Happy Valentine’s Day!
Savor the sweetness in each moment, and the lightness of just bee-ing.
garden
Pink
I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. I believe in kissing, kissing a lot. I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong. I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles.–Audrey Hepburn
Today’s theme for #AugustBreak2019 is PINK. Susannah Conway founded this event several years ago; and while I’ve always enjoyed the artistic challenge, I love best that when I scroll through my social media feeds, I’m meeting up with creatives who, like me, are exploring ideas and techniques that move them past their comfort zones. Not to mention, it’s so much fun to peer through their windows on the world!
Here’s the deets…wanna join us? Just create a photographic image that somehow illustrates the theme of the day, and then share it on your favorite social media networks. Easy-peasy. No need to use a high-end camera–a cell phone snap is totally fine! Simple or abstract, fancy or straightforward…you get to translate the daily prompt however you want. It’s group play, but even better, because you get to make up your own rules!
Respecting Nature’s Boundaries
A fight broke out on the adjacent hillside, just after daybreak. The animals’ movements were cloaked by dense chapparel, but their battle cries echoed through the canyon. First, the bark-howl of a surprised coyote, followed closely by the low pitched, guttural growls of a bobcat (similar to, but more robust than a domestic cat). It seemed to me a territorial dispute, which the coyote apparently won, because as the bobcat’s angry yowls faded, the coyote’s yip-howls got louder.
As if on cue, a stranger rolled up in his late-model sports car. I watched from my picture window as he rushed out of the drivers’ side door, cell phone poised for snapshots. His timing was impeccable, from his point of view, but he apparently left his common sense at home.
“Here, boy,” the man called out, as he inched his way into the bushes where the coyote was singing his victory song. He responded to the yip-howls with kissing noises. “Come,” he said, followed by whistles, ignoring completely the coyote’s territorial warning as he advanced.
When nature refused to answer his beck and call, the man threw up his hands and retreated. As I watched him climb back into his convertible, I couldn’t help but wonder how far removed from nature we sometimes are, to assume a scene from nature begins and ends with us.
(I didn’t want to encroach on the coyote’s territory with my camera, so I offer you instead a zoomed-in photograph of a hummingbird who helps stitch together the wildflowers on the hillside and the cultivars in my garden.)
Nevertheless, she persisted
I’ve coddled two climbing roses for almost 5 years, now, and have been rewarded with about as many blooms. I almost gave up on them, truth be told, because they don’t didn’t seem all that happy in my backyard. But they’re finally taking off: arching outward and growing taller. We’re growing on each other, you might say. Behold the Zephirine Drouhin–a bright spot of color in the pelting rain.
Lesson from an incinerated garden: Soften your gaze
Last week, a fire-breathing dragon swooped into my backyard garden, wreaking havoc.
It scalded these Meyer Lemons, which were just about ripe.
It was a relentless, record-breaking heatwave that scorched everything in reach.
Healthy leaves curled in on themselves, and turned crispy brown. Rose petals got singed, and assumed grotesque shapes.
This week is all about digging up and pruning back, salvaging what I can and encouraging new growth. From here on, it’s a game of wait and see: a budding leaf, the subtle lift of a drooping plant. I’m optimistic, for the most part.
A rascally rabbit has joined my clean-up crew–comic relief! Butterflies drift through the yard, laying eggs that will eventually replace the caterpillars that didn’t make it.
The urge to reproduce is strong, isn’t it? The need to set things right. But dreams don’t often translate into reality overnight.
Lesson from an incinerated garden: Soften your gaze.
I’ve got the blues
I’ve got the blues.
And by that, I mean the campanula that’s spreading like a welcome mat across our front walkway. (Oh, my lucky stars!)
I’m talking, too, about this purplish-blue posy, irresistible to pollinators and photographers alike.
