I’ve spent a lot of my life analyzing every aspect of the past, mistakes big and small, and agonizing over what might happen someday, but I’m trying to learn to be grounded in the present. That looks like dancing like I haven’t danced in years at my son’s wedding and feeling nothing but my feet on the floor and my hands in the air. It’s the feeling of sinking into my own bed after a trip and feeling grateful for travel and coming home. It’s noticing a single red leaf on our crabapple tree and the vibrant purple of the asters by the back fence. It’s appreciating my cat’s whiskers catching the light from the morning sun. It’s sipping an ice-cold gin and tonic on a hot day and or making a damn good cappuccino with my new Nespresso machine.

It’s seeing all the good and seeing the challenges too. It’s being in a bad mood and knowing it will pass. It’s sitting with hurt and feeling it, realizing that not everything can or must be fixed. It’s holding the hard things lightly.

I turned 58 last week, so I’m thinking about time even more than I usually do. I can’t say I’m in my “mid 50s” anymore, though 57 was certainly stretching it. I can’t even claim to be middle aged since I have no illusions that I will live to be 116. I’m aging. I’m older. Sometimes, I even feel just plain old.

One of my friends texted to wish me a happy birthday and I realized that we met when we were 18. I texted her back saying, “We’ve known each other 40 years!” She replied, “OMG we’re so fucking old!”

Indeed, we are.

Aging is a privilege, just as it’s a gift to have friends who have known you for decades and still choose to have you in their lives. I have collected and caused my share of pain, but I have also experienced love, friendship, and joy beyond what I could have ever imagined for myself. I honestly wouldn’t trade these 58 years because they have led me to this life, this place.

And part of this life and place and time is The Quad. One of the things we have touched on but not delved to deeply into is the idea of aging in place. What does it mean to grown old with your community, to support each other beyond traditional boundaries of family? How will we care for ourselves and each other here? I don’t really have the answers, and I don’t know what it might look like. But I’m already living a life I didn’t predict, so I’m willing to see what happens.

For now, that care looks like celebrating 58 with friends singing, clapping out 58 earnest beats, and sharing a lemon meringue pie. Next year could look different, but that’s always been true. I’m just more aware of that fact than I was at 18. So, I’ll try to scroll Instagram less* and notice the changing of the light and the leaves, appreciate the smell of freshly ground coffee and a cozy blanket, and center myself in gratitude for the fact that I’m still here.

^{*Seriously. I need accountability buddies on this. It’s about to be me and my Brick against the world.}

Pictures from around The Quad…

Sometimes, I use pictures to inspire my posts. I look back through my camera roll and review the things that have captured my attention since the last time I wrote. Then, I sift out the cat photos, though those sometimes make it into the gallery, and the screen caps. The screencaps in my most recent scan provide a peek into my brain.

Behold 5 sequential items in my camera roll:

• Screencap of an Ikea cart with baskets (a possibility for storing our onions)

• Screencap of an announcement for a Death Cafe in Viroqua, WI (possible activity for an upcoming trip with friends)

• Picture of a tomato (taken to put in The Quad text thread to see who wanted it)

• Screencap of journal prompts

• Screencap related to a video game I play (don’t ask - I’m sure it’s not one you play)

All that in just 24 hours. My mind was working on some things - food storage, travel, journaling, and gaming - and that big tomato inserted itself right into the middle as tomatoes are wont to do this time of year.

I don’t eat a lot of fresh tomatoes. My mother loved home grown tomatoes and would sprinkle salt on them and eat them like apples, but I’m not like that. I don’t tend to put them on my sandwiches because I honestly don’t think they add much more than color and a tiny bit of acid. The only exception is a BLT because it’s just too sad to have a BL. I don’t like to put them in my salad because of the juiciness. I do like to use them for caprese salad, but I don’t always have mozzarella on hand, which is a problem I can and will correct next time I go to the store.

This means that when my friends pick tomatoes from our garden and give them to me to ripen in my south-facing windows and the tomatoes turn that beautiful red, I then have to find homes for them.

So, I text the thread.

“Who needs tomatoes? These are ripe,” with an accompanying picture of 7 beautiful ripe tomatoes.

“Who wants this big tomato? It’s ripened in the window,” with a picture of a big heirloom tomato.

“…I have five gorgeous tomatoes ripening on our sill.” This text included a picture of said tomatoes and 22 ripe cherry tomatoes that I didn’t even mention. Twenty two - yes, I counted them.

No one from The Quad claimed any of those tomatoes because they have their own. I did make a pasta salad with the cherry tomatoes which was delicious. We keep the occasional tomato for Luisa to have on sandwiches, but there are still more. I may not want to eat them like apples, but I know this is a good problem to have and I will not waste them! So, I’ve started throwing them in a bag in the freezer.

Last summer, Luisa and I discovered how easy it is to make pasta sauce with frozen tomatoes. You blanch them right out of the freezer and the skin comes right off. So, that’s the plan with this year’s frozen collection. It’s like the Island of Misfit Toys but for tomatoes! I don’t know how many types of tomatoes we planted, and I certainly don’t know the names. I can only tell you that my bag of tomatoes contains “pretty ridged ones”, Romas, “weird heirloomy ones”, “regular ones”, and round ones. This fall, I will be making Island of Misfit Tomatoes™ sauce, and I will be so grateful for those tomatoes. Because I may not love fresh tomatoes, but I certainly love tomato-based things.

Am I done talking about tomatoes? No, I am not. Because now I want to talk about the joy that is homemade salsa.

Last summer, Susan made roasted tomato salsa, and it blew my mind. I’d never had salsa made from the garden. The flavor was so deep yet so fresh. I couldn’t get enough of it. So, when she asked me if I wanted to make and can salsa with her, I excitedly said yes!

I cut up 9 pounds of tomatoes and 2 cups of cilantro while Susan cut 5 onions, a bunch of garlic, and 2 pounds of jalapenos. Everything went on trays and into the oven to roast. In solidarity with the veggies, we also roasted because it was a hot and humid summer day and the oven was at 400+ degrees while a giant pot of water boiled on the stove. After the roasting, everything (except for us) went into a pot and we blended it together before starting the canning process.

In all, we canned 16 jars of roasted tomato salsa. Unfortunately, not all of them sealed so those went in the fridge to be eaten immediately. We gave some away, but we have eaten a lot of salsa. I have no regrets.

