This year's show featured all the old standards: lush landscapes, colorful flowers, decks you could never afford, water features, and, my personal favorite, the tulip fields:
Something new I noticed this year, though, was the incorporation of miniature fairy gardens into the larger landscapes. I was so taken by them that I took this blurry photo of one:
Now, I was aware of the fairy garden phenomenon before, but it hadn't really interested me because I do not like the following:
I mean, I'm not against fairies, it's just that I've never been one who was interested in fantasy and whimsy and hanging out at Renaissance Faires and stuff. And as for gardening, for me it's just a big experiment to see how quickly plants can die.
But I do love miniature versions of things, and that's what attracted me to the fairy gardens. I decided I wanted to create my own. I had been looking for a craft to do, despite the fact that, to add to the list above, one more thing I do not like is:
I want to like crafts. I go to Michael's and see all the pretty stuff you could buy and create with, and I want to be that buyer and creator. I like the idea that crafts could be an outlet for my mental health issues. BUT, crafts stress me out. They create additional anxiety for me because I'm always obsessing about how ugly my craft is turning out.
I always say my only successful craft medium is words, and the trouble with words is that words have meaning. So it's not really an escape to craft with words, because they have pesky meanings that evoke, you know, emotions and stuff. Unless you want to write total fantasy, which, again, is probably better suited to fairy-loving Renaissance Faire employees.
But I decided to take a stab at a non-verbal craft and create my own fairy garden. Work was slow for awhile (#freelancelife), and I needed something constructive to do with my days. (I don't think my previous "worrying that my career is a total failure" activity could be called constructive.)
So, I set out to create a fairy garden. My first step was to check out some library books about fairy gardens.
The first book was clearly a legitimate resource because it had a forward written by an actual fairy. That fairy was Violet Greenpea Maydreams, Chief Scribe for the Garden Fairies at May Dreams Gardens. Violet explains that one controversy in fairy gardening is the debate over whether or not to include likenesses of fairies in the gardens. Some say little fairies enhance the garden, while others believe the garden should merely be a space that invites fairies in. Violet clearly comes down on the side of no fairies, even though the book itself has a picture with four fairies on the cover. I'm starting to think these fairies might not be the most consistent folk.
Anyway, it didn't matter because I decided I didn't really want to emphasize fairies at all in my garden, but rather just create a miniature landscape. You know, like designing my dream home, but one I could actually afford. (Though, as it turns out, crafting is only slightly more affordable than home construction.)
I also decided that using real plants in the garden would be a disaster. Besides my afore-mentioned talent for killing plants, we also don't have any windowsills in our house where the plants could get adequate sunlight. (And March in Chicago is not part of outdoor-growing season.) Any horizontal surface we do have would be frequented by cats, who would either eat the plants or mistake a box filled with sand for something else.
So basically I was creating a fairy-free miniature scene with artificial plants. In other words, the sort of diorama I complained about having to make in elementary school.
But this diorama wasn't going to feature Gabrielino Indians making acorn mush, nor would it be a miniature Mission San Juan Capistrano. It was going to be a tiny little scene of all the things I love most in the world.
I should also note that I was able to get Nathan on board with this project pretty easily. At first I figured we would build one scene together, but when the addition of Minecraft figurines was suggested, I decided we would each create our own scene.
So we went to Michael's. We bought approximately 95 items for our gardens. I told Bill to go wait out in the car while I checked out so he wouldn't see how much we were spending. (I always end up coming clean about these things, but I use the tactic where I start with a figure much higher so that when I get to the actual total it doesn't seem as bad. Unfortunately I'm a terrible liar and Bill was onto me.)
Then I went home and ordered some more supplies from Amazon.
Yesterday Nathan and I actually made the gardens. It was the kind of wonderful, screen-free, hands-on parenting activity you want to document on Facebook to make people think you do these kinds of things all the time.
Nathan was very concerned with scale. (So see, it was also a math lesson.) The dog house is in proportion to the real house, and every Minecraft animal could actually traverse that bridge. My garden, on the other hand, features a very large cat figurine (sitting at the front of the walkway) that wouldn't fit through the door of the house, suggesting a giant freak mutant cat.
Here are some other features of my garden:
|The beach, where somebody is reading a book. (Not me, because I only read on Kindle now.)|
|Kitty (not the freak mutant one) asleep in a flower garden.|