What's in a Kitchen?

Last spring, I quit my job. It was the right time, just weeks after our last child graduated college. I moved into a 250 square foot storefront with a full bathroom. I put curtains up to keep people from seeing in and tried to go to work doing my art. Eight months later, I had to admit that the space had worked for some purposes but had not worked for other ones. I don't think I got one piece done. While living there though, I kept creeping over to an available space ten times bigger, peeping through its big factory-like windows. After several months, I asked the landlord to let me see the space. It was love at first sight but I would wait several more months before moving into it.

Now, I sit on an early spring day writing at a small oak table given me by a good friend and fellow junker. The table functioned in the old space and in this one as kitchen table, preparation and cooking surface, and storage for various cleaning supplies kept beneath it. Utensils live in three ceramic containers of different sizes and colors and a white metal one with a picture of grapes, an apple, and daisies.

Within my reach, from an old metal stool where I sit, are raisin bran, five types of Kashi cereal, and Nature's Path Coconut and Chia Granola. Adjacent to the table are two wooden crates (new ones), atop of which sit three cutting boards (excessive!) and Folger's Coffee. Behind the crates, a dorm-size refrigerator containing lots of eggs, cheese, milk, butter, sour cream, onions, and sweet peppers is perched atop a metal cart bearing the name Lakeside Mfg--Milwaukee, Wisconsin. On the cart's two shelves, I have dishes and bowls. The bottom shelf has room for two large plastic bins  containing rices and pastas, oils and vinegars, and a small straw basket containing cloth napkins.

Shelves in new kitchen

Against the wall that runs parallel to the oak table, there are two small shelves, one for cups and glasses and a kitschy empty cookie jar and the other for Bigelow, Red Rose, and Harney&Sons teas, two pretty teapots, neither of which I plan to use, various spices including Watkins black pepper, Amish Coconut Oil, two cans of tuna packed in oil, and local honey to which I'm seriously addicted. Above the shelves are two pictures, a framed tile of red capped mushrooms and an unframed painting of a maple leaf.

I love this space! It defines me, and I am able to work, meaning write, here because of its simplicity. Its small scale comforts rather than overwhelming me.

Before the table is a view of my yard, which is fenced and private but for the neighbor's and my own gigantic plastic trashcan provided by the town. One will have to go!

 I have planted already, last weekend, because I could not resist, pepper and tomato plants, lavender and rosemary, all of which will end up on the table and cutting boards, slowly cut to release their aromas.

This makeshift kitchen that I created in a day is teaching me about how little is needed to cook and to live. While it is true that the entire storefront is huge, more than 1000 square feet, I only live in the back portion; the front is to be used for a community of artists I hope to organize here. This new life belongs it seems to me to these times, to creative economy--tiny homes, vandwelling, Prius Living. Truly, less is more.