Fine Tuning

Finally the spring season is slowing down. Of course there is still plenty of work to do, but the pace of the work now bends to the heat, the continued blessing of afternoon showers, and the absence of deadlines. I especially love the leisure time of early light, before the sun comes up. The temperatures are muted then, as well as the colors, the wind, my thoughts, and the length of the "to do" list. I can just look, enjoy, and take some pictures, wherever I am.

 Now I have the time and inclination to step back a bit and let the natural symmetry flow....I've also made the choice to spend my time listening to music I have been missing.

It seems to calm my thinking, to mellow my moods, and to open up new rhythms.  When I can relax and step back as I step out, I see interesting patterns- like musical themes- echoing, modulating, recapitulating.

 A secondary theme includes the rich abundance of buds and their resulting fruits or cones. I am not sure I have noticed how often they line up up like staccato notes.

 Even raindrops will hang in linear unison like eighth notes that alternate and repeat.

Needles appear and expand into flowers; pendulous branches appear to be ghostly reminders of a haunting melody. Round, full , solid notes stand us in the center of the natural recital. Such a rich concert of magical musical phrases and colors deserves our attention from time to time.



T

“The earth has music for those who listen.”

― George Santayana

Red Threads

"An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet regardless of time, place or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break." -Chinese proverb

I am lucky. At least that's what I think most of the time. Not only do I put my fingers on the pulse of  a part of nature every day. I also brush those fingertips across the arteries of the plant lover's world to measure the heartbeats of lovely people I've never met. I've been saying for some time that real plant people are the best. I've got loads of good friends and customers and acquaintances that prove that axiom over and over.

But over the years, I've had increasing anecdotal evidence that plant lovers are all bound to each other by esp, or biology, or by genetics, psychology, or ancestral memory. Or maybe it is just a red thread.

For instance: I've had a year long casual correspondence with a woman from Arkansas. She came to me via my website when she wanted to purchase some Hydrangea quercifolia 'Harmony', one of the more unusual Oakleaf Hydrangeas. I had a few left that I could ship, but she wanted a dozen or more and I was almost out. Instead of looking elsewhere, she said she would wait if I would have more in the spring. Spring came, and she contacted me to make sure I was ready for her order. As noted on my calendar, I was ready, and could ship the plants out that end of March, when her new garden area would be ready. So, we finalized the order and shipping date, and she told me about the new Oriental style bridge in her garden that would have these Hydrangeas as a backdrop. I responded politely that it sounded lovely, and that I hoped the winter had not been too cold there and that spring would soon be here. And she responded back,"This has been not the best winter because I lost my husband on Jan. 29th.  So, I plan to garden with a vengeance and keep really busy this Spring. "

No longer was this a simple business transaction. Anyone whose plan to deal with grief was to "garden with a vengeance" was now a family member to me; a shared soul. It did not matter that I knew nothing of her, or her husband, or her garden, or even Arkansas! Instantly, I felt I had known her for years, watched her bear the loss, and now I was sure that those plants she'd been patiently waiting for me to send her were part of her recovery plan before she even knew she would really need them.

Or this: Early last fall, I was contacted by a woman who wanted me to come speak to her garden club in Tucker- about an hour and a half away. I explained that I would consider it, but needed to charge a small fee for my time and gas, etc. She said her club was made up of elderly ladies, and that they rarely paid speaker fees. So I offered to have them come out for a tour of the nursery and a talk on any topic for free. She continued to explain that the ladies were mostly homebodies, and many were downsizing to apartments and condos. Many did not really even own gardens anymore. I was discouraged, and said I would think about it. But secretly, I figured this would be a waste of my time.
About two weeks later, the woman from the phone call and a friend drove out to the nursery to try to talk me into doing the springtime talk to her group. They both seemed impressed with our place. We walked and talked, and wandered around topics that might appeal to the group. I offered the idea of container gardening as an easy means to keep even an apartment dweller in touch with their love of digging in the dirt and watching plants grow. They agreed, and said they would find a way to collect the fees if I would just come in April. So I put it on the calendar.

