A photo blog connecting life and the natural world in and beyond the garden.
One quiet winter afternoon I was looking for one more thing to do as the ice and snow had continued to hold me captive inside.
I had never googled my blog so I thought this might be an interesting activity. Photos I had posted during the last three years filled the screen. Then a painting appeared. I thought I recognized it. Intrigued I clicked on the photo and discovered a post dated April 16, 2012 by Maria Zarif. I was so honored that someone had chosen a photograph I had taken to use as a catalyst for her inspiration!
And then I had an idea. I want to ask friends, artists and all onlookers who stop by this blog to take a moment from their busy schedule to choose a photo and create! Have fun, don’t get bogged down in the details, just create! I would like to ask you to please stop back and share your creation!
I might even give it a go!
Yesterday my thoughts were of green grass and blue skies and the expansive vistas created on the garden canvas.
Today my focus narrows and I look closer into the heart of the gardens.
I anxiously wait for all that fly and crawl realizing we would not be here were it not for the interconnectedness of life.
It’s March 4th and it’s zero outside. The snow is slowly melting and what little has been revealed of the gardens has been decimated by foraging deer.
We know this cannot last forever. Positive thoughts of warmer days, blue skies and green grass will soon be overshadowed by a greater reality.
For those who have followed this blog, this story may be redundant. In the fall of 2004, the evening of my eldest daughter’s birthday, it began to rain. The rain was a prelude to the tropical depression that was about to descend upon us, Ivan. Eleven inches of rain later the water rose and receded and we no longer had a home to come home to. The foundation had shifted and the gardens I had created all washed away.
But let me backup. A week earlier as I was walking through my neighborhood I conjured up enough courage to ask a neighborhood couple if they would extend me the courtesy of touring their garden. They of course said yes and the tour commenced. What I remember is that the backdrop of the perennial borders were magnificent amaranth plants, all taller than me. The gardener broke off a drooping flower head and told me to shake the seeds into my garden and then thin to meet my needs. The flower head ended up on my potting table. A week later the water streamed in the potting table ended up somewhere in the garden and the flower head washed away.
Fast forward – a new home was purchased, every plant I could dig out came home with me. The following spring daylilies and hostas were planted and the amaranth sprang forth. Seeds had swirled around in the flood waters and came to rest in the leaves of the daylilies. Ten growing seasons later they still adorn the gardens at Valley View.