Ms. Lynn's "Secret" Garden



 

Because my family lives from one end of the state to the other, I spend much of my time traveling the same highways. Each state highway is designated by a number, such as Highway 35 or 25 or 49, and almost everyone has a general idea where you are in the state simply by those numbers. However, for me, each highway is designated by hundreds of places where I want to stop, take pictures and hear stories.  I know exactly where I am when I get to the pastoral farm with the three white geese or the bed and breakfast that has been for sale for three years (that I want) or the whimsical garden with two storybook swings in the front yard.  This past Monday, I finally stopped at Ms. Lynn's whimsical garden!

I knew when I walked onto the porch that I had found a special place.  I knocked on the front door, and no one answered.  But I know how flower ladies think.  I walked around to the side door, and sure enough, it was open.  That's when I met Ms. Lynn.  I explained to her that I had admired her garden all summer, but the swings were the bait that I could not resist.  She was eating lunch, and I hated to interrupt; however, if there is one thing I know for sure, garden people cannot resist the opportunity to show off their blooms!

The blooms are everywhere, and every area of the garden is accompanied by a different story, such as the Louisiana Irises that bloom early spring, but serve double duty as an organic septic tank.  The irises boast beautiful dark orange and red blooms, while also providing a scent-sational treatment for what could have been a smelly (and costly) problem.

The garden is just as quaint and quirky as I imagined it would be!  Wrought iron, watering cans and wheelbarrows add to the fanciful feel of the garden, almost as if they grow magically out from the trees or vines or flower beds. 

 





Everything looks like it has always been there, from the yellow and red wheelbarrows that greet you as you enter the cottage garden to the bright blue bottle tree right in the middle!  No wonder the garden makes you feel like a child again with its captivating primary colors...and those enchanting swings.  

But, Ms. Lynn's garden has a secret.  I think all the best gardens have secrets; you just have to stop and listen for those secret stories.  Ms. Lynn has experienced more than her share of grief with the deaths of two husbands and three daughters.  Her whimsical garden is the natural solution to her emotional pain!  I know this connection.  I have read about a hypothesis called biophilia, which literally means a love of life or living systems.  Unlike phobias, which are the fears that people have of the natural world, philias are the attractions or positive feelings that people have to certain habitats, outside activities and natural surroundings.  Gardening is Ms. Lynn's form of therapy.  For others, this almost instinctive attraction is a means of survival. That profound bond with nature brings both calm and communion. I am a member of this group; when I am in a garden, I know I belong.



The subtle persuasion can come from a small wooden stool...



...or an empty wrought iron bench.



When our heart is sad, the garden beckons to us.  "Come and join me.  Get your hands dirty.  Plant something new. Be creative. I need your companionship today."  And so, like Ms. Lynn, we rise up early and face a new day, knowing that the flowers will be there to greet us.  We might even take our turn on the swings. 



Before I left, Ms. Lynn showed me a curious rose.  She said that she planted a rose bush, and the blooms had always been pink; however, a yellow rose is blooming from the bush.  She thought maybe she had planted the rose bushes too close together, which was the reason for the yellow rose.  The rose isn't a cross-breed or hybrid.  It is just a singular yellow rose on an otherwise pink rose bush.  Although I can not explain why that rose is there, I am still thankful for those rare blooms that ~ occasionally ~ just come out of nowhere!

 

At the end of our visit, a single petal seems to wave and say, "Come back again, when you're traveling this way!"

 

Dianne ; )

Art WORK @ Endville

TODAY'S BIG STORY:  Road Crews Create Art in Motion! This past Tuesday, my mom and I rode with my niece and her son to Endville (what a great name- sounds like a picture book idea) to visit my brother and his wife.  My brother is a crew foreman in charge of grassing a ten-mile stretch of four-lane highway being built near Tupelo for the new Toyota plant.  The preliminary dirt work for the highway project is massive, and I was amazed as I watched the various crews at work.  In the bottom of these deep excavations, the dirt movers, bulldozers, and graders looked like a little boy's play toys - two to three inches tall.

