still lives

I once got into an argument with a newspaper photographer about the photos on my blog (and the photos he had taken for a newspaper article about me). He said my blog was a like a still life painting: no people, no movement, no life. He had a point there, though my choice to leave people out of it is because a lot of people don’t feel like having their faces plastered all over the internet. The same photographer also said that people who live in communes are just asking to be photographed and plastered all over the media, that that is part of why they do it. Ummm. Right. *Shakes head.* Irritating as the man was, I had to think of him as I was taking photos this morning.

It’s been a long minute since I’ve given you a view into some daily Wagenplatz life. And since I know that the Wagentplatz concept is the reason that many of you come a’visiting, I procured a few new still lives while the water for the dishes was heating up.


My kitchen set-up, the way it looks when I’m about to do the dishes. I can’t wait to get a stove that doesn’t run on electricity.


Very little has survived in my garden this year. But these flowers–whose name I have no idea how to spell in German, a fact that is preventing me from finding out the name in English for you, but they are edible flowers that taste a lot like horseradish–have flourished, hopping the garden fence and spreading out into the flower-bed-that-didn’t-sprout-even-though-we-planted-it-twice.


The outcast chicken. It was sick, so the other chickens (as chickens will do, beastly hierarchical beings that they are) started picking on it, pecking it at, not letting it into the coop at night, and not letting it anywhere near the food. It’s come to realize that humans are nicer than other chickens, and spends a lot of time creeping closer and closer to the inside of my trailer via my tiny veranda.


Some velvety purple flowers that appeared in the grass one day, and are slowly climbing my tallbike.


Five of the seven not-so-small anymore baby chickens. If only I had remembered to take photos of them while they were still small and cute. They have already become ornary and fond of fighting.

0 Comments on “still lives

  1. the flowers are “kapuzinerkresse” in german, in english i know only the botanical name and it’s “nasturtium”. but i think there are more familiar names too…

  2. Yes, those are nasturtiums.
    You can make delicious vinegar with them. Pour hot, almost boiling, rice vinegar over a quart jar of flowers. Steep over night, strain.
    The ovaries after the blossom drop can be pickled and made into capers.
    Young leaves are good in salad or stir-fry.

  3. lovely still lifes, don’t have to see people to learn about them, their stuff tells a story

  4. Yes, its Kapuzinerkresse. I couldn’t figure out how to spell the Kapuziner part to save my life when I was writing this. 🙂 Never heard their English name before though.

    Tess: I agree about the stuff telling people’s stories. That and all the words that are actually the site’s main focus…heh. Like a said, that photographer was an irritating guy. But he did lend me some nice books.

  5. I always think it’s fine to put up with a couple of irritating statements if you get to take home some nice books. 🙂
    Good luck with your pregnancy, I hope you are done with the dreadful morning sickness!

  6. Not sure how I stumbled upon your wonderful blog this week, but it’s so fascinating. Most likely had something to do with searching for fixing up tiny dwellings/kitchens, etc. Anyway, thank you for some well-written material. My husband and I bought a teeny one-room cottage (my mother calls it a shack)in the spring and we are trying to winterize it this summer/fall. The pictures of your wagon are lovely. Your commentary on the wasteful nature of society is dead on. We just finished school, but somehow ended up with just enough cash to buy this little shack. It’s an incredibly liberating feeling to be in your twenties and own your dwelling mortgage-free. Even if it is a shack, wagon, shoebox…

    Thank you for sharing your story.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.