The first summer at The Quad, I felt like all I ate was grilled zucchini. Last summer, I ate my weight in cucumbers and made a million things with cherries. This summer is all about tomatoes. Each year, I learn new ways to prepare things from our garden as we deal with our bounty. What will next summer bring? I’m hoping we can grow chocolate croissants.

Pictures from around The Quad…

It’s been a minute since my last post. Time obviously got away from me because my last post was about the arrival of spring and now it is summer. I know there was work and basement organizing and compost shoveling and garden planting. And my son got married and we all went to Cape Cod for that! Somewhere during all of that, I forgot that I write things. Part of that is that I also got a new job and that new job is in person, outside The Quad. Leaving is hard and I haven’t worked in person since 2012, so this has been a big change and I’m still adjusting.

In April, we finished some work in our basement, and we now have a beautiful, spacious place to gather inside our building. This revamp includes a space for guests to stay, a place to make food and drinks, and a bathroom. Having a community space like this was always part of the dream, but I can’t believe we made it happen so soon. Stumble into the basement and you might see someone doing a puzzle or reading a book. More recently, it’s been the place to be for watching World Cup matches on the big TV.

As spring gave way to summer, we had to prepare the garden beds and plant. That involved a couple of loads of compost in Casper and everyone pitching in to move it all into the beds. I found that at nearly 58, my shoveling stamina is not what it once was. I can do it, but I need to take more breaks. That discovery is humbling, but also a powerful reminder of why living in community is a gift - I don’t have to do these things alone. When I’m tired of shoveling, I can pass the shovel to someone else and push the wheelbarrow instead. Or I can just sit out for a bit and have a cold drink. This is true for all of us.

Last fall, we gathered to talk about what we loved from the garden, what we didn’t make use of, and what people thought was missing. The Gardening Committee took all that information into account when making a list of what we wanted to plant this year. Susan and Kris turned that list into a garden plan and then, the two of them along with Kristen planted everything.

I think back to the first summer at our place when my friends planted and weeded and I watched. I remember the discomfort I felt, the guilt. Now, I notice how that feeling has shifted from guilt to gratitude. At some point, I started saying, “Thank you for your service,” when someone at The Quad did something that I didn’t want to do. Initially, I was making a little jokey joke, but I say it more often now and I mean it. Thank you for your service. Thank you for the big and small things you do that we all benefit from. I’m glad we are in this together.

In the past couple of weeks, we have been berry busy. Susan foraged mulberries and we made mulberry jam and canned it. This was the first time I had ever made jam, and it was so much easier than I thought it would be. We have nine jars of mulberry jam, though none of us seem to eat much jam. So, know that if you visit, you might be leaving with a jar.

We have also spent the past two weeks harvesting cherries. Last year, we made boozy cherries and then froze the rest. We had so many cherries in the freezer. We made sour cherry crumble, sour cherry scones, sour cherry sorbet, sour cherry bars, sour cherry loaf, and sour cherry clafoutis.

This year, we went into the harvest with new ideas.

We bought a dehydrator and dehydrated all but two pounds from the first harvest. Kristen has already used the dried cherries to make the best granola I’ve ever had. Luisa used the two pounds of fresh cherries to make ginjinha, a Portuguese liqueur made with sour cherries, agua ardente, cinnamon, and wine.

The first time I ever tasted ginjinha was in 1997, during my first visit to Portugal. We were staying with Luisa’s grandparents and after dinner, her grandfather pulled out this bottle of dark liquid full of murky orbs and suggested we have a drink. My first thought was, “What is that?” My second thought was, “How old is that?” We drank it and it was wonderful. Now, Luisa is making her own jar of dark liquid with murky orbs. I can’t wait to try it.

Yesterday, we did a second harvest and filled the dehydrator again and put several bags in the freezer. Raquel plans to make fruit leather, Susan and I are going to make jam, and I’m sure we’ll continue to learn how to use cherries. We are becoming sour cherry experts over here.

So, the summer season of Quad Life is in full swing. And for those who kept up with Loofah Watch last year, we are growing them again. We love a challenge.

Pictures from around The Quad…

I have a new job and Listen To Your Mother Twin Cities (which I co-produce) is in full swing and, after a winter during which I stayed inside unless protesting or delivering food, I’m now out in the world more. My brain is now occupied with things I can control rather than those I can’t, which is great but tiring in its own way. A busy brain is a busy brain and memes can’t be my only coping skill.

A few weeks ago, we saw a bird of prey eating another bird right near the patio. It was a bit of Wild Kingdom right in our backyard. Raquel got a good picture of it and I put it into my Merlin app and discovered it was…a merlin!

It was small but fierce and it hung out in the yard for quite awhile, undeterred by Magali and Cy milling about. Eventually, it finished its meal and moved on but I loved being able to watch it from my deck. There are a lot of jokes out there about people becoming birders in middle age and, for me, I’ve realized that I have become interested in the natural world in general because it helps me slow down. Focusing on a merlin or buds on a tree or a sunset quiets my mind for a little while. I notice I breathe more deeply and my shoulders relax.

I recently read Raising Hare by Chloe Dalton and I can’t recommend it enough. She writes about her experience raising an abandoned baby hare and the impact it had on her and, ultimately, her life. It’s a gorgeous depiction of the power of nature to calm us, to help us prioritize things differently, and to remind us of the wonder in small things. I know many of us are looking for that right now and if you can’t find a merlin in your yard, pick up Raising Hare and it might have the same effect. It’s the first book that has made me cry happy tears in a long time.

Pictures from around The Quad…

I’ve written before about finding light in the darkness before and the response of everyday Minnesotans to the ICE siege here has certainly been a tremendous source of light, but in the dark days of winter, we often need literal light as well. In that spirit, Kris, Stella, and I took an ice luminary class, learning to harness the cold to create something beautiful to contribute to the Northside Luminary Light Up.

We participated in the event last year, but our luminaries were so small and wonky that they didn’t even warrant candles. They were just used as decor at the bases of the better luminaries. Taking the class helped us up our game. This year, we made 31 luminaries and they turned our so much better than last year and I am proud to report that they were all lit up for the event.

This year’s event was billed as a 40-hour vigil for Minneapolis:

Bringing light to the darkness. Join your neighbors and others from our broader Twin Cities community for a time of reflection, healing, love, and peace, surrounded by beautiful ice luminaries.

