The beauty of letting go

Posted on December 6, 2023 by composerinthegarden

How beautiful the leaves grow old. How full of light and color are their last days. ~John Burroughs

We had a glorious autumn this year. Each day, the colors shifted from green to gold to russet and burgundy, slow steps into the final leaf fall.

The hillside remained handsome for longer than expected while the leaves in the woods began their slow shift into the colors of fire.

Pixie loves the smells of autumn and the fun of running through crisp leaves.

The rosy pink blossoms of Hydrangea ‘Limelight’ glowed beneath the gold of the bitternut hickory leaves, a column of unexpected colors. The trees in the surrounding woods slowly crescendoed from a murmur of pale gold to a full-throated song of orange and russet red.

Yesterday morning I walked through the garden, now quiet and hushed except for the crackle of fallen leaves on the path and the calls of a few winter birds. The leaves lie on the ground and pale winter sunlight has replaced the mysterious shadows and deep colors of autumn. The fall symphony has come to a close and winter waits in the wings, a new season carrying its own quiet beauty.

You can see the beautiful progression of color and leaf fall here – enjoy!

Autumn teaches us the beauty of letting go. Growth requires release – it’s what the trees do. ~ka’ala

A garden for all seasons

Posted on October 21, 2023 by composerinthegarden

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.

Snapdragon ‘Black Prince’

Red coleus

Orange coneflower

Ipomea ‘Blackie’

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.

A moment of balance

Posted on September 22, 2023 by composerinthegarden

On September 23, the light on this planet will achieve a moment of perfect balance, a moment when there is a period of equal light and darkness throughout the world. And then it will tilt on, ever changing over the seasons until the next equinox. Like the planet, I experience my own moments of balance, especially when I’m in the garden.

Life is a balance of holding on and letting go. ~Rumi

I’ve devoted this year to improving my health so that I can continue to garden. Daily attention to the foods I eat and working to build strength has improved not only my mobility but my balance, allowing me to weed a hillside or traverse the stone steps of the garden without fear.

When you dance, your purpose is not to get to a certain place on the floor. It’s to enjoy each step along the way. ~Wayne Dyer

Once again I can dance with the garden, a pas de deux that seems to leave us both pleased. I supply the plants and the support system, she responds with beauty that nourishes my soul and living creatures who fill the garden with color, movement and sound. We’ve become old friends, my garden and I – we have found our rhythm in this slow dance of flowers. (Click on any photo to see a full size image)

Rose ‘Ambridge Rose’

Clematis ‘Margo Koster’

New rose leaves

Lily ‘Tiger Babies’

Griffith Buck rose

Bumblebee sleeping on dahlia

Last year, I focused on replanting the outer garden to grow more native plants, to support more pollinators in their life cycle. The results were all I hoped for, as the more naturalistic planting style fit our wooded lot and the upswing in insects and birds was notable. This scene was transformed from the foxgloves and peonies in May to the blooms of betony (Stachys) and milkweed in June, along with the emergence of native grasses.

July was filled with the graceful wands of tufted hair grass (Deschampsia cespitosa) and the raspberry red flowers of bee balm (Monarda didyma).

The walk through this little garden is filled with the sound of bees and birds

though quiet on misty mornings.

You were once wild here. Don’t let them tame you. ~Isadora Duncan

This year, I took the same approach to the inner garden, letting go of many non-natives, especially many daylilies which found new homes

Hillside of daylilies

Daylily ‘Lavender Stardust’

Daylily ‘Eggplant Ecstasy’

and replacing them with plants that support wildlife at every stage of their life cycle. Next year, those changes should be more evident in the number and diversity of insects and birds yet still add beauty and balance to the garden.

The balance of nature is not a status quo, it is fluid, ever shifting, in a constant state of adjustment. ~Rachel Carson

All the flowers of summer, from June to mid-September, are featured in this short film, with Miss Pixie gracing the garden from time to time. I was inspired by the beautiful soundtrack recording of Satie’s Gymnopedie #1 recorded on cello.

