Golden Days Ahead

One golden day redeems a weary year. ~Celia Thaxter

Weeping cherry leavesIt’s not often that turning the calendar page corresponds to a change in the garden. This August, the page and the garden turned in sync. Mild days and cool nights have ushered in a subtle change and earth’s spin towards the equinox has pulled the sun lower in the sky. Most of the July bloomers like daylilies have finished their show and the bloom palette has shifted to golden Rudbeckias and cherry red Echinaceas. Bees and butterflies abound, greedy for the late summer bounty, and the cicadas and tree frogs have begun their August serenade. In anticipation of autumn, the weeping cherry in the center of the garden has begun to turn into a golden fountain of foliage – perhaps it is just trying to compete with the golden flowers circling around it. In another month or two, the woods surrounding the garden will glow in autumn colors. For now, though, there is just a hint of the golden days to come.

Enjoy a few scenes from the garden as it shifts to gold, a fitting celebration of my 100th blog post as Composer in the Garden. (Click on any photo to begin the slideshow. All photos ©2014 Lynn Emberg Purse, All Rights Reserved)

The golden age is before us, not behind us. ~Shakespeare

For a different kind of gold in the garden, visit Ogee’s wonderful blog Gardens for Goldens.

The Joys of July

Summer afternoon—summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language. ~Henry James

Poodle playFor those of us in the Northern Hemisphere, July is the peak month of summer. Warm dawns are filled with birdsong punctuating a breathless silence, gardens  flourish with flowers and produce, evenings are balmy enough for shorts and sandals. “Lazy” is the way to spend a summer afternoon. For me, July is also filled with family birthdays, including my own, daily dabbling in the garden, and a tradition of watching the Tour de France. This year, Angel’s buddy Charlie Brown spent a week’s vacation with us, a time for exuberant play for these best friends.

There always seems time enough to watch a spider web floating in the breeze or to track winged creatures flitting through the garden – sometimes they land on my hand as if to say “Isn’t summer grand?” I often retreat from the heat of the afternoon into the cool of the house, watching cyclists at the peak of their powers race their way through the breathtaking scenery of the French countryside. Rainy days are spent at the piano, workinWine for weedingg on new pieces to the rhythm of water falling through the woods and garden and the percussion of distant thunder. Most days end with another tour de jardin, seeing what the morning’s efforts accomplished and perhaps to spend a leisurely hour pulling the odd weed while sipping a bit of cool wine.

Here’s to the joys of July, days and nights of sensory delights to hold and treasure in memory for the rest of the year. Enjoy a few scenes of the denizens of the summer garden. (click any photo below to trigger the slide show; all photos ©2014 Lynn Emberg Purse, all rights reserved)

My life, I realize suddenly, is July. Childhood is June, and old age is August, but here it is July, and my life, this year, is July inside of July. ~Rick Bass

 

The Big Picture

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

Bench swallowed by hydrangeas, 2013

Bench swallowed by hydrangeas, 2013

I haven’t photographed with a wide angle lens in my garden for many seasons. The crisp circular pattern of paths that originally defined the shape and structure of the garden declined over the years, shifting under the influence of weather, gravity, and life’s unexpected challenges. Last summer’s heavy rainfalls rendered the paths unusable at the lowest point of the garden and moisture loving plants – Hydrangea, daylilies, Lobelia - quickly colonized the rich muck. Perhaps you remember a post from last year, That Particular One, where all of my garden photos focused on the details of flowers, excluding the messy bigger picture.

But this week, the wide angle lens went back onto the camera and I celebrated the renewed structure and shape of the garden on the completion of the rebuilt paths. Determined to reclaim my horticultural territory, I hired a local company, Best Feeds Outdoor Design, to dig out the dirt of the paths, add edging and drainage, and fill with various layers of gravel. Muscular men dug and removed cubic yards of soil and wheeled in barrels of stone in extremely hot and humid weather, a job I had unrealistically expected to accomplish myself until I came to my senses.