Volunteers worked for two days to transport over 400 luminaries to the site and create the installations. It was absolutely beautiful and the pictures don’t do it justice.

As I write this, the sun is shining and the high today is supposed to be 46 degrees, which reminds me that it won’t always be so dark and cold, figuratively and literally. My hope is that whatever we have learned from the darkness endures and that real change comes with the light.

Last week, an ICE agent murdered Renee Good in south Minneapolis. I doubt this is news to most of you but people in Minneapolis are still reeling. I heard the news right after it happened and, that night, some people gathered at a vigil while others marched downtown but I stayed home. I couldn’t bear the thought of standing in a crowd, couldn’t bear to hear words of encouragement or comfort, couldn’t bear to chant.

I write this not because I want or need absolution, but to give it to anyone who might be reading this who has struggled to meet the moment. Because there are just so many of these moments, so much happening.

I have seen all the pictures, the videos, and the bystander interviews and I recognized the neighborhood. I drove on those very streets to get to our previous home in south Minneapolis. I walked through that neighborhood for years. I saw someone online saying that one of the videos was clearly AI because there was a T-Rex in the background but I know that T-Rex. Most people in Minneapolis know that T-Rex.

The day after the murder, ICE grabbed people in the parking lot of the nonprofit I worked at until last May. They took people from the Target that I used to go to. Yesterday, they tried to take people from the grocery store two blocks from The Quad.

I write this not to center myself or to imply that my pain and outrage are greater because I am closer in proximity. I write this because what is happening here in Minneapolis feels abstract to so many. Many of you who read this are not from Minneapolis, so I write this to make it concrete. What is happening in Minnesota is not abstract, not just news or something to scroll past online—you know someone in Minneapolis, someone who has stood on the ground where ICE killed someone, someone whose neighbors have been and continue to be taken.

Last week, I stood in a room of strangers and packed boxes of food for families who are justifiably afraid to leave their homes. Others in The Quad have shopped and delivered food to families. We are walking and driving through our neighborhoods, vigilant and ready to intervene on behalf of our neighbors. On Saturday, Kris, Kristen, Luisa, and I went to A Bar of Our Own for a drink and some appetizers. I cannot explain how surreal it is to do something as simple as that while the city is under siege. But at one point, a man started blowing a whistle outside of the bar and nearly every single person inside stood up and went to the window, not to gawk but to see what was needed. Thankfully, it turned out to be a false alarm but everyone was ready to step in had it not been.

I write this not because I want a pat on the back or some sort of validation but because I want you to know that people in Minneapolis are doing everything they can. People are organizing, feeding neighbors, pooling money to pay rent for families, standing outside schools, driving neighbors to and from work, and stepping up in so many ways.

Amy Klobuchar said that there are more ICE agents here than the combined police forces of Minneapolis and St. Paul and more agents are reportedly on their way.

ICE is terrorizing Minnesota.

They may be here now but they are clear that their plan is to inflict their violence everywhere. Speak up when you can. March when you can. Interrupt in whatever way you can. Send money to organizations on the ground.

Take care of yourselves and take care of your neighbors because this is what community looks like.

If you would like to donate to a hyper-local mutual aid fund, please message me privately and I can share that information with you.

We have put the garden to bed, but it continues to feed us. I’ve enjoyed homemade pasta sauce that was canned this summer. We used the last harvest of herbs for our Thanksgiving turkey and I made scones with what was left over. Last weekend, I made cocktails garnished with our sour cherries that had been soaking in bourbon since we harvested them. These are bright spots for sure, small reminders of sunny days.

We went to the neighborhood holiday potluck, which was fun and festive, but people have also been meeting to organize in support of our neighbors who are being targeted by ICE. Many of us at The Quad have been supporting family members in moving, having surgery, or living with chronic pain. We’ve also put up Christmas trees, stockings, and lights on the tree in the front yard. It is often jarring that all these things are happening at the same time, so I am learning once again that joy and pain can and do exist in close proximity. The twinkling of lights make the dark days a little brighter just as our connections to others makes the dark times a little lighter.

Last Friday, Luisa and I left Pittsburgh very early in the morning to drive back to Minneapolis. We started before the sun rose and it seemed to take forever before we saw first light. We got lucky with the weather and decided to push through in one day with the company of a good audio book. After 14 1/2 hours, we made it to The Quad. It was as dark when we arrived as it had been when we set out that morning and we were exhausted but the lights on the building made me smile. Our friends helped us unload our car and then welcomed us home with homemade chicken noodle soup and warm bread. “We are so lucky,” I thought. We really are. This act of kindness was not lost on me and I know it is a great example of finding light in the literal and figurative darkness. All we can do is offer what we have to each other.

I meant it when I said that I am struggling to find words these days. I just wanted to share a moment of light with all of you and I’m hoping that you’ll share yours in the comments. We need it more than ever.

Pictures from around The Quad…

Two thoughts popped into my head:

1. Loofahs don’t come from the ocean?

2. I can grow dozens of loofahs and never have to buy a sponge from a big box store again!

The instagrammer has been lost to my algorithm that now favors videos of baking and ancient axe restoration (and no, I don’t know how I ended up there) but I remember she lived in the south and grew more loofahs than she knew what to do with. I dreamed of such loofah riches. So, I brought the loofah idea to The Quad Gardening Committee and everyone was on board. We started the seeds in late winter/early spring and they thrived!

Then, when we could begin planting outside, we transferred them to our raised beds with an arch and I eagerly waited for them to take over and start producing. The plants struggled initially but did eventually begin to grow up the arches but not a single loofah appeared and we gave them up for dead. And then, much to our surprise, a single loofah appeared in the middle of September. I was so excited but I also knew it would be a race against time—would the loofah mature before the first frost? Thus began Loofah Watch 2025 on our Instagram account.

Last Thursday, I picked the FOUR loofahs on our vines to beat the forecasted frost the following day. They were not mature but I read that you can bake them and then harvest the sponges. So, that’s what I did.

I was pretty excited about our small yield and began to research loofahs so that we could increase our yield next year and I learned some very interesting things I wish I’d known before growing them:

1. They take 200 days to fully mature.

2. They are a tropical plant.

You may recall that we live in Minnesota. Suddenly, our loofah journey made a lot more sense. I shared this information with the Gardening Committee and suggested that perhaps different plants might better serve our space and energy.

