Let there be life!

By July the organic garden was doing fairly well. It wasn't easy getting there, though.

This is one of the larger harvests of the month. Humble beginnings!

The weather gods are against me. Days of 90+ degree heat have been intermittent with deluges. The soil started to erode in the frequent downpours, exposing some plants' roots along the perimeters of the rows. I hadn't amended the soil properly beforehand so what wasn't eroding near the edges began to form puddles near the middle. It was a hot mess.

I knew this would happen, to an extent. Georgia's clay is horrible with water management but in my haste to get the garden started I figured it would be okay for the first season. (My mother had a beautiful flower and shrub garden. Veggies couldn't be that different, right? Wrong.)

As a short term solution, I bought topsoil and added it to the rows. The chunky little bits of wood slowed the erosion and minimized the puddles at the surface. The added soil also covered the exposed roots. Once the weather became a bit more merciful, I added liquid fertilizers and diligently applied insecticidal soaps to fend off critters that tried to take advantage of the fragile plants. Shame on them!

Slowest. Change. Ever.

The quick-fixes worked long enough to let the batch of plants produce some promising fruit. The Bonnie Patio Tomatoes--so named because the plants only grow 3 feet tall and can fit in a patio container--were the first ready to harvest. Our tomatoes are DELICIOUS and they're still giving fruit now at the tail end of August.

The Bonnie Red Bell Pepper and Bonnie Yellow Bell Pepper plants consistently bare large fruit (5+" long and about 6+" in diameter) but they take weeks to change color since they aren't getting as much sunlight as they should.  When they finally change, they are very flavorful and I love their brilliant colors. So delicious and lovely, in fact, that I refuse to cook them. We only eat them fresh so we get the full enjoyment of the nutrients and color.

Next, the Sweet N' Neat Cherry Tomatoes by Park Seed that I started from seeds began to mature. They produce the cutest little cherry tomatoes and I get 10-20 per week. I slice them in half and pop them over salads and omelets.

The herbs were most difficult to grow outdoors, surprisingly, but I'm not sure why. First problem: Georgia heat can be a beast. Second problem: the seeds are by Weeks Seed Company, a small business without a very strong reputation. Third problem: they seeds were stored at this local nursery. Only God knows how old they might've been. So many of the seeds were duds.

Nom nom cherry tomatoes!

I did manage to get some decent chives and parsley out of the bunch. The basil hasn't matured yet (my fourth try) and the cilantro hasn't gotten beyond a few small leaves and scrawny stalks. I know better what to do when the cooler months arrive.

My Sweet Rainbow Blend Peppers and Cayenne Blend Peppers, both grown by seeds from Park Seed, will be the last to mature. I know Alejandro is excited about the homegrown cayenne and I personally can't wait to add the multicolor peppers to some sort of sautee or stir fry. More to come!

Giving organic gardening a try

During my time in the Peace Corps I learned a bit about gardening. It was mainly from my neighbor--whose name escapes me after three years--but she was a senora with a heart of gold. She maintained an immaculate, quaint garden and her husband herded a few cattle and horses. Aside from Jesus, they were probably the best human beings ever created.

There was something about the peace of their household and the contentment on their faces each day as they settled down to a homegrown meal...I'm convinced that there was something to this gardening thing. Health was a clear benefit. They were pushing 90, quick as whips, more fit than 90% of the folks at my LAFitness, and aside from a few smile lines you couldn't tell that they were ancient.

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Years later, with my own little house in the burbs and two acres of land, I've got a chance to try my hand at gardening. At the tail end of March, after several late frost, I realized that I has already lost precious time.

My husband jumped into overdrive. We selected  a plot of land on the side of our house that is about 20x20. It's elevated on three sides, like a giant raised bed, supported by retention walls made of railroad ties. (It was part of a gift from my father-in-law and fiancee at the time because they knew I wanted a garden.) Georgia clay sucks, so I took a shovel and turned over the dirt at least a foot deep throughout the entire area. Then we rented a tiller to loosen the soil even more. Finally, we made three rows about 4 feet wide with 1.5 foot aisles in between.

It's not the perfect spot but it is the most perfect spot that we had available. The plot rests at the bottom of a hill so water sometimes drains down. We drilled holes in the retention wall and lined the area in the back corner with stones so that the water could drain out.

The space gets about 4 hours of direct sun and the rest of the time it's partly shaded. Again, not ideal, but it was the clearest space near the house and we didn't want to cut down and uproot lots of trees.

So...we had our garden. It wasn't until the beginning of April that I put down the first few transplants that I purchased at Home Depot: 3 determinate Bonnie tomato plants, 2 red and 1 yellow bellpepper plants also by Bonnie. They made the space feel more authentic while I waited for my seeds to germinate in the soil. Not knowing how quickly spring would turn into scorching summer, I planted lettuce, spinach, and chives. I also planted red cabbage and collard greens.

