What a difference a rain makes

I am stuck inside today. It is raining now, and they say it plans to rain for the rest of the day, at least. Does that sound like a complaint? Well, ok. Maybe a little. But after years of drought coupled with intense heat, I shouldn't complain. And after time in the last month to visit gardens in the area, I am reminded- finally- of the reasons for this blog title. We've had such an abundance of good soaking rain this winter and spring. And it continues now into summer. 

Gardens are really lush this year; 

flowers are huge and abundant; colors are vibrant and rich. 

If you'll permit me this little mental exercise, I think it's been a good thing to have been so deprived. Hydrangeas, for example, have bloomed every year, even in the worst drought months. I've gotten used to small flower heads, dull colors, and quick fade.

 This year I can hardly believe the difference, and it is so energizing!


Once again I see why this is a favorite of southern gardeners.
I am almost compelled to get my tape measure out to boast about bloom size. I've been so much more attentive to pruning, because this year, the plants are growing instead of just surviving.


Textures and colors grab my attention. Conifers have been particularly robust and statuesque. While they love good drainage, it is easy to see that they love the extra water, too.

Take the time to look at the details. Take the time to share them with your gardening friends. The rain might stop any day now, but we can enjoy the results of yesterday's rain today.

Sometimes it takes rain
To make the flowers grow
Sometimes it takes real pain
Before real joy one knows
Sometimes it takes tomorrows
To understand days gone by
Sometimes before the laughter
There comes heavy sigh
Sometimes it takes the midnight hour
To value morning light
Sometimes it takes the longest mile
Before things come insight
Sometimes you often wonder
Why your heart can get so sore
But its the rocky paths in life
That makes you cherish the smooth roads more!

- Unknown

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.