But we will each get a couple of usable loofahs, though I must confess that I was drying them on a cookie sheet and, while kitten-proofing our place for a feline visitor, I put them in the oven and forgot about them…until yesterday when I preheated the oven to 400 degrees to make cookies. Now, we have roasted loofahs and I have some regrets.

What fun thing should we grow next year? Bananas? Pineapples? Coffee beans?

Pictures from around The Quad…

Our freezer is full of food for the winter, mostly because Susan became a Food Prep Machine. She bagged things for the freezer and canned tomato sauce, salsas, and chutney. Others added a few things too. Very little has gone to waste. Susan also found friends with apple trees and brought home close to 20 pounds of apples. I made apple butter and Susan taught me how to can it. Kristen, Kris, and Susan also foraged pears and some of those made it into the freezer as well. The freezer is so packed that Luisa and Susan went through it to make sure everything was labeled and create an inventory. Then, they made a freezer map!

But I’ve noticed that without the yard work and garden to maintain, it’s been a little bit quieter around here. We’ve returned to work and personal projects now that the excitement and bustle of summer has come and gone. Instead of hauling dirt and rocks, we’ve been gathering in the basement to watch the Great British Baking Show in the evening. I’m ready for coziness, baking, and people being kind to each other, so this activity is pretty much perfect for me.

We’re starting to plan what’s next, though. We’ll be decorating for Halloween, going to a corn maze, baking pumpkin spice cookies, and planning other fun activities for the coming months. The Fun Committee will be taking over where the Gardening Committee left off. Yes, we have committees…but only those two. I’m also making a list of projects I want to tackle inside our unit to keep myself busy during the colder months.

We’ve also started an instagram account if you want to see pictures that you might not find here. Follow us at QuadLifeMpls. We’re just getting it started, so there isn’t much there yet.

But right now, things are quiet, which is why I haven’t written much this month.

If you have questions about The Quad, please ask in the comments and I will address them in future posts.

Pictures from around The Quad…

The cucumbers are coming fast now and the tomatoes are starting to ripen on the vine. The squash and melons are big but their color suggests that they are not yet ready to harvest. Tonight, I’ll pick zucchini to use when I make dinner and I’ll send a text later that I saw a large tomato ready to be picked and asking if anyone plans to use the eggplant. The sunflowers are starting to droop and the squirrels took the seeds from the biggest one before we could pull them to save for next year. The cauliflower, broccoli, and cabbage have all been eaten and there won’t be any more until next year. But there is still kale and chard; the goldfinches are particularly grateful for the latter.

Of course, gardens have their seasons but I’ve known that intellectually rather than experientially. Now, I remember that last year the peppers and tomatoes came later, that the deluge of cucumbers did as well. I’m learning that the melons and squash are also telling me of the changing seasons but paying attention to a garden is new to me. I’m guessing it will take a few years for me to fully understand what the garden is saying and even longer to truly know it.

I have never been summer’s biggest fan. I complain constantly about the heat. I don’t like to sweat. I feel nearly naked without my comfortable hoodies.

But this summer was beautiful.

It was filled with hard work with people I love and cold drinks after—both of which made the sweat feel worthwhile. There were many dinners on the patio, planned and spontaneous. We watched movies and Bad Sisters together in the basement, all of us taking turns replenishing the snack table. We’ve had many visitors and lots of laughter. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve watched the sunset over downtown and many times, when I’ve gone out on the deck to take it in fully, there are friends out there doing the same. We laugh and say, “It never gets old.” And it doesn’t.

I constantly marvel at the gardens, not because I like and eat everything we have grown, but because it reminds me of what is possible together. If Luisa and I lived here alone, the gardens would not be what they are despite it being the same swatch of land. Despite our friends having more gardening experience than we do, I know they would have gardens but suspect they would look very different without the influence and ideas from the group. When I look at our outdoor space, I think, “Look what we have done.” That is community.

This sense of community has been present for a long time with this particular group of chosen family. Shared living is just the newest frontier for us and the work we have put into the yard and a new coat of paint for The Quad has truly made this place ours.

One day last week, Luisa and I were returning from grocery shopping and as we approached The Quad, I said, “Look at her. She’s gorgeous.” The deep green trim instead of the old cream and orange, the dark bronze windows, the hydrangeas in full bloom, and the vines heavy with squash stretched out along the old fence—it was striking. I said, “She looks loved and cared for,” and Luisa said, “Because she is.” We are taking care of this land and place and being cared for in return. That too is community.

This summer was a good one and I’m learning that good doesn’t mean perfect. It was hot, humid, and smoky and I certainly had my own personal challenges. But still, it was good. And while I look forward to cooler breezes and my beloved hoodies, I will be saying goodbye to summer more wistfully this year. Goodbye and thank you.

Pictures from around The Quad…

The Quad Experience generally includes:

Accommodations

We plan to finish our basement with space for guests and, eventually, the fourth unit will also be available for visitors, but we make room for people to stay with us now. We shift ourselves around into each others’ units to make room for guests, or use a pull-out bed, and a couple of brave souls even stayed in the basement without a bathroom. Right now, the accommodations are not ideal but we make it work!

Meet and Greet

When people come to see their Quad-dwelling friend or family member, they meet the rest of us (if they haven’t already). We try to be around and available for fun when someone has guests but that doesn’t mean that everything is a group activity. People still have time alone with their people.

This is one of the things I was concerned about before moving in. Would it be awkward? Would people feel left out? How would we navigate that? So far, it hasn’t been an issue at all. We invite each other to join when we want to have a bigger group and let everyone know if it’s a small group thing. When in doubt, we ask and check in with each other.

Garden Tour

This has become mandatory. My apologies to any guests who are not interested in hearing about the garden and all the yard projects we have done and intend to do.

The quality of this tour varies wildly depending on the tour guide. Susan, Kris, and Kristen are the top tour guides. Luisa, Raquel, and I are definitely the B Team. When we had friends visiting last week, Luisa and I gave the garden tour which included such highlights as:

• “This is another squashy thing.”

• “This is some kind of bush. It gives fruit but I don’t remember what kind.”

• “I think this is arugula.”

• “This could be cucumbers or another squashy thing.”