Fall proceeded into winter, and soon, it was April. I was overwhelmed with the spring rush to get the nursery ready, the coming sales, the "too tired" longer days. But now was that morning to give the time I had promised to this group of non-gardening garden clubbers. Why had I been so stupid to fall for their entreaties? What would it get me, besides a little farther behind?
I loaded up the truck with some demo plants, a pot or two, some soil, and a small planted hypertufa pot that I had agreed to donate for them to raffle off to help pay me. I had a chip on my shoulder, but I had agreed, so I was just going to do it. I drove in through rush hour traffic to the meeting site at a private residence.
When I got there, the small 60's house with the flag was easy to find- it had cars up and down the street on either side of it. I carried my plants in to find the room packed like sardines full of smiling faces. I got started, and I could see by those faces that they were hanging on every word. They had questions. They had comments, suggestions, and stories. Someone yelled out "Road Trip!" when I told them where the nursery was. One woman would not let me leave without buying the first two plants I offered as a combination. Another compared notes about her hypertufa recipe and mine. A third, the winner of my raffled pot, insisted that she needed to

"touch" its creator so she would have good luck growing it. She gave me a big bear hug to seal the deal. After a big round of applause, I packed up the few plants and pots that were left, and headed home.
How could I have been so stupid? I thought I would waste my precious time. But instead, by sharing my passion for gardening, I touched the red thread in each of those lifetime gardeners, and all of a sudden, we were destined to meet that day. I've never had a more appreciative and attentive audience in all my years of giving talks to groups. And they reminded me how much my passion must be shared to be fully enjoyed.
So now I am trying to remember: no matter how tangled or stretched my ego and patience get, that thread will never break. Gosh, am I lucky.

Another Step on the Road to Damascus

Epiphany. Bombshell. Lightening Bolt. Flash. Revelation. Eye-Opener. Whatever you want to call it, I was struck yesterday. I had worked hard, enjoyed a bit of warm winter sun, tired myself out, and thought I would take a few pictures in the last light before I headed inside for the evening. I showered, changed, and headed back to my computer to download the photos. That's where it happened.

Quince Bud

 I looked at my photos and realized that I really don't see anything the way I used to. I've had these flashes before and remember realizing the difference as I learned about love, as I studied plants, as I raised my children. All that has been a cumulative endeavor, and I am aware of it as it gains momentum in my head.

Chaffin- Bluets in gravel

Yesterday was different. When I looked at the photos I had taken, it was as if I were seeing with

Moss Wash

Susan Cofer's eyes as the pictures came out of my camera.
 (http://www.high.org/Art/Exhibitions/Susan-Cofer.aspx)
 

" I've always been fascinated by the tiniest of things......'

Cofer- Levavi Oculos

Chaffin- Foggy Morning

Astonished, I looked again. Then I started thinking about what I had been doing. In some real sense, I had just been cataloging the day, the plants that were "saying" something; just keeping up the record.

Cofer-  Approaching Eternal

Chaffin- pine wood block

 But I was also looking at them in an abstract way, as a part of the natural world, as universal shapes, figures, motions. Now don't get me wrong. I am NOT saying I have discovered the secret to life, the treasure of Pandora's box, or any other such maxim. Nor am I giving any specific definition to anyone else's artwork.


 I have realized in a quick look at a few pictures how art has trained my eye and sharpened my view of the world. Or maybe how  the natural world is more and more now my art.

Cofer- Fall Decomposition

Chaffin-  Camellia  'Sawada's Mahoghany'

It is not quite that simple, of course. And is not a new idea, I know. I have always been captivated by Ansel Adams' dramatic photography of natural wonders, and seduced by the rich, raw, romantic, rhythmic paintings of Georgia O'Keefe .

But I have always held the artwork out as an exercise in mental expansion, without realizing that the vision of the artists would seep into the new open spaces in my mind.

Chaffin- table and benches

Cofer- Untitled Red Driftwood

This prompted me to look thru some Georgia O'Keefe pictures as I was thinking about this coincidence. I found this quote:



"When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it's your world for the moment. I want to give that world to someone else."
            Georgia O'Keefe

O'Keefe- The White Flower

Chaffin -White Camellia

More than anything else these days, I find that I want to share the wonder of plants with someone else. It is the best gift I can muster

And, as Ansel Adams said 

"My last word is that it all depends on what you visualize"

My letter to Santa

 I gave myself an early Christmas present this week. I had been good about weeding and organizing, and the long warm fall has allowed us to get a good start on all the winter tasks. So I made arrangements to go visit several of my gardening buddies' gardens. The weather synched perfectly with my calendar- rain the two days before, followed by brilliant sun and warm breezes. The itinerary looked very comfortable, and all involved were willing.

