A complicated bird feeder on the High Line. Photo by Steven Severinghaus.

I’ve been a casual cross-country observer of New York’s High Line project for some time. I must have read about it in Metropolis magazine, back in 2004/2005, when I was a religious cover-to-cover reader. But the fame of the project seems to have reached a fever pitch over the last few months, and I’m constantly seeing little updates about it. For example, I saw a bunch of linkbacks to The Dirt, which published this interview with one of the co-founders of the project. And now, this week, new designs for the rail yards section were unveiled. Also, my friend Steve has taken some lovely photos at the High Line since he moved to New York. I really enjoy his photography, in general, and this seemed a good excuse to link to them.

It’s interesting to see this project unfolding over all these years; I feel as though it’s very unusual for projects of this sort to hold such engaged public attention over such a long time period. I like it. I don’t have anything really substantive to say about it, but — yeah. I like it.

Specifically, I’m thinking about acquiring the American Heritage Dictionary that was released last fall.

It’s a strange thing to do in 2012, I realize, but this Boston Globe article summarizes many of the reasons that resonate with me. An appreciation for “what print does well,” a Usage Panel that makes me go weak in the knees, and a seriously thoughtful effort to tie a beautiful physical object (that has its own usefulness) with digital tools that I could actually use.

But let’s be honest. Mostly, I want this dictionary because of Alison Bechdel, whose blog and writing I adore.

The top of the legs became a pleated high-waisted skirt, and the bottom — including the hem — was repurposed as a bodice. For the bottom, I had to make up the pleat pattern as I went along, which was hard since I don’t own a single thing with pleats, especially a more structured dress! But some pins, an iron, and a well-lit mirror helped me work it out. On top, I tweaked existing and new seams to make darts for a slightly more fitted shape and (with some supplies and encouragement from Erl) used some elastic in the back to snug up the fit.

Of course, I know a few things I wish I’d done differently, such as use a shorter zipper or add some shaping seams in the back (which I still might try), but on the whole I’m really happy with how it came out! With a cardigan and/or belt, it comes together nicely.

Click to view slideshow.

I love these photos — some because they’re great images, and some because I think they capture something great about my dad. Sharks? Fearless. Pretty girls on Mardi Gras floats? Of course. That funny little crawfish peeking over the dish? Hilarious. My father truly is a photographer. Not professionally, of course, but importantly — the same way you might say someone was “athletic,” and it would mean something about who they are. Because of that, photography has been a big part of our lives all around. Some of my memories include…

Astronomy photos! In addition to a camera, my dad also had a telescope in the backyard, and he took some amazing photos of the moon through it. Many members of my family have beautiful, framed prints in their houses. We also have pictures of a solar eclipse that are pretty incredible.

Photos of mad, crying Celeste. As a child, most of my tantrums and foolish fits were captured on film. I believe that snapping the pictures may have been an effort to discourage these kinds of displays, but I’m not so sure the tactic worked. Dad, when you read this, you’ll have to weigh in.

Darkroom lessons. My dad and I converted the bathtub of the main bathroom in our house to a darkroom, where my dad turned me loose with an enlarger, some darkroom chemicals, an old cigar box of negatives and several rolls of black-and-white film.

Thanks again, dad!

Digging is fun!

Erl and I put in a container garden at her place last year, experimenting with square-foot gardening, a technique I learned as a kid. We had some success, but Erl decided it was time to take the plunge and expand her growing space to the entire side section of the yard. So, this weekend, we rolled up our sleeves and dug in. Literally! Before/after pics and more description at Erl’s blog.

Honestly, I feel bad enough when I buy something on Amazon that I could have probably picked up locally with a short detour on my bike ride home, but when I am confronted with excessive packing like this (below), I feel especially bad. And this snap below isn’t the worst example by any stretch of the imagination.

It’s nice to hear that Amazon really is using the feedback customer’s submit for good. I hope more companies heed the example of the Philips toothrbrush mentioned in the story.

“[For the revised packaging, Philip's packing company] could use a single material, and it went through a machine just once instead of the two to three times required for the traditional package. ‘From design to finish, it’s as efficient as it gets,’ he said.”

But dang, this was good. It's hot outside, and Katz's on Mission was charmingly un-airconditioned. Add an everything bagel with hummus, avocado and sprouts, and you've got a pretty sweet lunch break in San Francisco's tiny window of summer weather.

