DIY Hanging Kitchen Herb Garden!

I love Spring!  And I really, really love DIY crafts!

No, seriously – I live on Pinterest.  I’m also poor on a very rigid college student budget so, if I can make it, I will not buy it [within reason].  I thought it’d be great to combine my love of DIY with my love for Spring (as well as the need for thriftiness) and share a fun project I completed last year.

Even though it has been documented that plants can evoke positive psychological and physiological responses in people, green spaces remain a luxury in the city.  Not only are potted herbs pretty, but they can also serve as delicious add-ons for meals that you can grow in just about any tiny, New York City  kitchen!  I can feel my mood lifting already!

Let’s get to it!

For this project I used:

• 4 wall hooks and screws sets from home improvement store, ~$2 each
• power drill and drill bit attachment to match hook screw heads
• pencil (to mark wall hook placement)
• measuring tape and/or leveler
• twine/jute
• hot glue gun + appropriate glue
• 4 key rings
• 4 wide-mouth 32 oz mason jars, blue
• 1 bag of potting soil
• bag of white rocks
• potted herbs (can use seeds instead)
• activated charcoal (optional)

I had most supplies on-hand and ready to go for this project.  After I gathered all materials, I got to work wrapping jute around the neck of each mason jar, tied a common knot, and dabbed a bead of glue to reinforce the knot.  I also affixed a key ring to the jute, knotted and dabbed a bead of glue to secure it in place as well.

Next, I decided on hook placement and marked it off with a pencil.  A leveler and tape measure came in handy in ensuring that all four jars were appropriately spaced to allow for plant growth from jars underneath.  I dug out my trusty power drill and got to fixin’!  I drilled two screws into each hook and with that maneuver, they were able to hold the weight of the empty jars.  It was time to test key ring stability.

DIY Fan: Curtains I made served as a pretty backdrop while I tested wall hook stability with empty mason jars.

I filled one of the jars with white rocks to stand out against the blue glass.  Adding rocks to the base will promote drainage and keep plants from getting water-logged.  Next, I filled the jar with some activated charcoal.  Activated charcoal serves to keep mold and bacteria from building up in the pot, but it’s entirely optional.  I had activated charcoal left over from unused fish tank filters and decided to give it a second life in this project.  (Reduce, reuse, recycle!)  Lastly, I filled the jar with potting soil, leaving the jar about a third empty from the top.

I hung this jar on one wall hook with success.  The wall hook, key ring, and jute withstood the weight of the glass mason jar plus added materials.  I tested the rest of the wall hooks and was met with success.  I was ready to go!

I filled the other three mason jars with rocks, activated charcoal, and potting soil.  Now, the fun (re: messy) part!  I transplanted store-bought, potted herbs to their new homes, being extra careful with their roots, and topped off the jars with extra potting soil.  I situated each jar on its individual hook, right above the kitchen sink.

I was initially aware that my kitchen window does not receive much sunlight. I set out to implement a decorative system that would allow the potted plants to be portable and set back in their places after soaking up some sun near a well-lit window.  This, though not the most practical, actually worked out for some time.

Pretty Hanging Kitchen Herb Garden.

One year later and the jars, jute, and key rings are still holding strong!  No falling mishaps!  Sadly, I transplanted herbs that were the last of the season, so they didn’t last as long as they would have had I purchased them much sooner.  This year, I’m looking forward to adding strategically placed grow lights, extending the layer of white rocks to increase drainage and transplanting Greek oregano along with parsley, basil, coriander/cilantro, or maybe mint, for those lemonade and mojito Summer nights!

The best part about growing your own herb garden at home? Cooking with fresh herbs on demand, of course!

Chicken Tikka Masala and Basmati Rice garnished with fresh herbs.

Teaching Preschoolers: Life Lessons Learned.

When I initially began working as an educator in a preschool setting, I never imagined I would learn so many lessons on love, resilience, and gratitude.

No one is as honest and unabashed as a preschooler.  There’s this clumsy, energetic art in everything they do.

My preschoolers were 3-foot-tall beings who survived almost exclusively on raw emotion and fruit snacks.  They existed in their truest forms; they were the most open and genuine human beings I have ever encountered.

