A greenness grew

Spring drew on…and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps. ~Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

On this first day of May, I look out the window and see green – green! – on the tree branches. Flowers have been blooming since February – snowdrops, crocus, daffodils, tulips – and their color is so welcome.  Yet when the woods light up in delicate green, it feels as if spring is complete.

The ostrich ferns have completely unfurled, refracting light through their intricate fronds

while the sunlight pouring through white daffodil ‘Bella Coola’ turns its petals translucent.

The weather has had several wild swings this spring, hot summer temperatures for days in early spring followed by deep drops into bitter cold, the process repeated again and again. Yet the plants have survived somehow, resilient and beautiful.

Parts of the garden have come fully into bloom – the grape and lemonade bed is always its showiest this time of year.

After years of tolerating our makeshift garden gate built of fence parts, I found a beautifully crafted gate to create a dramatic entrance into the garden.

Green isn’t the only foliage color in the garden now – the red Japanese maples have fully unfurled their leaves

as has the purple smokebush entwined with Clematis ‘Sweet Sugar Blues’.  Our wild violets (Viola sororia) have been blooming for weeks and are now joined by the soft blue and white blossoms of hardy geraniums.

My latest garden video traces the gradual emergence of spring and the light that shines through the garden at this bewitching time of year.

Wherever you are in the world, and in whatever season you find yourself, may you see the light shining through the beautiful things around us.

Preparing for the Storm

  • Red pennisetumcut down old foliage in garden and prune shrubs
  • rake and clean up garden beds
  • reveal unexpected blooming crocus and say hello to them
  • view handiwork at end of the day before it is covered by white mulch (snow)
  • light a fire in the fireplace
  • uncork a bottle of wine and toast the wilds of March
  • review and revise lists of plants to order from catalogs
  • finalize plans to visit garden shows for a flower fix
  • dream of the garden to come
  • smile

Memories of a garden in motion 

Spring Can Really Hang You Up The Most

All alone, the party’s over,
Old man Winter was a gracious host;
But when you keep praying for snow to hide the clover
Spring Can Really Hang You Up The Most!
~ lyricist Fran Landesman

A quick post in a busy week, the last week of classes. It snowed, frost descended, then spring came back in all its glory. Here are a few photos of the garden, which survived the rollercoaster weather better than expected. More next week . . .

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I love this song; here is a YouTube link to Ella Fitzgerald singing it with her fantastic grace and style.

March Showers, April Flowers

April showers bring May flowers.

For most of North America, spring is very early this year and the year is unfolding in rhythmic consonance but the downbeat is ten minutes before concert time. In spite of April’s alternating waves of warm days and frosty nights, the garden continues to bloom anew each day, bringing cascades of color from both blossom and leaf. Every morning, a walk through the garden is an adventure – “who bloomed today?” Music is percolating in my studio, soon to be revealed – in the meantime, I share this photo record of a beautiful world opening petal by petal, leaf by leaf outside of my door and window.

Spring has returned.  The Earth is like a child that knows poems.  Rainer Maria Rilke

Lining the Path

 All paths are the same, leading nowhere. Therefore, pick a path with heart! Carlos Castaneda

Dusk is falling, I am determined to renew the mulch of my garden paths but the length of day challenges me.  The design of this part of the garden depends on the paths – they define and shape everything. Without them I cannot expect to stroll the garden nor photograph it. So each spring, I renew the garden paths.

As I work quietly, I begin to consider how frequently “the path” serves as a metaphor for life, for making choices, for encountering difficulties, for taking the easy way out, for pursuing an adventure. According to American psychologist James Hillman “Sooner or later something seems to call us onto a particular path… this is what I must do, this is what I’ve got to have. This is who I am.”  Italian psychologist and criminologist Cesare Lombroso wrote “Good sense travels on the well-worn paths; genius, never. And that is why the crowd, not altogether without reason, is so ready to treat great men as lunatics.” Thoreau exhorts us to “Pursue some path, however narrow and crooked, in which you can walk with love and reverence” but Spanish poet Antonio Machada states “Travelers, there is no path, paths are made by walking.”  Personally, my favorite path saying is by Groucho Marx – “A black cat crossing your path signifies that the animal is going somewhere.”

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In the garden, a path is literal, practical, yet highly symbolic. Visually, it leads the eye and the foot, like a giant arrow pointing the way.  There may be unexpected twists and turns, creating places for plant treasures, ornaments, a bench. This particular part of my garden was designed to be seen from the decks above it, not unlike the Elizabethan knot gardens that were meant to be viewed from a high castle window. The garden beds are both defined and connected by the paths.

Before the dark drops so deeply into the garden that I must retreat, I look at the paths with a sense of satisfaction. Task finished for the year, the paths are clear and ready for use, and I walk them home.

One never reaches home, but wherever friendly paths intersect, the whole world looks like home for a time.  Hermann Hesse

All photos ©2012 Lynn Emberg Purse, All rights reserved