White Duck did not disappoint. Below on the right is the fish. On the left are mushroom potato and the Goucho (I think), which was filled with tostones and chimichurri. All three were fantastic, but to my surprise, the star was the mushroom potato. It was so perfectly seasoned, and the textures were amazing. The margarita was also spot on.

Last stop on Friday was at Green Man Brewery, where they allow doggies in the tap room and serve a nice Pale Ale.

I took a whole lot of pics, so there's more to come.

House Tour: Nick and Michele's Complete Reno

Because Nick and Michele bought this house as a foreclosure, they were able to get a special construction loan that allowed them to completely gut the insides and start fresh, albeit on a fairly tight time-table. They took down walls, hung barn-style doors to separate spaces, and inserted closets (and even a bathroom under the stairs) where none had been before. The outside got painted just recently, and the landscaping out front was completed the day before Porchfest. 

Nick made the giant prints hanging in the dining room and framed them using reclaimed floor boards taken from old houses around town. (For a while he and a friend sold mirrors framed in reclaimed wood, until the wood stash ran out.)

Michele got this Buddha lamp at an antique shop in Five Points.

The windows are original, but the laminate floor (which is beautiful and does not look like laminate to me), the molding, and all the paint and fixtures are new. 

Michele used spray paint to unify this collection of jars-turned-candle-holders, using her favorite Little Bo Peep bottle as the centerpiece. 

Yara followed me the whole time I was photographing. The piece above her is of Starlight, a bar that used to be in Jacksonville's Five Points area (where we naturally spent some time sampling at least a couple craft beers at fine establishments such as this).

Carlos, looking so sweet and innocent . . . 

This kitchen is fully equipped for a chef. And let me tell you, Nick does not let it go to waste.

Michele's responsible for painting a lot of the furniture and arranging all the little vignettes. Nick made quite a bit of the artwork, including the painted skulls.

The whole family: Carlos above, Yara below, and the people in charge (ha!) are Michele and Nick.

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.