My preschoolers were fascinated by the minute things in life.  They were excited to gift me freshly picked flowers (and weeds).  They were excited to draw pictures and leave their art in my classroom “mailbox.”  They were excited about creatures and things big and small – real and imagined.  It was through them I learned to cherish the “simplest” of moments.  It was through them I learned to slow down and take in my surroundings and appreciate the littlest things, wherever I might be.

Class Pet: Students found an ant friend living in the classroom crayon bin. How silly! We later released our ant buddy into its natural habitat.

My preschoolers taught me the true importance of politeness and courtesy.  As adults with adult responsibilities, it is easy to succumb to living and operating on auto-pilot.  During a typical morning rush, I’d pay a habitually forced, “Good morning” to a local deli clerk while digging in my bag for loose change, scurrying out to meet the time-sensitive demands of public transit well before he had the true chance to respond.  My preschoolers were living examples of how a smile and enthusiastic hug in the morning goes a long way in transforming a seemingly crummy, rudimentary day into an intentional one.  While I don’t have any plans to release oxytocin by hugging my local store clerk, I’ve made it my business to properly and politely greet him.  In doing so, I learned that he is a Yemeni immigrant who keeps pictures of his two beautiful daughters in his wallet. There is a big, beautiful world outside of our commutes and outside of our own heads.

“I made you!” Clay sculpture made in my likeness, glasses and all!

My preschoolers served as comedians, showing me the importance of maintaining a sense of humor and making time to be silly.  One of my students once looked terrified after spilling milk “on accident.”  Without skipping a beat, his observant peer noted that the spilled blotch of milk “looks like a pig!” Worry was met with positive reassurance, laughter, ample opportunities for connection with others, and socio-emotional growth.  We were often brought together and were able to overcome tense situations as a class through shared moments of laughter.

My preschoolers served as humanitarians.  As touched on above, students often held space for one another with and without educator lead intervention. I would often observe students consoling their classmates in times of need completely on their own.  Scraped knees on the playground were met with pats on the back and, “Don’t worry. You’ll be okay.  Your mommy will be here soon.”  In this particular scenario, students demonstrated the significance of considering others’ emotional states and consoling those in need when appropriate, and through their actions, they indirectly modeled this behavior to the rest of their peers.

Preschoolers prepare toy dolls for their “baths” during Dramatic Play.

My preschoolers served as little philosophers; their inquisitive nature prompted them to question everything.  I appreciated and admired their echoes of “Why?” As adults, we are more inclined to accept what we hear and what we are presented, especially within the realms of health and politics. They reminded me to question and think critically with regard to what I am shown.

My preschoolers served as motivators for pursuing my dreams.  Their brazen demeanors taught me to stand by my aspirations even if, at times, that would mean standing alone.  They played a pivotal role in my decision to quit pivot my career as an educator to pursue studies in my calling: Speech-Language Pathology.

Yummy graham cracker traffic light.

Still, most notably, my preschoolers took up space.  They lived as their truest selves and served as proof we all possess innate qualities to be whomever/whatever we want to be. There is only one of you and the world is made beautiful because you are in it – show up as *You*.

These children will most likely forget me as they age, but they were the true educators.  I may have taught them letters, numbers, how to use scissors, and how to open their milk cartons, but their influences on the lens with which I experience life and interconnect with others will always resonate with me.

Cultural Facets of Passing: How Loved Ones Are Kept Alive, Long After Death.

The month of February is bittersweet.  It is a month of rejoicing in love and friendship, but it is also the month I lost my paternal grandmother, a decade ago.  It was a difficult experience, but one that reverberated and branched out into a surplus of realizations thereafter.

Though my grandmother drew her last breath all those years ago, it has become a family tradition to visit her site of burial on the anniversary of her departure.  Homage is tenured through an endowment of flowers left at her headstone as well as participation in informal, yet synchronized remembrance and reflections in silence.

My siblings and I take turns exchanging memories, spinning hypotheticals:

“I miss the way she said my name.”

“Can you imagine her using one of today’s smartphones?”

“Would she be proud of me?” “Of us?”

Having served as the mainspring of our family, these subtle practices are effectuated to keep my grandmother’s essence alive.

The heavy, initial mourning stages of her corporeal exit have subsided with each passing year, however, I am not so certain that the grief felt is ever really more than intensely subdued.

