Belief

Spring is the cyclical reminder of beauty of the earth. Birth and rebirth happen each year without any help from us. If you aren’t a midwife, a father, a child, a pet owner or a doctor, Spring may be the only time you really get to experience nature’s miracle of birth and rebirth. Sadly, the heralds of spring have been stifled somewhat by the nasty tragedies that doted our human existence recently.  And so I stumbled on this quote from Kurt Vonnegut.

Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.

If you know Vonnegut, you know that he was the king of “Gallows humor” (humor in the face of or about very unpleasant, serious,or painful circumstances.) Gallows humor has been described as a witticism in the face of – and in response to – a  hopeless situation. It arises from stressful, traumatic, or life-threatening situations.

If you read Slaughter House Five, you’ll know that Kurt Vonnegut was aware of pain.  He was not naïve to bitterness.  And so it’s easier to trust him when he says, "you still believe the world is a beautiful place.”   

The world is a beautiful place.  It’s a fact. The world is a lot of other things too. (Also a fact)  However, the good news is that our belief that the world is beautiful doesn’t make it more or less true.  Similarly, our belief in gravity has no effect on its force.

The only power that our personal beliefs have is that (depending on what they are) they can make existence better.  Believing in something doesn’t make it more or less true, what believing in something does is make it more powerful. 

There are not always answers. Things will not always make sense, but Spring does come.  Every year Spring reminds us that there is beauty to be seen, and sometimes the appearance of the witch hazel and the cherry blossoms have to be enough to sustain us until we can once again believe that the world is a beautiful place.

After Winter, must come Spring...-Lauryn Hill

All photos copyright@Becominagardener

Like Diamonds in the sky

In grade school we learned about 'infinity.' In even toned voices, the teachers impressed upon us the concept that some objects are uncountable, some depths unfathomable, and some distances immeasurable.   Allowing a room full of 10 year olds to ruminate on this concept could throw a class into chaos, so we never spent much time on it.  They told us not to think about infinity in literal terms, encouraging us to just accept it and move on.

Fast forward--I have lived in a city most of my life. As far as I know there are only three constellations in the sky:  the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, and the few stars of Orion. It seems that there are hardly any individual snowflakes anymore.  The beach is eroding back into the ocean, so how could the grains of sand really be infinite? I've become a cynic and it seems infinity has become an unlikely, old fashioned concept.

But then, one dark evening, I'm quietly floating down the Rio Negro in Amazones, Brazil. Trying to spy camens, frogs, and night blooming plants, the sounds of the rain forest and the vibration of the little boat are instead lulling me to sleep. Not wanting to miss one detail of the Amazon exploration, I turn my head upwards to feel the breeze on my face and when I shift my eyes to the sky, I am suddenly awake.  There are millions and trillions of visible stars.  There are more stars than the sky has room for. I can't stop looking.  I am staring into the deepest, most astonishing abyss of sparkling tiny suns. En mass, a mesmerizing, three dimensional symphony.

Since that evening, I can think of nothing else. I find myself entranced by anything that looks remotely like a star filled sky.  Diamonds, fireworks, snowflakes, the misty drops that make a rainbow, even the lights of the cities twinkling--they are a mere reflection of the Amazon sky.  After seeing the stars, everything else in the world looks like an attempt to mimic them. A diamond? Just the earth's rendition of a star.

Does it change your life when you realize that infinity is real? Does it matter? Yes! Because it means that for today and for every day to come, the possibilities are infinite too.

Autumn's Promise

 Fall has never been my favorite season.  "Fall" down..."Fall" off the wagon...Inspite of the beautiful color, Fall feels like an ending, like a heartache. 

But this year I've been watching the color change more closely than usual.  Like the slow cooling of a valley at dusk,  the sun kissed edges of the leaves give way to a deep blush on the entire canopy.  The colors are so vivid you won't find them in any painter's pallet--golden leaf tips become a blaze in red, fade to a burnt orange, and on the lowest branches, green leaves yet untouched finish the spectrum.

I admire the trees.  Sentries of our landscape, they are the time keepers. The rhythm of the forest, the neighborhood, and the street, they have witnessed it all. Each year they prepare for this very moment. Once they get going, the fall foliage rivals any fireworks display. With their brilliant color, they show us how to live big, live fully, live now.  They don't hold back, they don't save some color for later.  The trees are not worried that they will run out of beautiful.  They are not afraid that it will be wasted. They are not concerned with investing too much in the production and coming out empty handed.  They already did the hard work.  They set their buds for spring.  No matter what, they cannot lose now.

Some think that the tree's colors are an indication that death is imminent....Winter is at their heels after all. But Autumn is not a song before dying.  Death is not imminent.  Trees don't give up when Winter comes--they take a well deserved rest.  And when they wake up, they start all over and do it again the next year...And the next year...And the next. Like Spring represents hope, Autumn is a promise, to weather, to adapt, to thrive.

