Archive for garden
These are the ghosts of the wild tomatoes that (each summer) rise from the loam and take over my yard. The pig jaw is from my neighbor’s carcass pile. Out here, that’s a thing.
The picnic table they rest on is a nice pallet that the very same neighbor let me take home in the back of my truck. The pallet picnic table is held up by two junk-store sawhorses that cost me less than 5 bucks. I live in an old farmhouse (gussied up in navy blue and a red metal roof) made cozy upon my arrival by a top to bottom renovation.
Yes, Virginia, house-poor is definitely a thing.
LA was my base for over 20 years before this- I miss my friends and my salary and my hairdresser, but not much else.
Besides, this middle of nowhere life gives the most unusual gifts- bones and broken china and musket balls that rise from the muddy hills at the first thaw, a laboriously slow Spring that gives birth to furious pink peony blooms, a too brief Summer that passes in a swoon of greens and swirling blue skies, Falls that arrive with a riot of ripe vegetables and trees all gussied up in crimson and golds, and the winters… those old man winters…with bony white charm and eyes full of menace…one minute gifting lovely snow flakes and the next, slapping with ice…but mostly he’s toothless and doddering and by March, April, May, he’s well overlong with his stay.
I’ve met lot of nice friends out here, all artists and poets and musicians, all outliers.
When I first arrived, I dated the two-horse town lawyer (a most respectable gent) and followed him up with a crazy young crazy lover who came but almost didn’t went.
I’m good now, I’m good, I’m good, I repeat with the wind as it howls down the tired old hills to knock at my windows like a ghost who’s not sure if they’ve been missed.
I’m good now, I’m good, I’m good, I repeat while he huffs and he puffs but he can’t blow this old house down…anchored as it is with a lovely stone foundation from the 1820’s and a lot of dollars from heaven.
“Welcome, wild harbinger of spring!
To this small nook of earth;
Feeling and fancy fondly cling
Round thoughts which owe their birth
To thee, and to the humble spot
Where chance has fixed thy lowly lot.”
“To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring.” ~George Santayana
“The earth has music for those who listen.”
― George Santayana
I have been spending every extra moment searching for photos on my recovered hd files, photos for my show on April 6th, I can safely say I have looked at over 6,000 photos in the past month or so, enough that I can’t tell you anymore why I took them, how I took them, why one looks this way and another looks that way, there are so many pictures that I think, aha! this one! until I have a folder of over 500 photos that have to be culled down to 50, all I know is that this picture didn’t make the cut, mainly because there are three other flowers with dew drops clinging to spider webs that trump it and also because I had no idea this existed until I saw it just now…so much beauty in the world, it is crazy making, you know?
“Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and trouble is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?” ~John Keats
Via Kevin Sessums: “John Keats penned this in 1819, to George and Georgina Keats in a letter that has become known as The Vale of Soul-Making.”
I am trying to edit down around 20,000 iPhone photos for my April show at the Cherry Branch Gallery.
All is going well (at 4 in the morning) until I get to the hundreds (thousands?) of Poppy pictures I took last summer.
I am obsessed with my Poppies. I get why people boil them down to goo and smoke them (is that how it works?), I would too, as a matter of fact I thought about it many times last summer. There is something so hypnotic and narcotic about just looking at them, why not smoke them?
Cray, Cray. Total Poppy madness.
If the madness moves you…
My garden is a bit haphazard, true to my ADD nature. First, I started out with great plans but ended up throwing seeds where they might land, forgetting where they were planted, watering everything I could in hopes that they would remember what I had set them out to do.
I over planted tomatoes and zucchini. I didn’t plant anything else. Besides wildflower mix. Better to walk before you run, I say.
In the summer of 2012, I stalked Dunga Brook’s gardens with my iPhone and its wondrous *Olloclip attachment.
I lost track of time as I took photograph after photograph of the tiny little things that made my childhood so dreamlike.
Through this haphazard gardening and photography, I reconnected to the flora and the fauna closest to my feet and dearest to my heart.
I can’t wait for summer to come again, can you?
If you’d like to buy a copy of this photograph, please do and thank you!