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It had rained the day I visited an inner city, Roman Catholic cemetery in New York City. It was brisk; the sky was still overcast – residual of earlier cloudbursts that moistened the earth, still spongy beneath my feet.  Headstones and mausoleums were freshly adorned with gently fallen droplets of rain.  In this condition, everything, time included, stood remarkably still in a city timestamped with the infamous New York Minute.  Although New York City is a domicile to sprightly melanges of folks, this locus of communal, eternal rest lay situated in a neighborhood of residents who are of predominantly Christian denomination.  I mention this because I’d never stopped to marvel at the artifacts meticulously left behind for loved ones until this visit.

What I observed took me aback.

Hope: A statute of an angel sits atop a headstone in an inner-city cemetery in New York City, New York, US.

On inspection, I was awe-struck to find the assemblage of palpable tchotchkes left to commemorate the departed were not all but mostly comprised of pious trinkets.  The abundance of symbolism chockablock in these mementos made it apparent that people actively made the pilgrimage to the memorial park at various times during the year, supplementary to their loved one’s anniversary of passing. Halloween visitations were marked by a friendly ghost decoration here, a jack-o-lantern there.  A plaque embellished with an etched cartouche banner acted as a backrest for a sun-bleached, plastic toy rabbit and assorted pastel eggs, nestled unwaveringly in well-manicured grass –  Remnants of an Easter passed. Ongoing occasions and accolades, such as graduations, were promulgated by tangible imagery of etiolated commencement caps and faux diplomas.

A near-empty, bottle of distilled spirits sat at the foot of a neighboring headstone; a gift ribbon adorned its glass neck and trailed to a deflated occasion balloon. In the absence of context, the symbolism of each token as it related to each respective perished could be only loosely deciphered and interpreted through the subjective lens with which I perceived it; even so, each object left behind unambiguously served as a micro testament to their persistent influence and impact on their beloved upon departure.

In this locale, the past, present, and future no longer seemed to bear immediate distinction and instead existed coevally. Crosses; angels; inscribed psalms; pinwheels; flags of various nations; photos; a toy car; dioramas; love notes and poems written by children, spouses, and friends; a miniature terrarium – all of these articles provided snippets of individuals – those who were once deeply embedded in society and, in their unique way, remain ongoing.

Happy Birthday: Artifacts left to acknowledge a special event.

Most societal groups on Earth take part in unique cultural enactments to memorialize the deceased.  In Korea, millions of people convene to honor their ancestors during a holiday known as Chuseok.  Chuseok takes place over the course of three days every year to commemorate those who have passed as well as the living.  People gather in ancestral hometowns to clean tombs, pray, and present palatable offerings.*

In Eastern Indonesia, when it comes to keeping the exanimate alive after death, the Toraja people of Tana Toraja, employ a stunning literal ritual approach – the demised are clothed, fed, and taken to special gatherings and ceremonies as though they were still very much animate.**

Headstone Art in an inner-city cemetery, New York City, New York, US.

In Western society, the discussion of death in any capacity – philosophical or legal – is oft met with discomfort and avoidance. However, there is beauty and art even in passing.  The idiosyncratic traditions spanning across world cultures, founded specifically to honor those who have perished are unequivocally indicative of the human experience; as a deponent to the silent tributes intended for personages who once teemed with vigor, I began to view death as less of a foreboding theme and more of a motif. By examining how people all over the globe cope with inevitable passing, we can begin to appreciate parallels in customs [and mechanisms for coping] that are strikingly similar to our own.

Traditions meant to immortalize those who have transcended universally bind all people; we are all fluent in the language of loss, suffering, and resurrection through the actions of the living.  Storytelling, customs, methodically placed reliquaries, passing down of names/surnames, mass communal events, and so on; these innately and entirely human behavioral applications keep us alive, long after we are gone.

Curiously enough, in return, my grandmother continues to furnish gifts of insight 10 years after our last physical embrace.

“The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.” – Marcus Tullius Cicero

Sources: http://english.visitkorea.or.kr/enu/ATR/SI_EN_3_6.jsp?cid=811650*

http://ideas.ted.com/11-fascinating-funeral-traditions-from-around-the-globe/**