I think there aren't enough tours of gardens in the "off" season. This is a time to find the bones of the garden- the strength that underlies all the splash in spring and summer. If there's nothing to look at in your garden now, you need to stop now and figure out how you will fix that. If you're putting your energies into more bang for your spring buck, you're wasting your money. Without the proper frame and foundation on which to build, the effort falls flat. So go look now; look everywhere; and take your gardening friends along for the fun of it all.

Three of the four gardens I visited had water views. Yet all three were completely different in focus, terrain, and mood. First, there was Jerry and Lance's magical "Avalon". This is not a new garden, but not an old one, either. These two "energizer bunnies" have cleared, cut, dragged, dug, heaved, hoed, sowed, excavated, renovated, innovated, planted, replanted, pruned, and prayed over every bit of the ground here in Avalon. As Jerry describes her sleeping hostas and bulbs and woodland wildflowers, we take note of the evergreen ferns bordered by species and special Rohdea japonica, boxwood (all rooted by Lance), hellebores, hollies, azaleas, and other treasures. Throughout the beds, there are hints of themes...King Arthur's burial ground, magic Dragons, whiffs of the Orient, virgin forests, and ancient ruins. So much to see and feel as we walk thru!! But it's not all green and utilitarian. Jerry walks us by each and every one of her magnificent conifer collection, and we note color, shape, progress, form, culture, source. And that brings us to reminisce about some of the garden tours and trips we've shared and enjoyed. What a lovely way to spend a warm December afternoon!

The next day I headed to Milledgeville to make the rounds of Cathy, Lynn and Barbie's gardens. I had ignored all the lame protests from the first two, because I knew that they'd been buying oodles of plants to put somewhere! And I was right.
 Both of these gardens are on a large lake, but the orientation of both garden and gardener is entirely different. "Gardening is a mirror of the heart", said Elizabeth Lawrence.  
 Truly we could see their hearts and styles.

 Cathy has a grand, wide view of the lake and has built her garden to be a companion. Her lake life is casual, soothing, and also playful. So she has woven some of her favorite and most fun conifers into beds of color, shapes, and sizes that will add to the lake atmosphere instead of separating herself from it visually. Many of her conifers are small, while some have a high if narrow space in which to shine. But no plant goes ignored. And a few are just there for fun.

Moving on to Lynn's- just down on the same lake, I found an entirely different atmosphere, but an equally charming garden. Tiny little Lynn has also cleared "the woods" of many trees, weeds, unwanted and overgrown inherited plants with her bare hands and the stubbornness and balance of a mountain goat. She has, instead, lit what's left with amazing conifers, callicarpas, ferns and other companions. From her house, she has a straight on view of the lake, but on each side, she has surrounded herself  by beacons of yellows, blues, textures and hues on both the "up" and "down" hillsides. Absolutely amazing in sun and shadow.

And to round it all out, we return to Barbie's. She's an old hand at gardening, garden touring, working until every muscle aches and every branch bends in the right direction. But it is always so much fun to see what's new since last time.....No water view, but many others are here. Succulents and conifers, grasses, and such a wide array of evergreens- trees, shrubs, and perennials. More color and texture than you see in most spring gardens, and roses to boot! Her conifer collection is growing...in quality and quality, and there's always some new little such and such tucked in here or there.

 Yesterday's find was definitely the Tetrapanax papyriferus in full bloom. What a luxurious, tropical looking hardy plant that is usually a textural accent, but took center stage with it's very late flower clusters.

There are lots of reasons to visit other peoples' gardens. There's always something new to learn, something new to notice, some new idea to steal......But the very best reason is to share stories and experiences and visions with good friends. In troubled times like these, we could all use a little more shared enjoyment and less, well, you know.....

I can give you a long list of quotes that reflect this idea of the value of gardening and gardeners:

"Though an old man, I am but a young gardener." - Thomas Jefferson

  "Show me your garden and I shall tell you what you are".-  Alfred Austin 

 Maybe the best is one another from Elizabeth Lawrence:

 "No one can garden alone".  


Santa, please put that one under the tree. 

