Season of light

We are just past the Winter Solstice here in the northern hemisphere – each day will now grow longer, bringing more light into our daily lives. It is not surprising that many holidays in December celebrate a season of light with candles, Yule logs, Christmas lights and many other traditions.

Without leaves on the trees, the bright winter sun shines through the seedpods of plants and create patterns of shadow and light in the quiet garden.

After a brisk run through the cold morning garden, Pixie enjoys a nap in the afternoon light, raising a sleepy head every so often.

I had the energy this year to fully decorate the house for the holidays, inside and out. The front porch got special treatment to welcome visitors with a rustic green and white theme. (click on any photo to see a full size image)

Inside the house, I managed to get two trees decorated – the one in the front hall is full of musical angels and instruments, birds, magical creatures and the sun, moon, and stars.

The tree looking out over the woods and garden has a rustic woodland theme, filled with birds, furry creatures, nature Santas, and gardening tools.

I had so much fun decorating that I made a short video of the Christmas trees including a few cameos by Pixie and a soundtrack of Christmas music that I arranged for a CD years ago. Betty, a YouTube friend of mine, also included my video in a montage of Christmas trees on her channel. Enjoy!

As much as I miss spending my summer days in the garden, I look forward to the winter evenings as the sunlight fades and the candles and Christmas tree lights glow in the dark. I often light a fire in the music room fireplace and play Christmas carols with Pixie at my feet, a lovely way to end the evening. Whatever you may celebrate this time of year, may the light shine on your path and brighten the new year ahead.

So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing. ~T. S. Eliot

All text and images ©2023 Lynn Emberg Purse, All Rights Reserved, except where noted.

A garden for all seasons

The seasons are what a symphony ought to be: four perfect movements in harmony with each other. ~Arthur Rubinstein (unverified)

Slowly, the leaves are beginning to don their autumn cloaks of gold and red. The weeping cherry in the center of the circle garden is the first to turn,

followed by the red leaves of our native oak leaf hydrangea.

Much of the garden has barely begun to change color – the oaks are the last to turn as if they are reluctant to leave summer behind.

The white blossoms of Hydrangea ‘Limelight’ have softened to a rose-tinged hue

while other flowers and foliage carry on as if autumn was still a distant dream.

This summer, a former student came to visit us at home and we spent a splendid afternoon together. In the midst of his technology filled life, he had become interested in gardening and asked for a tour of my garden. Bill tagged along and as we strolled through the rose arbor into the lower garden, Bill exclaimed “walking through the arbor, now I understand!”

As I turned to him in puzzlement, he went on to say that he hadn’t walked through the arbor into that part of the garden in a long time, having been content to admire it from the deck while playing his guitar. Walking into the garden gave him a completely different perspective of what it meant to stand in the space and be enveloped by it. I was deeply moved by his reaction yet it confirmed what I’ve always believed about a garden – to truly experience it, you need to walk through it, not just look at it. Those of you who garden or who hike in nature surely know this difference.

By bringing a soulful consciousness to gardening, sacred space can be created outdoors. ~S. Kelley Harrell

My garden has developed its own sense of place over the years – while I made the design decisions, tilled the soil, and filled it with plants, it was in partnership with nature. The garden and I evolved and grew together – I learned its many secrets, it responded to my care and now we are deeply intertwined in this long standing friendship.

This is where I’ve walked every day for the past 22 years, listening, paying attention, and finding delight.  Joined in this quiet endeavor, our efforts have yielded both beauty and bounty in every season. Each time I step through an arbor, walk along a path, cradle a flower, or watch a spider weave an intricate web, I feel a part of the magic.

. . . the ideal space must contain elements of magic, serenity, sorcery and mystery. ~Luis Barragan, Mexican architect

A few weeks ago, I taught a garden design class and decided that the best way to teach the value of structure in a garden was to make a short video of the entrances of my garden through every season. As I was putting it together, I realized these entrances are really the invitation to enter into the garden. 

A garden must combine the poetic and the mysterious with a feeling of serenity and joy. ~Luis Barragan

As the seasons change, I hope each of you finds serenity and joy in the nuances and beauty of nature.

 

Fascination of Plants

Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better. ~Albert Einstein

I’ve been deepening my friendship with the camera this past year and using it to discover the beauty in my garden from new perspectives. As April shifted into May, the daffodils were replaced by Alliums and Camassias, bringing blue and purple hues into the garden. The grape and lemonade bed remained full of blooms until mid-May

but it was the graceful details of the Camassia flowers that drew my attention.

Alliums always remind me of giant lollipops on tall stems and they grow everywhere on the property, ignored by deer and rabbits.

Nature is an infinite sphere of which the center is everywhere and the circumference nowhere. ~Blaise Pascal

On closer inspection, those lollipops are globes of hundreds of small florets, each equipped with stamens full of pollen

beloved by bees.

A few late tulips reigned for weeks in the garden. Double tulip ‘Angelique’ is a favorite – her ruffled petals in shades of pink and white are a prelude to the peonies that follow.

A closer look at ‘Angelique’ in the garden

convinced me to cut a few blooms and photograph them on a light table to reveal the delicate translucence of her petals.

The poetry of the earth is never dead. ~John Keats

Almost black tulip ‘Queen of Night’ is another favorite and is still blooming in the garden. It’s sleek shiny flowers add deep notes to the color scheme

and captured the attention of Miss Pixie, who only sniffed and didn’t decapitate – she’s almost two now and has become a good garden citizen.

Columbines grown from seed pop up throughout the garden and are always welcome – the flower shapes with curving “tails” fascinate me.

Columbine ‘Wiliam Guinness’ was so covered with tiny spider webs and dew that it positively glistened in the morning light.