• “I can’t remember what kind of tree this is but it’s name is Ferrous, so, it’s an iron something.”

Needless to say, there was not a Q&A session at the end of our tour. The top tour guides, however, can provide all the details, including which plants are native, what varieties of “squashy things” we are growing, what’s coming up from seed, and how all the plants can be used.

Deck Time

We love our decks, porches, and patio and point out the lovely view of downtown at least five times per visit. We might do it five times during Golden Hour alone. We enjoy morning coffee on the deck as well as the occasional Happy Hour with drinks and charcuterie later in the day.

I sit outside here more than I ever did at our house but I admit that this summer has been a challenge. It has been incredibly hot and the smoke from the Canadian wildfires has had a significant impact on the air quality. When our friends were here last week, I was a reluctant participant in deck time. Nevertheless, we persisted.

Dinner on the Patio

This is my favorite thing we have started doing when there are guests—a big dinner on the patio. We usually grill and by “we” I mean that Luisa handles the actual grilling and the rest of us prepare sides, salads, drinks, and a little something for dessert.

We’ve done a straightforward backyard BBQ with brats and veggie kababs. We’ve done steak and chicken fajitas. Most recently, we had a Portuguese dinner with grilled sardines, roasted peppers, corn bread, and potatoes with olive oil.

We pull a couple of tables together, sit down for a delicious meal, and talk until the mosquitos chase us inside.

For now, this is what summer at The Quad means to me—welcoming friends and family to our place and making them feel at home and a part of our little community.

Pictures from around The Quad…

It’s easy to write about our gardens and home improvement plans but it is harder to write about how we got here because I want it to feel easy and achievable. I believe that we would all be better off living in community, especially as the world around us shifts and the safety nets that many of us have counted on disappear. But the truth is that it took work to get to this point and it takes work to live with other people, no matter how much you love them and enjoy their company.

At The Quad, we are a group of very different people. Our brains work differently which means we approach projects and problems differently. We don’t always agree and we don’t always feel heard. Some of us are planners and some of us want and need more flexibility. We come from different socioeconomic backgrounds and different cultures. We bring our baggage with us just like everyone else.

So, the work now is not about finding a place and sorting out the financial pieces of buying it together. The work now is the ongoing work of respecting each other, recognizing the unique gifts each of us bring to any situation, and continuing to hone the communication skills that helped us get this far. This doesn’t work because we are all the same. It works because we put effort into making it work.

Last week, I stood around my kitchen island with my friends as we dished up the sorbet I had made with the cherries from our tree. Kristen had grabbed some mint from our garden to garnish the dishes and said, “You have to slap it to bring the oils out.” So, we slapped some mint and placed it on top of the servings of sorbet before digging into it. We talked and laughed and planned the next ice cream, the next garden project, the next gathering, the next small dream that is part of this big dream of life here together. I could easily see the beauty of that moment.

Last weekend, we removed the last of the garden beds and put in a bee lawn. There were also rain garden and concrete-moving projects going on at the same time. It was hot and humid and the work was physically demanding. Manual labor in the heat will make just about anyone crabby and we all had our moments of impatience and frustration to work through. It’s harder to see the beauty in those moments but it is there too.

It’s there in taking a breath and listening to someone else’s suggestion. It’s there in realizing that someone just needs to understand why you want to do something a certain way. It’s there in stepping in when you see someone struggling. It’s there when someone suggests you take a water break even though you are totally fine thank you very much. It’s there when you choose not to take something personally and give the other person the benefit of the doubt. And it’s there when you step back at the end of a long, hot weekend and see how much you accomplished together. All of that is beautiful too.

All of this is to say that this is not our first rodeo. We’ve had a lot of rodeos. We could join the rodeo pro circuit, assuming we are still speaking metaphorically. We didn’t jump right into owning property and living together. Our first project started in the late 1990s.

Several of us had bought older homes around the same time and realized that home ownership is a lot of work. Fixing up an old house—inside and outside—can be daunting. So, we came together to help each other work on our homes.

Then, we had children around the same time and wanted our children to be cared for by people they knew, people who were personally invested in their growth and development. So, we came together to care for each others’ children.

As family life became busy and overwhelming, we talked about how hard it was to balance scheduled activities, cooking, and having time together as a family. So, we set up a cooking rota and dinner exchange, meaning each family had a couple nights each week when they didn’t have to think about preparing a meal.

These were formalized cooperative efforts, and it was through these formal projects that we learned to navigate our differences, to resolve conflict, and to build community. I know that I am a better person as a result.

Community is hard work but it is work worth doing. Building community isn’t all fresh sorbet and mint. Sometimes, it’s dirty, sweaty work but it can be done. What do you want or need? Who might be able to help? That’s how you start.

Pictures from around The Quad…

Still, we had so many cherries! Luisa and I sat on the deck and pitted them all by hand, which took about two hours and our fingers were pruned from all the cherry juice. We froze our harvest and enjoyed them for months and just used the last bag of frozen cherries this spring. I was initially daunted by the “sour” part of the cherry variety but they turned out to be absolutely delicious in scones and tarts.

This past weekend, the tree was ready for an initial harvest and we were all here to pick and process.

We learned a lot from last year and were better prepared:

• We brought out a real ladder in addition to the wobbly step stools we used last year.

• We bought cherry pitters so that we could pit the cherries without causing as much damage to them.

• We are armed with more ideas for how to use them, including boozy cherries for drinks. So, we had mason jars on hand for that.

There were the six of us, one of our adult children, and Kristen’s parents who were visiting, proving once again that many hands make light work. We were done with picking, pitting, washing, and bagging in just a couple of hours total.

Earlier that morning, I had made a simple syrup with bourbon and vanilla, so once the cherries were ready, I made three jars of boozy cherries. In addition to that, we put 20 cups of cherries in bags for the freezer. I’m guessing only about half the cherries on the tree were ripe and we picked almost of all of those. This morning, I noticed that all the remaining cherries are ripe, so we’ll be picking the rest tonight.

I honestly never imagined this aspect of The Quad Life. I did imagine shared meals and shared labor but I never pictured the laughter and joy of picking and pitting cherries with my friends on a hot and humid summer day. I would have never guessed that I would vibrate with joy upon seeing all those cherries tucked into the freezer for later use. I could not have predicted how much pleasure I would get from trying to figure out how to use what we grow. I mean…I made garlic scape salt this weekend with the last of our scapes. I doubt anyone saw that coming. More and more often, I find myself thinking, “What could we do with that?” when I look at our gardens and see an overabundance of something.

