morning light…

a peaceful time in the garden. Birds chirping, hummingbirds flitting about, sun not quite up, a coolness that feels refreshing.

the hobby of taking photos…

“It pleases me to take amateur photographs of my garden, and it pleases my garden to make my photographs look professional.” ~Robert Brault

Rose Water & Fuchsias

It is difficult to not inundate you with flower after flower as they burst forth over night, it seems, into view in the garden.  After the dormancy of Winter and the preparations of Spring to suddenly have all my favorites showing quickens the pace to pull out that macro lens and fire away. I hope you accommodate me as I take it all in. There is something renewing, peaceful, balanced about it all.

My other cathedral: the natural landscapes of mountains, forests, rivers, lakes, Trout and rock formations await. But, right now, my man-made landscape beckons.

~

Traditions in Gardening (Life)

“Long experience has taught me that people who do not like geraniums have something morally unsound about them. Sooner or later you will find them out; you will discover that they drink, or steal books, or speak sharply to cats. Never trust a man or a woman who is not passionately devoted to geraniums.”

Beverly Nichols (Merry Hall)

Observations with no Conclusions: I find myself repeating the habits of my dear departed loved ones when it comes to gardening. I am reflexively drawn to flowers that my parents, Aunt, grandparents planted and raised in abundance for as long as I can remember. Why? Why the following in the same path?

Geraniums, Roses, Fuchsias, Foxglove, Hollyhocks, Ferns are foremost in our gardening preferences. Yes, there are other efforts toward Hosta, various perennials, ground covers and trees but the go to flowers year after year are the above.

I like these flowers by virtue of their colors, their blooming time and quantity, their hardiness. But, if I drill down for the honest why’s of it all, I meet that same swirl of thoughts and emotions I seem to meet anymore when plumbing the depths of who I am and why I believe what I believe or feel or think or say. There is a lot of unresolved emotions and thoughts that just makes one turn away to deal with the present events.

Yet, the preference for the plants? Memories of being a child and things were happy and bright. Playtime, sunshine, those colors around me, something connected to my parents and family…that was positive. Those plants brightened the hearts and minds of my loved ones. I know enough now, as an adult, that the subcurrents of unhappiness and unfullfilled dreams were there for them but gardening was an outlet.

So these oft repeated flowers and colors did something to raise their spirits. I know they raise mine and I feel a positive connection to the past. Such remembrances to the past, be it gardening, cooking, decorating, tinkering in a shop, crafts, recreation all have traditions that we borrow because, yes they work and are efficient, but also because we watched our parents, our mentors and somewhere in that muddled memory are pleasant recollections of warmth and peace.

Last night, a neighbor lady beckoned me to her yard to show me the flowers she had planted. This lovely woman, in her 80’s, was so proud of her geraniums, her petunias and hosta. She bubbled with excitement about the colors, the soil, the amount of sunshine they receive, the hosta having originally come from my departed Aunt. I listened, admired, took in the beauty and tidy plantings. Her geraniums, my geraniums prompted my considerations for this post.

The Garden’s Shades of Red…………

Random shots from gardens, here and there, giving off shades of red. Shades of greens, blue, yellows and white are all pleasing this time of year. But, red is the most pleasing to me. Not sure why, but next to a healthy green, red is it. 

Roses: Battered But Beautiful

This past Winter, I had to sell my departed mom’s home. Emotionally, it was a difficult process. One of the things I wanted to accomplish was to salvage all the plants I could that were near and dear to my parents. They kept a very beautiful yard. It was cold and wet when I had dig up roses and fuchsias. I transplanted them into less than ideal earth and conditions. I crossed my fingers. 

I had noticed the Lincoln rose had sprouted but one bud. It stood there for some time not progressing through the heavy rains of late. A few days ago, I saw it opened into this beautiful rose, but it looked a bit disheveled for sure.

Tonight, I was outside as it started to rain, yet again, and I notice the Lincoln rose had progressed further. Beautiful, battered and finishing with grace. Not perfect, yet still beautiful.

I wanted to share this picture of how the new owners of my parent’s old house have fashioned their vision of a yard. An abomination to the lovely yard my parents maintained. I shared this over on my Hoarding Woes & You blog too (why I haven’t been able to fish much for last three years). You can see a few remaining roses, I didn’t capture, peeking up through the uncut grasses. I guess a glimmer of beauty seeking space.