Just as the first leaves of lettuce and spinach began to peak above the soil, the weather changed rapidly. Two weeks of intense heat were followed by a flash flood that caught the entire county by surprise. The newly sprouting veggies didn't stand a chance. The one row of lettuce that did make it through the deluge fried in the sun the next day. The transplants and a few heads of cabbage were the only survivors.

I had another batch of seeds germinating indoors so I was able to pull out the goners and replace them with some plants that might stand a chance. I also sowed a few more seeds directly into the ground.

Only time would tell.

Meteor Crater aka Could've Been the End of Us All

Me, fighting the wind, at the top observation deck.

After leaving the Petrified National Forest and Painted Desert, we took I-40 south towards the Meteor Crater, also known as Barringer Crater. It’s an uneventful drive, to be honest, dotted with cheap tourist traps and sleepy towns. (“What’s with the all the freakin’ dinosaur statues?” My fiancé was nearly pulling his hair out at the sight of them by the end of the drive.) Once you turn to Meteor Crater Drive, there is another long stretch through the flat lands that are accentuated by round signs that pop up from the terrain advertising the park, facts about the meteor, and other fun desert weirdness.

The rim of the crater rises about 15 stories from the landscape, broad and flat like a natural plateau. The entrances to the lookout points and museum require an ascent (via stairs or an elevator) of about two stories. Even with the guardrails I was afraid of losing my balance and tumbling into the crater somehow; my small frame wasn’t much against the storm winds blowing in from the south. I clung to the handrails and made my way towards the top of the lookout point. The storm cell’s ominous clouds serve as a backdrop to all of our photos.

Full view of the crater, from museum doorway.

The view is breathtaking. The massive crater—two miles around, one mile across, and over 500 feet deep—burrows into the earth with an eerie beauty. When it landed, it would have killed everyone and everything for miles but now it’s harmless and awe inspiring. Though it’s hard to tell from the observation deck, the crater isn’t quite round. The edges are quite squared, which is more easily seen in an aerial view; some believe these corners is due to jointing in the strata.

In the depths of the crater are an array of strange materials placed there by early researchers and astronauts in training: a grill, a 6 foot tall astronaut with a flag (which is barely visible from the rim) and a small structure. I thought those things were a bit distracting to be honest and wish that they would’ve removed everything but the astronaut maybe. Aside from being funny, he gives viewers a good point of reference for depth perception. The other items just looked like trash at the bottom of a bowl.

A piece of the troublemaker!

My fiancé and I descended the staircase (hold on!) and passed briefly through the museum. I recommend spending more time in the museum especially if you have pre-teen and teen. Kids in that age group really seemed to get the most out of the exhibits. They were informative and had a few interactive elements that I liked. My favorite was a chunk of The Holsinger meteorite that formed the crater. I wish to God that I could’ve tried picking it up, just for fun, to get a better idea of the size and mass of the meteor that hit the earth so long ago. (Note: don’t try picking it up. You can’t. You’ll probably be arrested, aside from looking really stupid.)

I’d recommend a few of these tips to fellow travelers:

-Don’t rush. Giving yourself time to soak up the natural beauty around you is part of the fun. If you’re in a hurry, it’s easy to see the painted desert as some colorful hills and the meteor crater as a hole in the ground. Stop, think, and seriously enjoy them!

-Eat a lot before you set out. The food options are few and far in between. Stopping in Flagstaff and Winslow are your best bets but even then it’s slim pickings, especially for those with dietary restriction or a hatred for chain fast-food establishments.

-The informative stuff matters. Take the time to watch the videos, read the placards and whatnot. Understanding what you’re looking at enhances your experience exponentially.

The Petrified Forest & Painted Desert

My fiance and I took a trip to Phoenix, AZ in mid-July. Here's a bit of what went down:

Our first stop of the tour.

I’m not going to lie: the morning started off horribly. My fiancé and I planned to hike Camelback Mountain around 5am but only four hours of sleep got the best of us; he went back to sleep and I stared at the ceiling for an hour, which put me in a pissy mood (sorry, Babe!). I was a bit scared that this would be the suckiest day of our vacation, which would be horrible after leaving a less than divine experience in north Scottsdale.

After a quick breakfast at the hotel, my fiancé and I headed northbound towards anywhere. Truth is, neither of us knew which of the parks we wanted to see first but we knew the general direction that we needed to go. We decided upon the Petrified Forest, Painted Desert, and Meteor Crater. (Canyon de Chelly was also on the list but was ditched at the last minute. It is nearly eight hours from Phoenix.)