So, when we falter, we can admire the old Oak, the Sycamore, the Maple, towering above us-- two hundred years of better and wiser and more spectacular.

This Fall, I'm going to face the heartache, shed some tears for what's been lost, and then look back with a smile.  The tears mean that we lived.

Celebrate the small victories, give thanks for what you have. Basque in the glorious sunshine.  Dance in the crisp air. Breathe deep in wisdom of the trees.

Never ever, ever, ever, ever give up -Winston Churchill
 

Totally Seduced

From the top Photo by LAM

 Recently, I got the chance to work with Tim (the curator of Water-lilies at Longwood.) Since Tim's focus is aquatic plants, he does most of his work waist high in the lily pools. That morning, I followed suit, pushed my foot into the deep boot of the waders and fastened the overalls.  The water is dyed black to keep algae from growing, but it also keeps you from seeing the bottom. I knew it was shallow but I didn't want to look like a rookie. Tim handed me a pocket knife and hopped in.  I followed his lead. Then I felt the strange sensation of the water suctioning around my leg.  I braced for the cold, but the waders did their job and my skin stayed dry!  Unfortunately, at that moment, the knife slipped from my hand. Luckily it landed on a lily pad and I was able to retrieve it.  (Cue the memories of trying to seem like I knew how to start the leaf blower at USNA a few years back.) We waded around, studying each plant--Hardy water lilies and Tropical ones, night bloomers, day bloomers, you name it-- We discussed their origin, architecture and bloom cycle and explored the best way to pot them, prune them and clean them.  I watched with delight as bees, who were already carrying enormous bundles, buzzed back greedily for a bit more nectar.

It wasn't long before the mysterious Victoria Water Lily took center stage.  Ruling the pool, Victoria amazonica and Victoria cruziana hold court with their love child, the Longwood Hybrid. Again and again since my arrival at Longwood, I have puzzled over the nickname of this plant--"The Seductress."  This was the perfect day to find out the thought behind the name.

To begin, she is the largest water lily in existence.  Her round platter shaped leaves can measure up to 8 feet across and can bear a 40 lb. weight. The flowers are large too--about 12 inches.  This indicates she is strong--appropriately named for Queen Victoria--but a seductress?  I wasn't convinced.

the insides Photo by LAM

Continuing our lesson, Tim dissected one of the spent flowers, and thus unleashed the spell of the Victoria.  She first blooms at sunset- a bright pile of white petals exuding a sharp, alluring fragrance.  A scarab beetle is aroused by the scent and clumsily flies right into the folds of the flower.  Beneath the petals, there lies a cavernous chamber where the beetles eat.  While doing so, they shake the pollen from their bodies, to the floor of the chamber.  Slowly the pollen sinks inside her to the ovaries.  The flower's temperature rises and the beetles stay active.  The ambiance seems to make them lose track of time.  At dawn the petals close, trapping the beetles inside all day, with nothing to do but assure pollination.  On the second evening, the flower re-opens, now blushing a dark, unabashed shade of pink. The fresh air allows the beetles to gain their bearings and they depart.

She'll get you Photo by LAM

Next, we got to work--pruning the plant. This allowed me a closer look at the enormous leaves. Brazenly, she displays her ammunition--the undersides of the platters, the stems and even the buds, are covered, every centimeter, with incredibly sharp needles. The spines leave a tiny shard in your skin when you touch them. These allow her to push or slice every other plant out of the way.

After spending the day with the Victoria, here is my evaluation of her nickname: She's beautifully alluring. Her pollination story is spell binding. She's devilish enough to puncture your finger or your backside (the needles can poke through the fabric of the waders) and yet she leaves you looking forward to the next encounter. So fascinating is she, that all of the first year Longwood Graduate Fellows are now planning a trip to Brazil just to see her pollinated in her native Amazon...She sounds exactly like a seductress to me.


*For more information on the Victoria, please read Dr. Tomasz Anisko's blog post, Magic by Moonlight.


 

Picture this...

There is a walkway in the conservatory at Longwood Gardens.  It's not a specific destination, it would be hard to direct someone to its exact spot.  I usually come upon it by accident, hurrying from one one place to another.  But when you walk in, the temperature changes. The breeze floats through the open windows, carrying the fragrance of water lilies. Mingling with the fresh scent of ferns and blossoms, overflowing their baskets, time suddenly slows.  Every slow motion step, I find myself thinking, "I wish I could take a picture of the way this place feels." 

