A World In Miniature

Terrarium workshop @ Terrain

I don’t know what it is about things in miniature that makes me feel all warm inside, but I cannot deny the extreme adorable factor of all things tiny. I love babies and kittens and teeny buttons and all manner of other doodads. The thought of creating a miniature garden ecosystem under glass seemed like a ridiculous amount of fun; the same kind of fun I used to have arranging my PlayMobile dollhouse and its inhabitants as a child.

This weekend, A. and I delved into the newly popular world of terrariums. Terrain at Styer’s has been hosting a record number of their very popular terrarium workshops and we were eager to learn how one can plant, grow, and maintain an entire body of living organisms within a container with minimal effort. The concept of bringing nature inside really appeals to me now that we’re almost mid-winter and I am continually trudging through snow drifts. Creating a terrarium feels like a meditative process as I consider the aesthetic of my design. The fluid motion of the glass vessel; the texture, color, shape, and height of the plants; the rich, loamy smell of the soil…all of these are things I considered as I set about creating a miniature wonderland. It feels wonderful to be under the bright sun streaming through the greenhouse windows on a cold, January day working my hands in dirt and remembering that there are monumental, natural changes occurring beneath all that snow.

Compared to some of the other workshop participants, and A.s spectacular example, my terrarium is rather minimalist with a wide, flat-leafed Strawberry Begonia, cheeky pink Joseph’s coat, a creeping bit of Baby’s Tears, and a strikingly red striped specimen that I cannot name. A layer of deep green moss holds the soil and creates a lush carpet should I ever decide to add a gnome for a hint of whimsy. I added a few smooth pebbles that turn a lovely shade of turquoise when wet and some porcupine quills that I acquired in South Africa for visual interest. I love how the slender, striped shape of the quills are reminiscent of bare trees in winter.

My creation is now happily at home on my desk where it can bask in the diffuse winter light and remind me that spring is, indeed, coming.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Slow Lane

I don’t believe in running.

I would sooner take a hammer to my knees and hips.

I believe in walking and slowing down enough to absorb my surroundings.

I don’t believe in racing past the all of the nuances that nature has to offer. I like when the only sounds are the crunch of gravel, the beating of a heart, the sigh of breath. I don’t put headphones in my ears because there is no music better suited to walking in the woods than bird calls and the whoosh of a chipmunk scurrying through the underbrush.

I don’t believe in being fast. Running seems to be about getting it over with, making it from point A to point B without taking any time to notice what is in between. Everyone is running these days. Entering a marathon is de rigueur for anyone wanting to prove they aren’t a couch potato. In social circles, people mention that they’re a “runner” as if it will afford them some sort of clout in a world obsessed with waist sizes.

I don’t believe in going farther faster. I like walking with a dog. Dogs enjoy life and nature and a good walk with such abandon. Everything is cause for celebration, a reason to stop and sniff. There are few things as wonderful as reaching the peak of the trail to look out between the trees to see a view you’ve never contemplated before. In the midst of the dense green, with no one around but me and my yellow lab, I spotted a bird I’d never seen before – a tiny scarlet body, scarlet like the color of blood from an artery, with black wings. A creature you can only notice in the quiet of a forest when you’re walking slowly.