Travel is So Broadening- Part II

Gardening gives one back a sense of proportion about everything - except itself.  ~
May Sarton, Plant Dreaming Deep, 1968


I don't go anywhere without looking for gardens. Of course I have a list of too many to possibly see in the time I have. Of course I push to see as many as possible. Sometimes the very best experiences are in gardens that aren't even on the lists. But I have never visited a garden without learning something. And even as I learn more and more, I realize how much more there to absorb, in both heart and mind.

I was so fortunate to have the chance to tour with it's owner the very best conifer garden I will ever see . This is a private garden outside of Leeds that is the labor of love for David Ward. You'll see pictures of his garden in Adrian Bloom's book Gardening with Conifers, and in other gardening publications. You can see photos here that will give you some idea of the scope of plant material there is to absorb and to process. But let me tell you, as amazing as this garden is, the best lessons are in the heart of the gardener, not in the plans or plants.

David Ward is an unassuming, even modest, man. His goal in gardening is not to impress, but to explore and enjoy. He reads all he can find about conifers, and imagines ways to procure those selections that strike his fancy. Or, as he describes with a twinkle in his eye:  "I've got to have that one". Part of the adventure is actually getting his hands on the plant itself. Next is to find the perfect spot for his new baby. From then on, it's a matter of lovingly cultivating to settle his new selection in, while carefully watching it's progress, and waiting for the next "gotta have". In a garden that is an acre absolutely packed with specimen conifers and companions, this is a dizzying task that he accomplishes with great relish and humility. Clearly, he has achieved a "sense of proportion" about his garden and about himself. I feel honored to have visited the garden and the man with such balanced perspective.

No two gardens are the same.  No two days are the same in one garden.  ~Hugh Johnson

I also like to visit the same gardens over and over. It is hard for me to pile on one new garden after another without getting overloaded and almost numbed by the experience. One of my favorite gardens is at Scampston Hall Walled Garden in Yorkshire near Malton. http://www.scampston.co.uk/ This is an old walled garden that was restored and redesigned by Piet Oudolf in 2000. This is the only Oudolf garden I have ever seen, but in visiting in 2007 and revisiting this year, I have confirmed the skills of the designer, and also filtered through some of the  intricacies of the concepts as the garden grows and matures.

Waves of flowers, waves of grasses, waves of yew hedges, perennials, fruits and berries spill out onto the formal paths and into my memory. Contrasts of color, shape, texture, formality and mood are reflected in every facet of the garden. Although I certainly relish the opportunity to have visited twice, I selfishly wish I could watch its evolution every day of the year.

Maybe then I could begin to appreciate the genius of the designer, and actually see his imagination grow into the true proportions of the garden. Or maybe it's just an excuse to come back.

Travel is So Broadening...Part I

“To my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel is 

to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time, 

to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted.” –

 Bill Bryson

It's good to get away. I mean really away. Away from phones and email; away from laundry and grass cutting; away from television, radio, the mail, the bank, the bills.

It takes a while to really get away. You can fly 3000 miles from home, but it takes the accumulation of seconds and minutes and hours to knock all those attention grabbers out from the front of your brain. 

This September we flew to Manchester, England to visit the Yorkshire Dales. We've been there many times. I can't seem to get enough. Am I just an unadventurous traveler afraid of a foreign language, or is there something that draws me back there over and over?

 I've been thinking about what lures me back to Swaledale 
time after time.....

or maybe I am just a reincarnated ewe with a pretty good biological memory.

It's not enough to just turn all that regular stuff off. The deprivation is almost painful, and certainly distracting in itself. What I need is scenery that wipes all the dusty corners of my brain clean.  The views there are warm, lush, green, inviting, stark, wild, primitive, huge, ancient. This land is bigger than everything I know. It takes hold and pulls all the insignificant clutter out my life, and 

leaves me fresh, raw, and hypersensitive.

 
Here it is all about light, color, shape and substance. Wind, sun, and rain add to the sensuality of the experience. Suddenly, we are quiet, full, almost exploding. So much to take in and nowhere for our shuttered brains to put it. But staying in that landscape, walking, driving, staring out the window slowly opens it all up-like a shot of  inhaler for asthma- constricted lungs.
The longer I can be there, the more I see, the easier I breathe, the more in touch I feel. That touch is, of course, with the natural world around me. 