The news is horrifying and I continue to struggle to process everything that is happening in the U.S. and around the world. But I do know that there is something grounding and powerful about sharing the beauty of a freshly picked cherry with someone you love and something hopeful about putting something you’ve grown into the freezer to be enjoyed in the future—connection and a little bit of hope. Sometimes, it’s the simple things that help us keep going.

Drop your favorite recipes that use sour cherries in the comments, so we aren’t forced to start adding cherries randomly to everything we make.

If I start writing about sour cherry pesto, you’ll know it’s time for an intervention.

Pictures from the cherry harvest…

Our place is in a quiet little part of north Minneapolis and, each morning, I take my cup of coffee out onto the back deck and stare at the Minneapolis skyline and our little plot of land. I hear the cardinal’s song and the chattering of the sparrows and feel like I’m in the woods. I see the gold finches flitting about among the growing chard and kale, and watch the sparrows taking dirt baths in the garden beds. I notice what has grown and what is blooming. I take it all in. Sometimes, I run into one of my Quad mates doing the same. Sometimes we chat; sometimes we just acknowledge each other and retreat into our own thoughts and observations.

All that is to say that it is beautiful and peaceful here. The physical space we are creating together is a balm in these scary and tumultuous times. The feeling of togetherness is too.

On Saturday, a few of us went to the Farmer’s Market in the morning. Others ran errands. Later, we worked in the yard but not as a coordinated group on a big project. Raquel weeded with her headphones on. I joined Kris in wrapping string around tripods for the cucumbers. Susan ran string to the fence for the peas. Luisa mowed the lawn. Later, she and Kris went to get rocks for the rain garden while Kristen and I placed the ones we had; I followed her direction because I still don’t completely understand rain gardens.

Later that afternoon, there was an unexpected deluge of rain and we realized that the rain garden needs more work and we couldn’t have dinner outside because the rain was blowing so hard that everything was drenched. We threw together a spontaneous charcuterie situation. Susan planned to make chicken and orzo but was happy to share. So, we gathered at Kris and Kristen’s to have cheese, hummus, veggies, smoked trout, and chicken and orzo once it was finished—a dinner of bits and bobs.

Over this impromptu dinner, the conversation turned to The Quad. We all come to the idea of community from different places. For some of us, it is personal and political, with a sense of the deeper context and purpose. For some of us, it feels a bit more personal than political, though the personal is always political.

There is no way to capture the conversation but three things stuck with me.

• Privilege: It is a privilege to live in this place with people we love. We can share with each other easily, whether it’s rhubarb cake, labor, financial responsibility, or even our personal struggles. We talked about the sheepishness or guilt some of us feel when talking about The Quad because we know how special it is and are aware that so many people are alone or without a built-in support system.

• Third Spaces: I wasn’t familiar with this concept until it came up in our conversation and I have since done a bit of reading about it. Third spaces are spaces that aren’t work or home where people can gather and connect. Our outdoor spaces definitely fit that description, as does our basement even though it is unfinished. We share meals outside or a cup of coffee, or just greet each other in passing for quick check-ins. We’ve gathered in the basement to watch movies or binge shows. The experience of this third space here contributes to the sense of community and all the good vibes. Yeah, I am a person who says vibes now.

• Parallel Play: We tend to think of children when we talk about parallel play but it’s important for adults too. Parallel play is basically doing your own thing in the same space as another person. It’s companionship that doesn’t require direct interaction. It’s listening to a book on the deck while a friend scrolls instagram nearby. It’s picking strawberries while someone else lies in the hammock on the patio. Parallel play has a calming effect on people. As much as we love a group project around here, we do a lot of parallel play.

All this brings me to my original point: sometimes, I find it hard to leave The Quad. It’s beautiful and calm here and some of my favorite people in the world are bound to make an appearance at some point during my day.

Why would I go out for drinks when I can have cocktails with friends right here? Why do I need to go out for coffee when my Nespresso machine can make a mean latte for an afternoon treat with a Quad mate? Why do I need to go to the gym when I have a treadmill in the basement? Why go to a park when I can sit in the quiet on the deck?

Obviously, this is a problem of the aforementioned privilege. But I also know that it is something to be aware of—I will have to make an effort to leave, to go out into the world and see other people and do other things. I have to remember that there is a lot of life outside The Quad and it’s worth putting myself out there.

Pictures from around The Quad this week…

When I was a social worker, I worked at the Hennepin County Government Center and would often grab lunch from a particular deli in the skyway. I always got the same thing and then, one day, I walked up to the counter and the person said, “Hi Vikki! We’ll get started on your sandwich.” I’m guessing most people would appreciate that level of personal service but I was felt a little panicky. I was no longer anonymous; I was known, and being known even superficially like that unsettled me for some reason and I never went back to that deli again.

Most people are fine with being seen superficially and wouldn’t give up a really good sandwich simply for anonymity, and some people are even comfortable being known deeply. Like most of us, I want to be seen and known but it isn’t always easy.

Living in community with my friends over the years, first as a close circle in different places and now here at The Quad together, I have had to grapple with this desire for connection while also finding it scary sometimes. Connection requires intimacy, requires that we allow others in, that we let them see who we are, that we give and take—not always in equal measure. Being known is not always comfortable.

It makes me think of the song True Blue by Boy Genius and the line, “And it feels good to be known so well; I can’t hide from you like I hide from myself.” Being known is a revelation. We come to know each other when we reveal ourselves to each other, not just by our words and what we choose to share, but by our actions and how we are in the world. This includes the best of who we are but also the imperfect parts, the parts we try to hide. Anonymity can feel protective but it can also be lonely.

Last Friday was my last day at work and I honestly didn’t know how I felt about it. But at some point during the day, each person here at The Quad asked me how I was feeling. It was a lot, especially when I didn’t feel like talking about it. But that a lot-ness is a beautiful thing. They showed up to mark this transition, to check in, to be angry on my behalf, and to celebrate the possibility in whatever comes next. I didn’t have to be happy or sad or anything at all. I could just be. That is the gift of being known.