In my backyard garden, the Hawaiian Blue Eyes are just now peeking through the soil. Hummingbirds are swarming the Black and Blue salvia. And just a short distance from Chez Shore, these Pride of Madeira have rooted themselves into a jagged cliff that overlooks the deep blue sea.
I could sing its praises all day long, the color blue. It’s the hue that makes my heart sing–how about you?
Pruning back roses and putting down roots
I pruned my rose bushes this weekend, and stripped them bare. They look so vulnerable now, and I’m remembering with wistfulness their fragrant beauty.
It’s an act of faith, this paring back. But it promotes deeper roots, and encourages branching.
It also speaks to me of possibilities. And you know what that means: a trip to the garden nursery!
Meet Oprah’s Legend, the newest resident of Chez Shore. For now, she’s a just a rootball with a few thorny canes…
fresh from a leisurely soak in epsom salts, bare roots exposed.
Over the next few months, she’ll plant herself deep in the earth. In due time, she’ll become a leafy beauty. When she reaches her full potential, she’ll be a sweet-fragranced, “ruffled whopper of a show-stopper” according to the grower, with epic 8″ blooms and “petals as big as a child’s palm.” That’s not just catalog hyperbole, mind you. A trustworthy gardener confirmed it for me.
Courtesy of Weeks Growers
Hurry up, spring! This, I’ve gotta see.
April Art Challenge: Earth Day
I’m settled into my backyard glider, watching the hummingbirds sip nectar from native wildflowers and then zip across the sky.
Earth Day is tomorrow, I just remembered, and I’m hosting our Art Challenge on this blog.
But first, I will watch the sun slant through the palm trees, and listen to the sparrow’s lullaby. I am a child again, sitting in my Nana’s porch swing and blowing dandelion wishes into a rainbow-sherbet sky.
We’re so easily distracted, all of us. We lose sight of what’s important, ignore our inner longings. Hence, these monthly Art Challenges!
I like best that they invite me outdoors–playful spirit at the ready, all senses engaged.
Like tiny seedlings, our prompts are rooted in the things that matter most. Our environment, for instance, and the beautiful creatures with whom we co-exist.
We’re a diverse group, amateurs and pros who express ourselves in different ways. Using a monthly prompt as our muse, we come together in the name of “art.”
These challenges aren’t a competition, by any means. Participation is our goal, not perfection. It’s all about capturing a fleeting memory, exploring our passions, renewing our childlike sense of wonder, and yes! making a joyful noise.
It’s about storytelling, in words and pictures–being transported to another time and place, or finding our way home.
For this art challenge, we’re showcasing our beautiful home, in all its glory.
Let’s get this party started, shall we? Some artists will lag behind, but no worries: That’s what comes of being members of a global community. Take the tour when you’re able, and then return for another visit!
Gallery of Artists (with links to their Earth Day entries):
Jan Johnsen’s “Spirit of Stone,” and an Art Challenge for Earth Day
Wow, it’s been more than a year since we started our backyard makeover! We began by replacing our thirsty lawn with drought tolerant, earth-friendly plants—envisioning, as we did, a haven for birds, bees and butterflies, and a sanctuary for us.
Salvia spires, cape fuchsia, lavender and roses…they’re sprawling across decomposed granite walkways now, perfuming the air as they reach for the skies.
Heaven must surely be a garden, or so they say. And by they, I mean me. Most of the time. Songbirds perch on the feeder, singing their little hearts out. Visual harmony, however, is still very much a work in progress.
In this next phase, I’ll expand my color palette—maybe add some splashes of yellow. I want also to rein in the random groupings, clustering whimsical pieces and grounding the airy (read: unruly) salvia with rocks.
How to accomplish all that? I hadn’t a clue.
That’s where Jan Johnsen’s latest book, THE SPIRIT OF STONE, comes into play. Have you read it? If not, go grab yourself a copy!