But it carries over to the touch of my husband's hand on my back, or a first frothy sip of an English cask ale on my upper lip, the lilt and plod of a Dales accent in my ears while eavesdropping on tall tales at the pub, 

and the crisp delicate flesh of a fresh caught haddock and chips on my tongue. 

Even mushy peas can taste good at times like these.  

The aim is always to see and do, 

to rest and relax, to let go.

But it is not a given. It is that opening up that is the "away", 
and makes the rest of the reward of travel possible. 

 

Letting go...Holding on...

 In Blackwater Woods- Mary Oliver

Look, the trees

are turning

their own bodies

into pillars

of light,

are giving off the rich

fragrance of cinnamon

and fulfillment,

the long tapers

of cattails

are bursting and floating away over

the blue shoulders

of the ponds,

and every pond,

no matter what its

name is, is

nameless now.

Every year

everything

I have ever learned

in my lifetime

leads back to this: the fires

and the black river of loss

whose other side

is salvation,

whose meaning

none of us will ever know.

To live in this world

you must be able

to do three things:

to love what is mortal;

to hold it

against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

and, when the time comes to let it go,

to let it go.

I lost my cat this month. She had been a constant companion at the nursery for the past ten years. She was a great hunter, and fiercely territorial. She was a pitiful throw away who turned into a beautiful animal. She was sweet, and tough, and loyal. She found us, and decided to stay. We used to say that she was the best dog we ever had.

I am still a little sad. I still look for her when I go to work. I am trying to let it go.  But as I struggle a little missing my beloved cat, I am also trying to remind myself how rich and full my life is. And as I march quickly toward the mortality of my 60th birthday, I find myself paying more and more attention to counting each and every one of those blessings.

I guess that's pretty much a constant theme here. But it is still hard to remember. It is strange to me how many little bits of interaction with a cat I must have taken for granted in a simple day at work. I now see every one of them as tiny holes in my day. If that could be true with a pet, I am almost afraid to imagine how many opportunities I have missed with those activities and people and places I love. Here are some of the plugs for those holes, inspired by Norah Ephron....:

- Do more reading. I just finished a witty, funny, remarkably down to earth book by Nora Ephron- I Feel Bad About my Neck. Please, if you want to touch base with what really matters in life, read this book. I laughed, I cried, I took her perspective and wrote her imaginary letters about how she wrote the chapter on death.....and how she felt about it now that she was dead.

- Take a vacation. Sometimes we work too hard. Sometimes we haven't enough money. Sometimes we think we'll just wait for a better time, when things settle down. Hogwash. So I am using that 60th birthday as the excuse we need to make it happen. We'll visit our favorite spots in the Yorkshire Dales and the Lake District in England, and then we'll visit a new area of England- Devon- that is loaded with coastline, gardens, hiking trails and all new scenery and roundabouts to conquer. Oh, and new beer to sample!

- Spend more time in my own garden- I spend lots of time producing plants for other people's gardens. I love what I do. But, like the feet of the cobbler's children, my garden is somewhat bare. So, in this horribly hot, dry, unpleasant summer, I am having a wonderful time putting plants in the ground, laying out paths, and daring the deer to eat that much.

- Make an effort.  Since we moved out of Atlanta, we have lost that close daily relationship with some really good friends. Some friends are even farther away. We can all weather the distance, and still remain good friends. But sometimes it just takes some effort to make the connection stick from time to time. Can't do it all at once, but I am trying to make the time and organize the occasions. Doesn't matter what we do. It matters that we do something.

- Get rid of the negative. This is not an idea that is original with me, but a sentiment that I embraced as soon as I heard it, and one I am reaffirming now. I am a passionate player, and not necessarily a team player, when the team not competitively one for all. I am also not a fan of the "southern way" of obfuscating reality to make it more palatable. There are negative influences in our lives that we bear instead of changing. Make the change now, and get rid of that negative time and energy drain.

- Say "Thank You" more . Just because.

- Hold hands more with my husband.  Nothing could be more important, or more comforting than holding hands with my best and dearest friend.

- from the Bucket List - "find the joy in your life"

So as I plug those holes, and let go, I am taking a little time to recommit to taking note of my very special world and it's momentary gems. I know my own life depends on it.