That evening, we gathered for a potluck Happy Hour on the deck. It was an amazing spread and when I look at the eclectic mix of things, I see all of us there, what each of us literally and figuratively brings to the table. We toasted to my unemployment and then we ate and drank and talked over each other and we were there, in the moment, and it was just what I needed.

It feels good to be known so well.

Pictures from around The Quad this week…

Top left to right: Raquel and I weeding the garlic and spinach, our cute little crabapple tree, Susan and Kris planting our choke cherry tree

Bottom left to right: Kristen and Luisa creating a path to the patio from the fourth unit, clematis blooming on the patio, morning coffee and a great view

And yet, somehow, there is still joy. This past weekend, we went to Carlisle, PA to see one of our Quad kids graduate from college. All six of us were there with three of the five of our kids. The weather was perfect and being together for a long weekend was pure joy. I spent quality time with some of the people I love most in the world and was truly present, which isn’t always my strong suit. We returned to Minneapolis on Monday exhausted but happy.

I went back to work on Tuesday and found out I was being laid off. My last day will be next Friday.

It was such a powerful reminder that we can and do move from sadness to happiness and back again. It’s taken me a lot of years to understand that this is simply part of the dance of life.

On Wednesday, I had a final meeting with my manager who is going on maternity leave. She said a lot of kind things about me and the sincerity made me cry. It felt like another low point; I hate crying at work.

It’s rained all week and the news is horrifying and I’m losing my job but, this morning, the sun was out, so, Luisa and I decided to take a walk in the garden to see how things were growing. On the way downstairs, I peeked in and saw Susan and told her we were taking a garden tour. She excitedly joined us.

We’ve done so much work on the yard and things are starting to grow. The herb garden is thriving. The honeyberry, currant, and service berry bushes that we planted have filled out and look healthy. The strawberry plants are blooming and the sour cherries are starting to show up on the tree. There are too many plants to name but everything is green and lush.

At one point, I bent down to look at the radish plants and I saw a plump, red radish emerging from the ground. Then, I saw another and another. I pulled them gently from the ground and they were bright and perfect. I smiled widely and thought, “Things may be hard but there are fresh radishes!”

I cleaned them and delivered some to Kris and Kristen’s place. Susan took a handful back to hers. I was finishing my coffee but I ate a radish anyway. I can’t recommend the coffee/radish combination but, in that moment, it was delicious.

I thought about all the harvests to come and the neighbors we don’t know well who have stopped by asking if we might have fresh tomatoes to spare later in the season. I thought of last year’s bounty of cucumbers and hot peppers, sometimes too many for us to eat. I got excited about sharing with those neighbors, chatting, and learning their names. I thought about how small things can make a big difference.

When things are hard, there will be times when the sun shines on our faces and we have something to share. There will be fresh radishes or some other simple thing that arrives precisely when we need it and are open to really seeing it. And if I sound too optimistic and earnest today, let’s blame it on that radish with my coffee.

If there are simple things that have lifted you up recently, I’d love to hear about them. Maybe today is the day you have something to share.

Some of the fourplexes in south Minneapolis had big enough units to consider but none of them had any real outdoor space to speak of. All of them were beyond our budget. The triplex we planned to build would not have had much garden space either.

One of the things that makes the fourplex we found in north Minneapolis so unique is that not only are the units spacious, but this very large fourplex sits on a very large lot. This means that we have a lot of outdoor space.

Recently, I was looking for old photos of our neighborhood and was lucky enough to find a photo of our fourplex from the 1930s that partly explains why our lot is so big—there used to be a house where our back yard is!

If you look at the rear of the building in the photo above, you can see a house that looks like it sits very close to our back decks.

This is what our backyard looked like shortly after we moved in, as seen from the second floor deck on the back.

It is a massive yard and it is going to take a lot of work to recreate the space in the way that we have all decided we want it.

This summer, the plan is to move those center beds out and replace them with smaller beds on the south side of the house. The beds along the fence will remain. The beds on the side of the house will have edible berry bushes around them. We will eventually remove all the lilies and replace some of them with decorative grasses. If you are interested in more specifics, I’d have to consult the gardeners.

But we have already started and that is why I can say definitively that many hands make light work.

Two weekends ago, we dug up the hydrangeas and a crabapple tree on the south side of the house to make room for the new beds and bushes. Oh—and a chokecherry tree. I remember that! We also dug out the smaller bed of lilies and built a raised bed for our herb garden. I am happy to report that the hydrangeas, lilies, and the crabapple tree all found new homes.

This past weekend, Casper the Friendly Ford Ranger got his first real workout. We hauled mulch for the front yard and picked up a bunch of rocks to use to create a planned rain garden. We also removed not one, but two of the beds in the center of the backyard. We are making it happen. And though I am not a gardener and have never enjoyed working in the yard, it is so much less overwhelming and so much more fun when there are six of you doing the work.

There is so much work still to do, not just for this summer’s plan but to complete what we envision for the yard. But the same is true for our plans for the fourplex itself. We love to dream though, and we are really good at dreaming together.

Please enjoy this video of the “garlic dance,” and, in my defense, I fall at the end because the ground was uneven.

What do decisions look like when six people are involved? In this instance, we went around the table and each of us indicated whether we were on board with buying a truck and if so, what was important to us and what budget we have. Some of us just wanted a truck for hauling, so it could be older and cheaper. Some brought up the possibility of using it as a second car when needed, so asked if we might want to consider something a bit more expensive that could be used reliably when all the other cars were in use. After talking about the options, we decided to get the best used truck we could get in the $3,000 to $5,000 range with a definite preference for the cheapest. As our friend Kelly said, “Buying a truck just for hauling stuff is some bougie shit.” Can’t really argue with that.

I’m not sure how many trucks we considered and how many we looked at but eventually we found a smallish truck with a check engine light on for a couple thousand dollars. We deliberated and made an offer and it was accepted. I honestly think that truck was the perfect example of what can happen when people make decisions as a group. A few people get excited about an idea and then hype hype up the others and before you know it, you’ve made an offer on a truck with known problems, an ugly body, and questions about whether the title is clear. A truck that you probably wouldn’t have made an offer on if you were making a decision alone. Fortunately, the sale fell through.

Then, we found another one and a small group drove 45 minutes to test drive it. They loved it and sent many pics to the group chat and everyone agreed that we should buy it. They drove it home that night and we welcomed Casper the Friendly Ford Ranger to The Quad.