As part of our tour, we took a thrill ride to the top one of the highest hills and parked...so that I could take pictures and Roger could explain the process from start to finish.  I continued to look and listen and somewhere between the engineer's design and the estimated completion date, I was overcome with awe by the skills of these heavy machine operators.  Upon closer examination, I realized that I was watching art in motion ~ literal ART WORK.  Each operation was performed with synchronized precision like a choreographed dance.  HUGE, and I mean HUGE, pieces of equipment going up and down, and back and forth, and over and under ~ never missing a beat. Even the Slow/Stop signs were turning in perfect rhythm with the machines and trucks. It was so incredible to watch. Digging, scooping, lifting, plowing, dumping ~ skilled men/women at work all day.

As I listened to Roger describe the project operation, the words sounded more like a discussion of art than road construction.   He talked about the use of natural materials, such a water and grass and "good" dirt ~ which has to be mixed and tested for certain textures, consistency and density.  Whoever thought that common dirt could be so highly sophisticated? Any artist who has ever used clay or mud as a medium certainly knows and appreciates the rendering process.  

According to Roger, the dirt has to be perfect as does the landscape ~ another art word.  He talked about how the crews create this blank canvas by moving tons of dirt, which is done by hours of grubbing, chiseling, sculpting, and smoothing ~ the same techniques used to work out all the imperfections in creating works of art. Even the rocks that line the long stretch of highway are flawlessly placed stone upon stone by Mennonite craftsmen. A long day in the artist's studio may not compare to the long hours logged by these skilled laborers but the end result is no less amazing!

The next step in the process is grassing ~ temporary and permanent.  In the temporary stage, a quick-growing grass is planted to support and sustain the dirt work and prevent erosion. According to The Artist's Handbook, the support is the structure to which the paint and the ground layers adhere.  In order for the paint to remain in tact, the support must have good dimensional stability and durability.  Are we talking about road construction or art?  Additives, solvents, seasoning ~ all multi-layering techniques used in art.

In the permanent stage, the grass is planted to finish the work ~ the final layer of tempera green to be admired by all who travel the ten-mile masterpiece.  That's exactly what it is ~ an amazing work of art by everyday people.  Being an artist is not just about embracing the creative genius required to design such an grand endeavor, but it is also about the perfect execution of that design.  That finished product is what these skilled laborers achieve on a daily basis - one stroke or rotation at a time.

Before my visit with my brother this week, I would have probably told people that he helps build highways.  Now, I think I will say that he helps create art in motion!

 

Sandra, thank you so much for those delicious sloppy joes and for letting us "camp out" with you for a few hours.  And Roger, thanks for reminding me that no matter what we do, all work is creative. 

Dianne ; )

Matt's Super Summertime Sandwich

One of the perks of living in a rural community is the country store.  This past summer, Matt's favorite Saturday meal was this massive sandwich made from fresh sliced deli meat and cheese which was all hand-sliced on an old-timey meat slicer.  We usually bought a pound of cajun turkey, a pound of smoked ham, a pound of bacon, a pound of roast beef, a pound of sharp cheddar hoop cheese and a pound of pepper jack cheese.  Then we added dill pickles, fresh tomatoes and jalapeno peppers from the garden, sweet Vidalia or red onions, sliced boiled eggs and a host of condiments ranging from mayonnaise to honey mustard to salad dressings.  (Occassionally, we also bought incense, a small brown bag of dime store candy, a jar of pepper jelly and a plastic cup of boiled peanuts!)

But for the carnivore of the family, the trip to the country store was all about the meat.  The only necessary ingredients for Matt's super sandwich were three pieces of whole wheat bread, six slices of meat and four slices of cheese.  No extras ~ just bread, meat and cheese!

Everyone in South had their fair share of hot Saturdays this summer. No one wanted to spend the weekend cooking over a hot stovetop or baking warm casseroles. One particular Saturday, that hot Mississippi sunshine came streaming through our large picture window and saturated Matt's super sandwich with light.  I grabbed my camera and took a quick picture.  I wanted to remember the sandwich just the way it looked and relish the story that was served up on the side. 

