One of the most fraught decision to make when traveling (other than where to go and how to get there and where to stay and what to do when you're there and, of course, how to pay for it all) is what to bring for journaling supplies. (I wrote about this some in my Quebec City Travel Journal post.) For our trip to Puerto Rico earlier this month, I opted to go with a Sillman & Birn Zeta Series 5.5 x 8.5 landscape journal. The paper was the perfect balance of heavy enough to take a little water but not so thick and toothy that I didn't want to write on it. At 26 sheets (52 pages), it was the perfect length for a 10-day trip (~5 pages/day plus a couple bonus pages).

I'd been inspired by this series of sketches (above) that I saw at the Farnsworth Museum in the fall, and I wanted to try something similar in my travel journal. Unfortunately, I neglected to take a picture of the interpretive sign, so I don't know who the artist is (it was part of the "Joan Jonas: An Island Departure with Nancy Holt and Robert Smithson" exhibition, so probably--maybe--Joan Jonas?) or what the medium was. It looks like a combination of colored pencil (or possibly pastel) and watercolor, possibly even watercolor pencil. I played around with watercolor pencils (which I already owned), and was able to create a similar effect, but the colors weren't as vibrant as I wanted, so I bought myself a set of Derwent Inktense Pencils and brought those, along with a water brush, a pencil, a few pens, a pencil sharpener (used once or twice but you'd miss it if you didn't have it), and my Ivy photo sticker printer, plus a few other items I never used (ruler, watercolor set, washi tape). The pencils take up a lot more space than a tiny watercolor kit, but are so much more manageable and dry much faster.

Before we left on the trip, I put a map of our destination on the first page of the journal, as I always do, but this time did it in the style of (possibly?) Joan Jonas. I love this loose, scribbly way of drawing. It's so freeing, and I employed it on later pages, as you will see. On our return, I added a photo sticker of myself in front of a mural at one of our guest houses and some pressed flowers, including a big, beautiful bunch of bougainvillea. 

I'm working on striking a better balance between text and images. Of course my journals lean more heavily toward words, because I'm a writer, but I'm pretty happy with where I've landed ratio-wise with this one. An interesting thing I've discovered, however, is that at the same time that I've tried to make my travel journals more visually appealing, what I write in them becomes less personal, because, I suppose, I envision wanting to share my sketches with others. Not that I imagine anyone would sit down and try to decipher my handwriting (or even care what I wrote about being irritated with one of my family members, as a totally random example). 

Most of this journaling took place in the evenings, after we returned to our apartment or guest house post-dinner. The boys would play cards and I would draw and write, which worked out perfectly, because only four can play cribbage, and by the end of the day I was tired of human interaction. I found it hard to draw on-site from life, because we were so often on the move, walking or hiking or snorkeling, so as a consequence, most of my drawings are from photographs. But I did manage a couple en plein air sketches:

In conclusion: I loved the Stillman & Birn sketchbook and will use these again. I loved using the Inktense pencils, sometimes in combination with pen, sometimes alone, and especially with this loose, scribbly style of drawing. I want to draw more from real life when I travel (I might need to go on a sketching holiday to make that happen). And I want to write more interestingly, if I don't feel I can write more personally.

December's reading list is all over the map--with no coherent theme or throughline (is there ever in my reading lists? No, but this one seems extra weird to me. How about you?

Poetry
I've really gotten out of the habit of reading poetry lately, but I was in the local anarchist bookstore during December's art walk (yes, there really is such a shop in Gardiner, Maine, of all places, and they also sell yummy bread) and I saw the latest poetry collection by an acquaintance of mine: Samaa Abdurraqib's Towards a Retreat. I snapped it up, because while I'd interacted with Samaa in other settings (mostly naturalist-based), I hadn't yet read any of her work. I was not disappointed! It's a beautiful collection. I especially enjoyed the "Upta Camp" series.

Fiction
I picked up Jessica Elicott's latest in her WWII lady constable series, Murder on the Home Front, at Maine's crime writing conference back in September. I always enjoy Elicott's work, and this one was both entertaining and interesting in its peek into life in a coastal town during the war.

My sister sent me The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year a while back, and I saved it for Christmas season. It's really a romcom with some crime novel elements (a locked room mystery and a stranded in a country house trope), but it was a rollicking good read, and I think it did both genres proud!

Nonfiction
Here's where my list starts to get kookie! In the service of reading down my TBR pile, I read Mama's Girl by Veronica Chambers, which a friend sent to me several years ago. It's a memoir of a young Black woman who grew up in New York City with a single mom and absent/angry dad. What it's really about is navigating and repairing a fraught and difficult mother-daughter relationship. I really enjoyed it, and as my friend noted, it was a quick read!

Also from the tall TBR stack: All Souls by Michael Patrick Macdonald, which is the harrowing account of growing up in the projects in South Boston in the 70s and 80s, when Whitey Bulger's gangs controlled everything. You know from the beginning of the book that several of Macdonald's siblings are going to die over the course of the narrative, so it's just a matter of biting your nails as you read and asking, Why doesn't somebody do something?

Still in the family stories department, but in a completely different vein, I picked up two David Sedaris books I found at a used bookstore (probably because I needed a few laughs after reading All Souls, and living in 2025 America): Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim and Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls. These are both fairly old, and I'm sure I've read at least one of them before, but they're good for a giggle if you need to lighten the mood these days (who doesn't?).

Finally, I read Deep Things out of Darkness: The History of Natural History by John G.T. Anderson. John was my biology professor in college (Bio I and II as well as Conservation Biology). I was expecting the book to be heavy going--not because John is dull, but because it's sold (and priced!) as a textbook. However it's every bit as charming and engaging as John's real life lectures. Even though he refers to his personal life rarely in the book (noting places he's visited or lived, for example), his personality and especially his enthusiasm shines through on every page. I love how he made it into a conversation among the various naturalists profiled--noting whether and how they knew each other (and liked each other) or might have read their predecessors' work. It's unfortunate that it wasn't marketed (and priced!) as a trade book, because I'm certain armchair naturalists and historians would find it as delightful as I did.