YUM: Chicken and waffles at Gussie's!

So, Erl recently challenged me to put together a list of “Top Foods in Your Town.” I was impressed with her list, and got excited to think about my list, too. And then, I stalled.

When I was living in Portland, I could name a dozen items that would live on such a list in an instant. I could even probably name a dozen in a given category. But when it came to San Francisco, I balked. I could think of some good meals I’ve had, but could I think of a full, interesting list? No. That depressed me to no end — have I really not done that much good eating in San Francisco?

Thankfully, the answer is no. But, honestly, I’ve been more impressed by the food my friends have made or that local grocers have provided than I have been by meals dished up by the pros in this town! So, here’s an unconventional list of favorite eats courtesy of San Franciscans both public and private:

1. Sweet potato waffles with a chicken thigh at Gussies Chicken and Waffles
2. Chicken pili pili at Julia & Laura’s. (The giant flames were especially exciting.)
3. The waffle-cut kohlrabi salad with capers at Schmidt’s
4. Lamburgers at Erl‘s.
5. The brandade gratin (esp. the classic cod) at Foreign Cinema
6. Those amazing veggie enchiladas Aneesa Andrea made for Book Club
7. The chocolate chip cookies at Mixt Greens (really!)
8. Pup’s epic aloo gobi
9. The veggie burritos (and simple tacos) at Taqueria Vallarta
10. Chocolate ice cream with sea salt and bergamot-scented olive oil at Bi-Rite Creamery
11. The asparagus, goat cheese, and poached egg panini at Stable Cafe
12. The steaks from Marin Sun Farms. Especially that filet mignon.
13. Saint Benoit yogurt. Plain.
14. Sightglass Coffee.
15. The borlotti bean salad at the now defunct Bacar
16. The little fried fish at nopa (among other deliciousness they serve up)

In the spirit of discovering new things, I encourage Stepho, Love Letters to SF, Very Very Tasty and Not So Plain Jane to share their lists, too!

But another project that I’d more or less forgotten about was watching caterpillars metamorphose. Until last week.

On Tuesday, Erl sent me a text: “Can I offer you a caterpillar?”

Look, they're huge!

Shortly thereafter, I was the proud keeper of four fat, black-and-bright-green caterpillars. As a kid, I would have called them yellow swallowtail caterpillars, but a little Google searching tonight has me questioning the accuracy of that claim. Instead, they might be black swallowtails, or papilio polyxenes. At any rate, we had monarchs more often; our property had lots of milkweed that they could eat.

We put some wild fennel in their fancy two-liter bottle cage, and watched them munch away. Fast. They doubled in size within days, and increasingly large, round, fennel-smelling droppings were everywhere. Over the next few days, we went through more fennel, dumped more feces, and got ever fatter caterpillars. It was more dramatic than I remembered as a child. Maybe someone else was responsible for dumping the feces daily.

Anyway, yesterday morning, we awoke to find just three caterpillars in the bottle. Well, two, to be precise. Two had escaped during the night — one we found stuck to the outside of the container, fat and happy. The other, which we’ve since dubbed “Henry,” is still nowhere to be found. (I’m hoping to wake up some morning with a butterfly on the bed, myself.)

They’ve now stopped eating and are presumably following in the footsteps of their neighbors over at Erl’s and starting to form chrysalises. They’re arching off their sticks in funny ‘c’ shape positions, like this site says they will:

After your caterpillars have eaten you out of house and home, they will wander for a while before starting to spin a silk pad for pupation. They will again lock their rear legs into the silk mat. Swallowtails and a few other species will also make a silk sling and hang in a ‘C’. Monarchs, Painted Ladies, and others will hang in a ‘J’ shape. After a day, they will start to wiggle or move like an accordion. Their skin will again split behind their heads and they will wiggle for about three minutes. [Ed. Note: Erl says she saw one of hers actually doing this!] During this time, their skin will work toward thier [sic] back legs. When the skin is almost totally off, a pupating caterpillar will extend its cremaster around the skin and attach it to the silk pad. Since it is wiggling out of its old skin, it needs a new grip on the silk pad. After the cremaster is firmly attached, in most cases the old skin will fall off after more twisting and wiggling.

I’ll keep you posted.