Bill and I celebrated our 44^th wedding anniversary a week ago. The cake decorator got a little confused about the number – we’re still practicing how to pronounce 44^{nd 🙂}Pixie decided to erase the error by breaking her year-long record of no counter-surfing; she was feeling left out of the festivities and grabbed her own piece of cake. Honestly, it was a day of hilarity and celebration, from the time we removed the cake from its box and started giggling, toasted the day with Prosecco, reminisced over our wedding album photos, and laughed at Pixie’s antics. Forty-four years of loving and laughing has brought its own point of equanimity to our marriage.

When I awake tomorrow, the earth will be poised on its seasonal moment of balance. May you find joy and balance in your days ahead, no matter what comes your way. Happy Equinox!

Life in a garden

Posted on July 4, 2023 by composerinthegarden

We need beauty because it makes us ache to be worthy of it. ~Mary Oliver

I stepped outside at dawn this morning to a tuneful chorus of birds in the trees above me. After days of torrential rain, the birds seemed to celebrate being able to hear their own songs again. But the rain was welcome after a month of heat and drought and the garden is lush and green again.

In my garden, after a rainfall, you can faintly, yes, hear the breaking of new blooms.” ~Truman Capote

I sometimes wonder how life can be this beautiful, this life in a garden. As I continue to leave behind the intention of striving for success in the world, I am content to allow the garden to rule my imagination and inner life. Last night I dreamed of orange poppies and purple alliums but walking through the garden this morning was more beautiful than any dream.

Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers, where I can walk undisturbed . . . ~Walt Whitman

In late May and early June, the irises rang out color through the garden – bearded and Siberian iris are well known flowers and create bold imagery. (click on any thumbnail to see full size images)

‘Beverly Sills’ singing on the steps

Siberian iris ‘Riverdance’

Firefly on iris

Bearded iris ‘Beverly Sill’s

River of iris

Our less well known native Iris versicolor

Iris versicolor 'John Wood'

and Iris virginica

Iris virginica with Tradescantia ohioensis

bring a quiet and subtle grace to the garden.

Watching the iris,
the faint and fragile petals –
How am I worthy? ~ Amy Lowell

On the cusp between May and June, peonies and allium bloom outside the fence where the herds of deer ignore them. My favorite peony is ‘Krinkled White’ whose single flowers expose the inner parts that feed the bees and yet resist falling to the ground after a rain.

It is a fairy flower. Can you see it, touch it, smell it, and not love it? . . . The next time I live I wish I might be a single white peony so that people would . . . involuntarily catch their breath at the sight of me. ~Ruth Stout

As June arrives, foxgloves and native iris join the peonies in the front garden to create a peak moment of bloom and offer more food for pollinators.

The roses lead into early summer, heavy with perfume and transcendent beauty that catches the light as the earth spins toward the solstice. The simple pink blossoms of rose ‘Complicata’ adorn the arbor above while geraniums and peonies add color underfoot.The single rose flowers catch the sun and spread their sweet scent in every direction.

Rose, O you completely perfect thing, always self-contained and yet spilling yourself forever . . . ~Rilke

The lush blossoms of a David Austin pink rose throw a June garden party with Penstemon ‘Dark Towers’ and Clematis ‘Comtesse de Bouchaud’

while the rich color and heady fragrance of ‘Rose de Rescht’ captures the eye and the nose.

. . . when I am alone I can become invisible. . . I can hear the almost unhearable sound of the roses singing ~Mary Oliver

The native white Hydrangea arborescens has begun its long summer bloom cycle as it surrounds the bench where I often sit in the shade of the woodland.

Pixie, sweet and ever present garden companion, just celebrated her second birthday.She asked if she could help me with garden chores. So grown up.

I filmed a slice of life in my garden from May into June filled with color and light. I invite you to walk with me through the garden that I love and treasure – may you find pleasure in the shared journey.

Every day I see or hear something that more or less kills me with delight, that leaves me like a needle in the haystack of light. ~Mary Oliver

Fascination of Plants

Posted on May 20, 2023 by composerinthegarden

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.