The drive to the Petrified Forest is absolutely stunning, particularly for a southeastern girl with limited access to desert and mountain landscapes. Close to Phoenix, the stark hills rise like hiccups from the terrain. Desert shrubs and succulents dot the land. As we progressed closer to Flagstaff, the cacti gave way to pine trees. The wind rustled tall grasses in the vast expanses of nothingness between the foothills. As exhausted as I was, I couldn’t sleep. I kept my face pressed against the glass with my future father-in-law’s camera clicking away. 

Since I hadn’t planned on visiting the Petrified Forest, I expected all of the wrong things. I imagined that the landscape would change into more forested area as we breezed down route 180; somewhere along the lines a canyon would drop beneath us and inside—preserved by heat and obscurity—would be a forest of rock-solid trees rising from the depths of the canyon.

Beautiful colors within petrified wood.

Wrong.  The route 180 looks like rural Arkansas during a dust storm: hot, dry, and sunny with expanses of fields for miles and miles. Somewhere in the distance, gray mountains peeked over the horizon. A patch of greenery here and there signaled water. A few trees survived in these areas, along with a few residential compounds that looked like they were living off of the grid.

The entrance to the park pops up out of nowhere. Even after passing the sign, there are miles to drive before reaching the Petrified Forest’s information center and trails. The petrified trees have long since fallen and many have crumbled. Massive hunks remain, radiating various colors from within in a way that in intriguing and captivating. You don’t think looking at fallen trees would be cool until you’re actually doing it. Purples, reds, oranges, greens—the rings of the tree are obscured by glistening hunks of color that represent the presence of silica, manganese, carnotite, and cinnabar. The trees are almost fully quartz, so solid they can only be but with a diamond-tipped saw. It’s a bit mind-boggling. (I asked my fiancé how long he thought it would take human bones to petrified, if our composition permitted that at all. Seriously, I’d like my bones to be that awesome long after I’m gone.)

We only spent about 30 minutes at the Petrified Forest Welcome Center trails. I’d recommend spending more time. I believe that watching the video in the center will give you a better idea of how the trees were formed and what the environment looked like before when the trees were alive.

Blue hills towards the south of the park

We hopped back into the rental car and made our way towards my favorite part of the park—the Painted Desert. We began in the low-lying hills and buttes with beautiful bands of blue, gray, and white. Those closest to the road rose no higher than fifty feet; they are low but often wide, providing stunning panoramic shots that my camera simply wasn’t prepared for. (I must go back with the proper equipment!) To the naked eye, though, the vistas are stunning.

And they only get better. As you progress towards I-40, the hills become larger mesas that plummet down into canyons, like miniature Grand Canyons that are equally stunning in color though less in scale. The rocks and sand are painted bands of red, orange, pink, amber, and white.

The region that we passed through is part of the Chinle Formation, a series of hills, buttes, and mesas that are composed of fluvial deposits. Researchers estimate that these lands were formed 200 million years ago when the region possessed wetlands. Rivers carved through the mudstone and sandstone to create the masses we see today. When nearby volcanoes erupted, they altered the normal composition of the sediment and mineral deposits, contributing to the bizarre bands of color. In short, the colors are bookmarkers for what was happening in the environment at the time.

My fiance at a lookout point in the northern red badlands

I could’ve spent hours on that route, pulling over at all of the lookout points, snapping photos and simply absorbing the beauty of it all. Unfortunately, we were trying to cram in a lot in a little time so we drove through the badlands stopping only a few times.

Next stop: Meteor Crater!

Power Hang Gliding near Chattanooga

The much awaited video is finally here!

This adventure took place 15 miles outside of Chattanooga, TN with FlyThis.biz, a power hang gliding (or hangliding) business owned and operated by Erik. He was our pilot and companion during the experience. He is incredibly friendly, informative, and simply a pleasure to work with. We highly recommend him.

My fiance and I composed the video of footage recorded using GoPro Hero in addition to video recorded by Erik's on-board camera. There are also bits of film from my fiance's iPhone. Sorry for the changes in quality and the generic music. The videos will progressively get better as we improve as editors :D




The experience was amazing. Guests are given a brief overview of the craft before hopping in and descending a ramp into the water of Rankin Cove, Marion County Park. (Note: your feet will get a bit wet.) After taxiing to gain speed, the trike lifts effortlessly from the water and continues to rise...and rise...and rise...until it reaches 2,000. The trike maxes out at 14,000 and I suppose elevation depends on Erik's discrepancy and the comfort of his guest. The speed was about 45mph, which is hard to gauge that high up with no points of reference (other than clouds and cars on the ground that look like ants). It's a comfortable speed that feels exhilarating without the wind pressing your cheeks back to your ears.


The ride lasts for about 30 minutes, with Erik describing the natural and man-made landmarks along the way. You can also learn a few meteorological tips. It's important to make sure that you can hear him, as his comments greatly enhance your experience. I think my fiance got even more out of the ride than I did because he could communicate better with Erik. 