Iris season has begun, first with the dainty historical iris whose name I have forgotten but who always blooms first at the top of the hill overlooking the garden.

A closer look reveals subtle veining and her delicate yellow “beard” that gives Iris germanica its common name of bearded iris.

Bearded iris ‘Tiger Eyes’ looks as handsome in bud  as it does in flower.

When our native ostrich ferns (Matteuccia struthiopteris) unfurled their long fronds, I took a closer look through the lens to discover all manner of shapes and patterns.

Ferns are well known as an example of fractals in nature – not only are fractals aesthetically pleasing but also thought to be stress-reducing. Looking into the heart of a fern is endlessly intriguing to me.

If you are as fascinated by plants as I am, you might be interested in the Fascination of Plants Day which was celebrated this past week on May 18. Founded by plant biologists as an annual celebration to raise awareness of the diversity, beauty and usefulness of plants, it has inspired plant-based events across the globe. (Special thanks to Steve Schwartzman of Portraits of Wildflowers for introducing me to FOPD) Whether you are a scientist or an artist or both or anything in between, enjoy and appreciate the wonderful world of plants. I wish you all a May filled to overflowing with the wild and elegant beauty of nature.

What is the good of your stars and trees, your sunrise and the wind, if they do not enter into our daily lives? ~E.M. Forster

For more on growth patterns of plants and some musical fun, see my post on the Fibonacci number series in nature and music.

All photographs and text ©2023 by Lynn Emberg Purse, All Rights Reserved, except where noted.

 

Embracing Winter

I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape. Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn’t show. ~Andrew Wyeth

My idea of winter sports has always been a good game of chess in front of a warm fireplace. Yet there is no denying that the longer I garden, the more I appreciate the garden in winter. As the plants turn a crisp gold and then a rough brown, the eye focuses on the paths, the arbors, the bare trees and shrubs -“the bone structure of the landscape.”

The details of plants become fascinating in a new way. The rose hips ripen and soften as the weather changes

while the cone in coneflower suddenly makes its presence known.

Milkweed pods open and release their seeds, carried by gossamer wings.

An early morning stroll through the garden is dramatic in the winter sunrise.

And when snow arrives, those bones suddenly don a frosty gown that transforms everything.

It is the life of the crystal, the architect of the flake, the fire of the frost, the soul of the sunbeam. This crisp winter air is full of it. ~John Burroughs

We had an especially pretty snowfall last week that I was able to capture on video – enjoy the winter wonderland.

“Snow was falling,
so much like stars
filling the dark trees
that one could easily imagine
its reason for being was nothing more
than prettiness.” 
~ Mary Oliver

Carry the universe in your heart

I believe in strong women. . . You face the world with a head held high and you carry the universe in your heart. ~C. JoyBell C.

This morning, the full-throated pre-dawn bird chorus mingled with the sound of rainfall as Pixie and I walked through the dark wet woods and back to the house. (you can adjust the volume in the player).

home viewed from woodsThe rain has transformed the garden into a lush paradise ready to burst into a new round of blooms and the woods are beginning to take on hints of their green cloaks of summer.

The leaf buds of the hickory trees unfolded in a matter of days, revealing the remarkable geometry of nature. (Click on any photo in the mosaic to see a full-size image)

The birdsong and the lushness of early May mark a year today since my mother’s passing. Ruth Bach Emberg lived a long life, 97 years (though she was hoping for 100) and accomplished so many things. She was a doer, a fast walker, and a no nonsense woman with a kind heart and a smart creative mind.

To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power. ~Maya Angelou

Born in the 1920’s, she grew up in the Great Depression with four older brothers who taught her to drive a car, walk proudly, and stand up for herself.

She was recruited in the early 40’s as a Curtiss-Wright Cadette, one of 900 young American college women who learned 2.5 years of aeronautical engineering in 10 months at universities in order to do technical work on fighter planes for the war effort. College student in 1941I remember visiting the Air and Space Museum in Washington D.C. with my mother to see the Curtiss-Wright fighter plane that she contributed to in her work. The wartime efforts of the women Cadettes have finally gained recognition in the past few years (see linked article above) as an important precursor to the STEM movement.

Ruth went on to work in technical industries, teach high school math, serve as Dean at a community college, and work as the chief assessor in a rural Pennsylvania county – she was a strong woman in a man’s world.

She raised a family, gardened like a goddess, cooked so well that she wrote a cookbook, and served on many governing boards while running a basket shop and teaching others the art of basket making. Yes, she was a doer.

Living independently in a senior community in her mid-nineties, she was still lively as ever and we frequently went out to eat breakfast at the diner around the corner.

In the gorgeous green days of last May she suddenly fell ill and passed a few days later. When I accompanied her to the hospice, a beautiful place tucked deep in the woods, a large tom turkey was pacing outside her window as if welcoming her. The next evening, Bill and I took our pup Angel to visit her – while Angel ran into her room and kissed her hand, Bill brought his acoustic guitar and sat beside Mom’s bed, quietly improvising beautiful music. Although she couldn’t open her eyes or move much, she smiled when she heard the guitar and I could feel her relax. As we sat in the dark together, the room overflowed with light and love and we sensed her letting go. She passed peacefully the next day and when I left the hospice for the last time, the bird song outside was so beautiful that I stood to listen to the evensong of the day and of her life.

Mom lived a remarkable life, held her head high, and truly carried the universe in her heart.

The art of mothering is to teach the art of living to children. ~Elaine Heffner

May each of you have a blessed Mother’s Day and hold your family dear.

All text and photos ©2022 and 1984 Lynn Emberg Purse, All Rights Reserved except for historical documents or where noted/attributed.