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Now, the original shape of the garden I designed from the upper deck looking down has been restored, and not only has the appearance of the garden changed dramatically, it is a pleasure to walk through it.

circlesVertWP

Garden and woodland

Since most of my free time is spent in the garden, I often tend to see it as a metaphor for my life and this newest development was no exception. What struck me immediately as I meandered through the paths was how different the garden looked and felt, even though the same plants were in the same place – all the beauty of blossom and leaf remained but were framed in a very different way. Restoring a firm structure made them appear more beautiful than before, like adding a frame to a painting to add definition and draw the eye. What had become a chaotic ramble among lovely plants is now beauty contained in a pleasing form, a balance between strong lines and cascades of color. The wild woodlands surrounding the garden now seem even more mysterious and primeval in contrast to the firm human hand of design and form.

This shift in perception has made me consider the desirability for clearer boundaries in my own artistic life, perhaps finding a better balance between daily structure and creative abandon. I’m beginning to turn a wide angle lens on my life, looking for balance and beauty in the big picture.

Enjoy some images of the restored garden; click on any photo to start the slide show. (All images ©2014 Lynn Emberg Purse).

“A garden should make you feel you’ve entered privileged space — a place not just set apart but reverberant — and it seems to me that, to achieve this, the gardener must put some kind of twist on the existing landscape, turn its prose into something nearer poetry.” ~ Michael Pollen

Floral Fireworks

The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers. ~Basho

My father was born on the 4th of July, so we always had a double reason to celebrate the holiday. And did we ever! As a family of musicians, we transformed our neighborhood block party into a morning parade, recruiting my father’s band students and anyone in the neighbor who could play The Stars and Stripes Forever while marching. The rest of the day was an ongoing musical feast in the form of continuous jam sessions, the repertoire ranging from jazz standards to German polka band arrangements. Sometimes there were local fireworks at night but more often, we lit sparkler wands and drew pictures in the night air to a backdrop of fireflies (locally known as lightening bugs) who ignored our fiery antics.

Now my 4th of July is usually spent enjoying the floral fireworks in the garden. Daylilies of all shapes, colors, and sizes are the feature, surrounded by true lilies, salvias, roses, flowering shrubs and clematis. 4th of July fireworks indeed!  Enjoy the images (click on any photo to trigger the gallery slideshow) and have a happy and safe holiday. (All images ©2014 Lynn Emberg Purse, All Rights Reserved)

 If you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it’s your world for a moment. ~Georgia O’Keeffe

For my followers, I’ve wrapped up a demanding and complicated few months and am happy to return to blogging, gardening and composing. I look forward to visiting your sites and seeing what is new with you :-)

Willy-nilly

“Willy-nilly” – in a haphazard or spontaneous manner  ~ The Free Merriam-Webster Dictionary

Iris reticulata 'Harmony'

Iris reticulata ‘Harmony’

Yesterday, the warmth and sunshine of a beautiful April day lingered into evening, a perfect time to work in the garden. I had an agenda, a list – prune the roses, rake the leaves, pull the weeds. I pruned the blackened branches of roses that were damaged by a harsh winter and was delighted to discover green growth at the roots. That was as far down the list as I got. I paused to smell the wind carrying the scent of spring, I watched a pair of robins argue over territory, and my feet wandered over the paths drawn to bits of green and blue and yellow arising from the ground.

Rose hellebore

Rose hellebore

The “to do” list was forgotten and I moved willy-nilly through the garden, meandering, clipping here and there as I went, without plan or order. At work, I am the planner, the doer, the architect of outcomes. But on entering the garden, the plan became a burden that I happily surrendered. I shilly-shallied through a garden lit by golden evening light, my ears open to bird song while my fingers stroked the tender new leaves emerging from the earth. I began to dream instead of plan, I began to imagine instead of control, I began to be instead of act.

Daffodil 'Verdant Meadow'

Daffodil ‘Verdant Meadow’

After a few hours of meandering with snippers in hand, caught up in the magic of a gentle spring evening, I discovered that my hands had pruned the hydrangeas, weeded the garden beds and cleared last year’s leaves from the stone steps. The garden was clear of debris and ready to grow. My orderly list of chores was somehow accomplished as part of a relaxed ramble, an afterthought to the real business of connecting with the magical world around me. Perhaps I need a little more willy-nilly time and allow myself to be a dreamer and a sillyheart more often.

“I don’t think I want to know a six-year-old who isn’t a dreamer, or a sillyheart.” ~ Uncle Buck