My favorite backyard in Southern Virginia is full of sky scraping Virginia Pines and Loblollies, bright lantanas, fragrant gardenias and views of the brackish Lynnhaven River--try as I might to capture its peaceful magic, I can't freeze that moment with my iphone or my Canon point and shoot.  It's the sensation of being there. The calm of the present.  A Night Heron may swoop in or a White Egret might catch a fish.

Sometimes there is not a thing--not a song, not a dance, not even a compelling movie montage that can capture or express, the feeling of being in a moment.

As creative thinkers in gardens, museums and in schools, we are being tasked with finding interactive on-line ways of interpretive, dynamic learning. But no matter what, if it's online, it's still virtual reality, not reality.  The internet is a wonderful tool, but it has yet to eclipse the necessity of human interaction. There is a magic in the ebb and flow of teacher student relationships that remains unmatched by our daily interactions with Google. What we really need to do is to challenge ourselves, our children and our students to live fully.  Experience the things that we cannot describe.   What does it feel like to be inside listening to the rain? Can you describe the moment before an embrace, the split second of jumping off the high dive?  Imagine climbing the steep hills of San Francisco. What does snow taste like?  How does it feel to stand at the foot of the Giza Pyramids with your feet in the Saharan sand?

You can't take a photo of these moments, you can't truly describe them.  They don't add value to anyone's life when they are announced on facebook in the tawdry tone that has become common place---these moments only matter--when you live them.

Naked Strength

Oak at Mount Vernon byLAM

With nothing to read the other day, I eyed an collection of Tennyson's poems across the room.  Forgetting his genius, I opened the book to see if I recognized any of the titles. Turns out Tennyson wrote the Charge of Light Brigade and the Lady of Shallot. As I picked over my pasta lunch, curiosity led me through poems filled with adventure, observation, heart, and light. Near the end of the book, I found this gem, The Oak. No doubt he is reflecting on the noble benefit of quiet growth and modest majesty, that Oak trees generally display. But, what's magical about his writing is the momentum he uses to keep us reading.  He tells us right away, to be like the Oak. But he compels us to keep reading to discover why. As I read, I wondered if Tennyson saw the Oak as a pillar of strength or a lonely giant. Down to the very last sentence, I felt a sense of foreboding over the bare oak, "leaves fallen at length...trunk and bough" --Until the last phrase,--the save-- when I read the words, "Naked Strength."  He is not telling us that the Oak is sad and bare, he is reminding us that when all the leaves fall, the Oak is finally able to show us what its' got.

Like the Oak, we weather the seasons of life. We gain and we grow. We are golden for a time, we are winning... then with in a wind's gust, we lose.  Whether by nature or by circumstance, there are moments when we stand bare....But when we do--we reveal our strength.  We let go of our leaves when we don't need them anymore, when we don't need them anymore and finally, we reveal ourselves.

The Oak

Live thy Life,
     Young and old,
Like yon oak,
Bright in spring,
Living gold;

Summer-rich
    Then; and then
Autumn-changed
Soberer-hued
Gold again.

All his leaves
     Fallen at length,
Look, he stands,
      Trunk and bough...
Naked strength.

-Alfred Lord Tennyson

Light

July 4th at U. Del

This year Independence Day fell during the week I moved. Surrounded by unfamiliar faces at a Turkish/Brazilian cook out, I might have been the only American at the celebration.  Luckily on the 4th, the fireworks provide a few moments of solidarity for all.  The mix of a humid starry night, the BOOM of the explosives, the 'oohs and aahhs' lighting every face, knit us together with shared excitement. So even though I was among relative strangers, I was with friends.

At the same time Bruce Munro's "Light" exhibit was opening at Longwood.  The installation harnesses light through fiber optics and LEDs, channeling their energy into tubes and bulbs that set a whole meadow aglow. Twinkling, they make a bright, candied wonderland meandering through the parts of Longwood that are usually dark and closed off at night.

Not long after Light, I got to see Longwood's highly acclaimed Fireworks & Fountains show.  The main fountain garden at Longwood was first turned on in 1931 by the garden's creator and founder, Pierre duPont.  Today the fountains boast the same colorful lights from Pierre's time, and can fly 50 feet into the air!  Side by side, sharing the sky, the fire and water are a sight to behold.  Like nothing I have seen before, each element enhances the other's power.

Bruce Munro's "Light" 

In all these displays a collaborative attitude makes it so that presumably opposite elements are juxtaposed, creating a startling and breathtaking effect--the whole really is a sum of its parts.  This is a BIG synergistic idea.  In order to have a sustainable enterprise, we first look at our elements, we coordinate ourselves to focus on a common goal.  Then we create the steps to get there.  In a small way each of these displays is an example of this philosophy.  It is interesting to note that you only see the beauty of the lights, when it's dark...Coupled together the strongest forces might destroy one another or they might become allies.   An innovative idea- brilliant and simple... Like a light bulb!