You may also be given the opportunity to steer! I loved it, though I didn't feel as comfortable as my fiance who steered for about 15 minutes. If you chicken out, just let Erik know and he'll take the reigns, no harm done.


By far my favorite part of the trip was the descent. We made corkscrew spirals downward, with the craft nearly on its side. I loooooooooved it and wished that we could've just done that a couple of times. Landing was a breeze (like I said, he's a good pilot) and the gentle splash of the water on my legs was a much welcomed refreshment in the hot summer sun.

We encourage you to give it a try! Check Groupon for deals.

Improvements and Adventures coming soon

Hello all!
It's been quite some time since there was an update to Insert Something Creative. After the proposal has come wedding plans, plenty of work, and fun stuff in between. No excuse, right? *smile*

But there is good news. My fiance recently got a super cool Go camera and we hope to upload footage of our adventures in addition to videos and text. We used the camera for the first time this weekend and neither of us knows a thing about video editing so please be patient :D

We look forward to chronicling more fun and exciting ventures throughout the US and eventually the world. Best wishes and we'll check in again with you soon!

Full Moon Hikes Awaken Your Inner Romantic

Panola Mountain State Park offers moon light hikes to the top of the mountain. My boyfriend and I decided that we'd take the hike on a seemingly random Tuesday evening. The moon was set to be its fullest that night and we knew the views would be spectacular.

Park rangers Amy and Jamie were our guides. No one else showed up that night so I was stoked to have a little private tour. It had been years since I went to the top and I was glad to be going with my boyfriend.

Our excursion began around sunset on a cool evening. The rangers guided us up the side of Panola Mountain. Near the base, the trail is forested, dotted with small ponds and a beautiful lake right before hikers gain elevation. Around the lake are cottages, remnants of the owners who passed the park on to the state back in the 70s.

Red Diamorpha

From there, we began our journey upward. The trees became more scarce, giving way to the bare face of the granite. Amy was incredibly knowledgeable about the plant life and formations found in the bulges and crags of the monadnock. She pointed out numerous types of lichen which for some reason remind me of tiny reindeer antlers. She also noted rare red diamorpha which thrives in the tiny shallow pools that are speckled across the mountain. At one stop, we found the even rarer green diamorpha!

My favorite was the black moss, which turns bright green in seconds after pouring water on it. The transformation is even faster when there is more sunlight, but since we were catching the last rays before sunset we had to kneel down and squint to see the change.


Since we hiked during the winter, we missed out on the prickly pear cacti, the sand wart, and yellow daisies that I've heard are stunning during the warmer months.

Then we reached the top. Beautiful! The sun set in the west, and to the right we could see the Atlanta skyline as bright as day. The city juts up out of the horizon like its own strange little mountain range. It was simply stunning.

We walked up a bit further to another crest. From there, we could see nearby Arabia Mountain and the moon rising in the east. It seemed like it was "rising" pretty fast thanks to a low-lying strip of clouds. As the clouds slipped away in the distant winds, the moon grew fuller and brighter. From where we stood, it was about the size of a dinner plate in our hands.

My boyfriend, who is generally the romantic type, whipped out a tripod and asked the rangers to take photos of us. I wasn't expecting the tripod, or the portable light that he brought but I was glad that thy were there. Jamie took a few photos of us with the moonlight at our backs.

"On the count of three, everybody say, 'Yes!'" I dunno what happened to cheese, but during the third photo it all began to make sense. The flash blinded me. As my eyes recovered, I noticed Jamie hand my boyfriend a small black box. Amy shoved her hands deep into her pockets and grinned.

My boyfriend dropped to one knee and I think I went temporarily def. I could see him open the box, revealing a diamond that caught the moonlight and sent it back at me like another camera flash. I think I heard him say my name and that was enough.

"Yes, yes, yes! Get up! Oh my God, get up!" I shouted. I think I pulled him to his feet.

"Speech!" squealed Amy.

I look of horror passed my boyfriend's--I mean, fiance's--face.

I cracked up for a second. "You don't have to give a speech, just put it on me!" I'm seriously not using enough exclamation points for how I was really talking.

My fiance placed the ring on my finger and I know I squealed and kissed him for at least a good minute. Somewhere along the lines I regained my breath, called him a jerk and a punk for surprising me, and kicked him in the butt. Eh. It's what we do.

The descent was a bit of a blur. I remember that the moonlight was so bright that we didn't need flashlights at all. The light was so bright, actually, that it cast long angular shadows on the ground around us as we passed through the trees. We tried to take a few photos back at the lake, catching the moonlight and starts reflecting off of the water but nothing could capture the beauty as we saw it in front of us.

While this account doesn't describe a normal Panola Mountain Park moonlight hike, it does demonstrate just how phenomenal the park rangers are. Three park staff members were in on the scheme! They helped my finace coordinate everything and went out of their way to make everything seem like an average walk through the woods. Thank you so much Jamie and Amy!!!!