Making a house 
a home.

Years ago, during the “chicken boom” (can we call it that?), when everyone was getting chickens and adorable coops were all over Pinterest, I wanted chickens too—and could think of nothing more lovely that heading out each morning in soft light and dew-drenched grass to gather fresh eggs for breakfast. In my fantasy I’m carefree and holding a basket to collect the eggs and life is lovely. And possibly sepia-colored. Naturally. #nofilter.

Then I heard about the chicken poop. Specifically, that there was lots of it. Being hardly a fan of poop and thus deterred, my chicken-fantasy went the way of the egg (read: it rolled off the counter and fell splat).

But it turns out, if you’re thinking “green,” Michele Carr’s essay on page 38 tells us that the poop may be one of the best parts about having chickens. The chicken’s waste is garden manure; manure grows food. For the chickens! That’s just green life—green living—going on like that, in one eternal round.

In this, our Green Issue, we show how things aren’t always what they seem, and how sometimes (most times) they’re just gosh darn useful. You will find repurposed books with covers gleaned from vintage childhood tomes, and the transformative cycle of local green waste, and the dream-filled future of a creative downtown space, utilizing an old Draper mainstay and making it new.

The issue highlights what things can be, on the second go-round.

Do you love that as much as I do?

I grew up in northern California, a place green before we called it that, where elementary school art class would include making paper from discarded classroom scraps, and though rough and textured, was so fun to send a note on; and a shopping trip to San Francisco would require toting around a small shopping basket filled with lunch in the crook of my arm, and the goodness came after lunch was eaten, when the basket, emptied, now housed a new treasure acquired along the afternoon.

So there’s a nostalgic sensibility, I guess, of liking the idea of what comes next, and that possibility. But also, the life after life concept just feels like a gift… Never intended, a simple bonus.

It may also be where my sepia-colored egg basket fantasy comes from. But with or without eggs tucked inside, I’m holding tight to it, to the possibility of what comes next.

Enjoy your April, friends!

Brooke Benton, Editor