Today, the South is recovering from tropical storm Lee, and the temperatures have dropped to the low 70's during the day and the low 50's at night.  A cool front is here, and fall is on its way! Just as the seasons change, so will the Saturday menus.  Big pots of homemade chili, tomato gravy and hot biscuits, Mexican goulash and rotel dip will become the family favorites; however, on a scorching summer Saturday, a super sandwich in soft sunlight is something worth savoring ~ and so is the story.

As a matter of fact, it is the best thing since sliced bread!

Dianne ; )   

Only One Spring

My husband is cleaning up the carport today which means that the barn swallows' nest has to go, along with the pile of poop beneath it.  I have taken so many pictures during nest making, bird feeding and flight training. The adult birds and young chicks left the nest weeks ago, but it still just seems so sad to wash it all away with a water hose, especially with Hurricane Irene bearing down on the East Coast.  David assured me not to worry - the swallows will be back next year, build another nest and hatch more chicks, just like they do every spring.  As soon as he spoke the words, I remembered a book that I read more than fifteen years ago.

I was asked to speak at a county-wide luncheon for a hundred business and professional women.  I knew these women had made the choice to work, and I wanted to deliver a speech that would impact them as they balanced home and work.  Buzz words such as multi-tasking, organization, goal planning and time management were at the top of my list, when I came across a children's book by Pearl S. Buck.  Mrs. Starling's Problem...hmmm, I thought...what is Mrs. Starling's problem?  I pulled the old book off the shelf.  After I read it, I immediately wrote my speech entitled "Only One Spring".

In the final pages of the book, the process of leaving the nest is complete. The text reads as follows:  They did not stay little very long.  Soon, very soon, the little birds grew glossy black feathers and nice wings which they did not know how to use at first. Indeed, Mr. Starling had to push them out of the nest, although Mrs. Starling begged him to do it gently.

      "They are so little," she explained.

      "They are birds and they must learn to fly," Mr. Starling said firmly.

      The day came when all the little starlings flew away.  The nest was empty. Mr. and Mrs. Starling looked at it sadly. 

      "It happens so fast," Mrs. Starling sighed.  "They are babies, they grow up, they are gone."

      "There will always be another spring," Mr. Starling said.

~THE END~

I told those ladies that, unlike the Starlings, we don't have next spring to start the process of nest building again.  No matter if we are in the phase of nest making, or bird feeding, or flight training, we have only one spring.  We have only one season of babies in diapers, only one season of little league, only one season of proms.  We have only one season of teaching our children to walk, and only one season of teaching our children to fly. When our little chicks are grown and have flown away from the safety of the nest, our one spring is over.  We aren't able to say, "I didn't quite like the outcome of that nest experience, so I'll do better next spring in a different location with a new family of birds."

That's why the Tomorrow Trunk has been so important to me.  That's why the concept of 'only one spring' has been so important to me.  I won't ever have another one.  Next year, my two baby birds will graduate from college, and their one spring will start.  They will begin the process of nest making, and bird feeding, and flight training.  Hopefully, all the lessons they have learned from the two adults who have been responsible for their survival will leave the nest with them. 

As I watched the detailed design of the barn swallows' nest dissolve into a mud puddle in the corner of the carport, I thought about that sweet little book which is now part of my collection.  I have never forgotten the profound impact that those three words had on my life - only one spring.  Our ability to feed our babies may require us to leave the nest for long hours; even so, the nest is all that really matters to those baby birds.  Learning to fly can be scary, painful and even dangerous at times; however, the lessons learned and the skills acquired during the process are vital to survival.  And even though we sometimes have to peck the ones we love to get them to leave the nest, that magnificent solo flight is always the expectation!

My one spring has been ordinary and outrageous, wild and wonderful, normal and bizarre, first class and coach.  Although my nest is empty, my Tomorrow Trunk is filled.  I don't desire another spring ~ a repeat or a replacement.  I am ready for a new season.  Maybe I will find a new nest, but all I need now is room for two.

Dianne ; )