A space of one's own and learning to love the little things

There are many days I bemoan the limited outdoor space we have to ourselves. Like many city dwellers, a small deck outside our kitchen is all we can claim as our own. I sit here at my parents' place in Missouri, envious of the open space that is their yard, especially as I watch my sons frolicking (yes, that must be the word) in the grass as if they have never had such an opportunity. Granted, we do live just four blocks from a lovely little beach on Lake Michigan, and our access to playgrounds and playlots gives my Missouri friends pause. But we can't help but long for the day we are able to have a space of one's own to play, to plant, to just plain live within.

But then I think again. During the last few years prior to the birth of my second child, I spent my career designing trade magazines for civil and structural engineers. One of the things I enjoyed most about the work was the not-so-simple challenge of being creative within the boundaries of space and expectation. Like so many trade magazines, one is fighting against the necessary advertising allocations and, obviously, the content itself, so the ability to splash beautiful images and large inviting typefaces, with enough white space to give breath to the words and pictures was generally not an option. I would page through design and art magazines at the nearest bookstore and drool at the audacity of photography spreads or wide-open fonts used solely for the purpose of introducing the article, not to mention those used later within the article themselves. We often would have two-to-three pages to introduce, use a few well-appropriated shots, and cram in the content and any graphs or supporting elements. And the paper we had to print on was not the stuff of legends. Even if we did have those awesome spread photographs, the paper would hardly do them justice. The odd thing is, I actually started to really love this game. We eventually got better paper, and my designers and I were able to re-conceive the design of the magazines to showcase more of the images and content. We kept things simple but, I hope, improved them overall.

This is not so different from our lovely little deck in north Chicago. We have yet to begin planting, as family circumstances have us away from home at this time, but we are excited to build our small garden with our herbs, tomatoes, a few peppers, flowers, perhaps more. Last year we got some woolly pockets, which we love, and this year we are even thinking of building a hanging wall garden from pallets such as this featured on Life on the Balcony. Our sons may not have a yard to play in now, but our choice to live in the city constantly gives them innumerable opportunities for exploration that few outside of a more urban setting can enjoy. I was recently reading an article in New York magazine called The Apartment: A History of Vertical Living, and I thought about an incident when, as a young child, I sat at the dinner table in southwest Missouri and announced to my parents that I would one day live in New York. I knew back then that I might just be more suited for the city life. I never have lived in New York, but Chicago has been home to me for thirteen years now, and I have only once had a bit of a yard outside our last six-flat apartment that I dared to claim as my own.

I am realizing, as I write this blog, that there is a reoccurring theme of making more out of less that swells beneath the current. I, by no means, claim to live the sort of simple life that I admire of so many, but I do value this sentiment above many others, even as I am tested by the weight of its reality. When I stomp my feet in frustration at my limitations, I at once am reminded of those friends of ours in Tokyo, New York, and elsewhere who make due with so much less than we, and the richness they enjoy without their cars or clutter.

And yet I do love these moments with all this open space. I hope my kids soak up every minute of it as I wave to them from the kitchen window. And when we return to Chicago, our little deck garden awaits our eager hands, as well as the wide open lake and urban space that is ours to inhabit, one walk at a time.

A tree grows in Chelsea

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