The following day, Raquel cleaned the inside and then she and Kristen drove it to a car wash where some kind young men washing their car pointed out that Casper was leaking radiator fluid. They drove it directly to their mechanic who said there was a hose and a belt that needed to be replaced.

A day and about $600 later, Kris picked it up to drive it home. She got a block away and the check engine light came on. She turned around and took it right back. I was convinced it just needed to be reset because one of my strengths/weaknesses is believing in the best possible outcome despite the odds against that. It did not need to be reset. It needed about $1200 worth of gaskets.

Luisa reached out to the dealer who sold us the truck and he agreed to repair it himself if we drove it back to him. So, Kris and Kristen drove it up last weekend and Luisa and Raquel headed out on Wednesday to pick it up. As they were driving to pick it up, he called to say when he was driving it, a brake line snapped. I texted the group chat, ”Maybe Casper isn’t so friendly after all.” I failed to use the ghost emoji, however, which was a missed opportunity.

To his credit, the seller fixed the gaskets brake line without charging us and as I write this, Luisa and Kristen are on their way to pick the truck up.

Was this stressful and frustrating? Of course. But by the time the brake line broke, all we could do was laugh. The truth is that group decisions don’t always turn out just as planned. But that’s true of all decisions. At least with a group, there is comfort in knowing that no matter what happens, you don’t have to deal with it alone (or pay for it all yourself).

“We bought a lot of garlic so don’t buy any.”

“I brought in your package.”

“Does anyone have any oregano?”

“I made lemon poundcake. Come get some if you want it.”

“Can you let Magali out?”

“We’re going to Costco. Do you need anything?”

These are some of the texts I love the most because they speak to the tiny perks of shared living and serve as ongoing reminders of day to day thoughtfulness.

I know a lot of people wonder what life looks like when you live with your friends, so, I thought I’d share some of the details of this past week at The Quad.

Last Sunday was National Banana Bread Day! I had bananas in the freezer and made banana bread that morning to share with everyone. And while I was doing that, Susan was making a frittata and had leftovers to share.

Later that night, we had an incredible potluck taco bar and everything was absolutely delicious - 10/10. We ate while talking business - everything from a shared calendar to updates from the Gardening Committee to mapping our breaker boxes to next steps for our basement remodeling project. And then we all headed to our units, grateful that traffic was light. Yeah - we make that joke a lot.

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We started trying to teach Cy to ring a doorbell to come inside. Spoiler alert: he is not interested.

Susan made the aforementioned lemon pound cake and I can only speak for myself but it was exactly what I needed after a couple of stressful days at work.

There were a lot of text exchanges about food. Someone needed eggs. Someone else had eggs! Someone needed nutritional yeast. No one had that. Someone wanted a beer. Someone else had one to give!

And yesterday, some of us got together to watch a movie but couldn’t decide on one so we watched The Secret Life of Animals. We concluded that baby seals are kind of cute but not very smart. However, mice and elephants are very smart. Lizards are cool but not cuddly and a tiny fish can be surprisingly interesting.

It was a pretty quiet week around here. But tomorrow we are mapping those breaker boxes which is quite an undertaking. Wild and crazy times ahead!

Community can be a Really Big Thing sometimes but what I’m enjoying most right now is finding it in small moments.

But as a grown up adult, I’m here to tell you that group projects can be pretty amazing and not just because no one is being graded.

Shortly after moving into The Quad, a group project presented itself in the form of one very sad stray cat. He wandered into our yard and plopped down on the sidewalk in the sun. We had seen other strays before but not this one. He was black but he was missing a lot of fur on his back and stomach, so, we assumed he had mange. He had numerous little bumps and scabs and one of his eyes was cloudy. He was a mess. We’re all animal lovers here but none of us wanted to touch him.

My friend (Kris) was the first to feed him but it was only a matter of time before one of us did. Since we already have cats (indoor), it was easy enough for us to start putting food out for him. He was very grateful and wanted to thank us by rubbing against our legs which we tolerated with squinted eyes and gritted teeth because we had no idea if whatever he had was contagious. From the moment we started feeding him, he never left. After a few days, another friend (Kristen) and I decided to take him to the Humane Society to see if he had a chip and with the hope that they could do a quick check up. We tried enticing him into the cat carrier so that we didn’t have to touch him but, eventually, I just picked him up and put him in and then washed my hands for at least two full rounds of the ABC song.

He did have a chip but it wasn’t registered but we learned that his birthdate was 4/17/15. He was nine! They couldn't fit him in for a check up, so, we ended up taking him to an emergency vet. He did not have mange (yay!) but he did have fleas and mites (boo!). The sores and scabs were from scratching. He also had a double ear infection. His bloodwork came back clean, so, we knew he wasn’t a risk to our other animals. The vet didn’t know what was up with his eye but said that it wasn’t causing him pain and that it might have been like that for awhile. We decided that we would get him fixed up and then find a home for him. Until then, he would be The Quad’s cat. We named him Cyclops. The upstairs folks kept him fed and watered but we all contributed to his vet bills.

By late August, he was looking pretty good. His fur was growing back, though still a little patchy. His ear infection had been cleared after two rounds of drops. He would follow us through the yard and he got lots of love. At our housewarming party, we mentioned to a few people that we were looking for a home for him and a couple of different people expressed interest. However, we kept finding reasons why it might not be a good match.

As summer turned to fall, we started thinking about the coming winter because we knew he couldn’t live outside during a Minnesota winter. We bought him a heated outdoor house to buy ourselves a little time to find him a permanent home and he loved that on the cool nights of early fall. But in early October, we finally got together to talk about Cy and his future and…we decided he was already home. I’m sure no one reading this is shocked.

So, meet our collective cat - Cyclops, a.k.a Cy, a.k.a Clopsy.

He still has his wonky eye but he has the most lustrous coat and is the most loving cat I’ve ever met. I guess what I’m saying is that, sometimes, group projects turn out even better than you imagine. Though the labor and monetary contributions may differ from person to person at times, we’ve all had a hand in helping Cy become the healthy, beautiful cat that he is. And though no one is grading us…I bet if Cy could talk he would give us an A+.

If you have any questions about practical community, communal living, or Cy, please let me know in the comments.