In seven, beautifully illustrated chapters, Johnsen offers new and/or freshly interpreted ways to incorporate stones into your outdoor living spaces. Quick confession: I’ve never really understood the notion of hoisting huge boulders into your yard, willy-nilly, or scattering white gravel around your succulents. It doesn’t look…well, natural. But after reading this book, I’ve come to realize that a few, well-chosen rocks will add dimension–maybe also a bit of sparkle–to my flowerbeds.
Courtesy Jan Johnsen, Spirit of Stone
There are important design considerations, of course. Johnsen walks you through the options. Rock gardens, cairns, stairs, stacking stones, accent pieces and Zen sculptures… she details the possibilities, and then shows you how to bring your favorite ideas to fruition.
I appreciated that Johnsen braided practical advice and deeper knowledge, and that she explored the ‘spiritual’ significance of rocks. Some people attach meaning to their beautiful colors, shapes, and textures. We might also see them as talismans of strength and endurance. As metaphors, they speak to us in ways that flowers cannot. As Antoine de Saint-Exupery said: “A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, being within him the image of a cathedral.”
Courtesy Jan Johnsen, Spirit of Stone
The Spirit of Stone is at once practical and spiritual, and it’s as beautiful as any coffee table book you’ll find. I’m keeping my copy handy, as I reimagine my garden landscape this spring.
And…
Because it ties in so nicely…
The Art Challenge prompt for April is Earth Day, so apropos!
Let your imagination flow like water over rocks, inspired by this global celebration of Mother Nature (with an emphasis on conservation). The rules are simple: 1) Drop a note in the comments for this entry, to let me know you’re interested. 2) Sketch, paint, make photos, embroider, knit, write a musical score, record yourself dancing…. any creative interpretation is welcome! 3) Display your work on your own blog, over Earth Day weekend (April 21-23). 4) Link it here, in the “gallery of participants” I’ll provide in an updated post.
The guardian of my secret garden
The butterfly counts not months, but moments, and has time enough. – Rabindranath Tagore
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from gardening, it’s that Mother Nature has her own rhythms. Mystifying and maddening though it might sometimes be, there’s an underlying order.
Why, for instance, is this Monarch caterpillar doing sit-ups on the milkweed leaf? No idea. Sassy little thing, though, isn’t she? If all goes well, she’ll shed her beautiful skin a couple more times, and then transform herself into a chrysalis.
Maybe one day, she’ll join the ranks of HRH, Mr. Monarch, who eclosed before our very eyes, just about this time last year.
I’m less inclined, this year than last, to fret when things go “wrong.” It’s a subtle shift–a metamorphosis, if you will–to see yourself as an invited guest at Mother Nature’s garden party.
Speaking of which: Cool cats that they are, 4th and 5th instar caterpillars are very much attuned to the world beyond milkweed plants that fuel them. By the time they’ve reached this stage,they’ve made least four wardrobe changes, shedding their skins as they grow. Cooler still, they swivel their heads in the direction of distinctive voices and loud music. Here’s what happened when I got close enough to say hello.
I’m learning as I go, and I cop to my share of mistakes. (I put just-perfect plants in altogether wrong spots, for instance; and I can’t get my First Love gardenia to love me back.) But I’m working very hard to create a garden that provides shelter and sustenance to winged creatures and wildlife, a beautiful respite for all.
I admire from a distance, zoom close with my camera. But when vulnerable creatures wander off into dangerous territory, as this tiny caterpillar did–flinging itself onto the hard, hot concrete, at least three feet below the plant pot)–I scoop them into a leafy cradle and return them to safety.
I’m planting the seeds of my own awareness…releasing expectations and accepting with joy the gifts available to me in this moment, in this place. Life lessons, learned best in Mother Nature’s classroom.
It’s a relief, actually, to let Mother Nature be the guardian of my secret garden.
Sure, the temptation’s there, and probably always will be: I want to run interference, to protect these treasures from harm. But as Eric said to me just yesterday, “You’re not Mother Nature, you’re Melodye. He’s a wise one, too, my husband.