Behold! An Artist's Studio has Grown in the Garden

For the last month I've been working very hard to make this studio possible for a good friend of mine. Years ago when I first moved into this house I'd wanted this space very badly to be a writing studio. After I went through that phase, I'd hoped to clean it out and use it for my Etsy businesses, but like many things in life, it just didn't quite work out as I'd hoped.

I can say now (with complete certainty) that cleaning out that space taught me a great deal about myself and my divorce. In each and every object I could see and feel a memory or two and I'd find myself taking mental steps backwards, revisiting these memories, going deeper into my former life, and this allowed me to review repeatedly both my own unhappiness and the many arguments which had occurred. 

This was an incredible experience to say the least, and in a strange way, I'm very happy it took place. 

Mona—the youngest of the 3 black cats—trying her hardest to remain as feral as possible until she can no longer take the wet cold. At that point she'll move into the basement to remain toasty warm all winter. 

The garage/studio is now free of all of those objects and I'm free of their bad memories. The process truly had me working through some intense emotions and for weeks I was physically exhausted by that process. I'm finished with that for now—except for some ongoing trash removal—but otherwise, I've found a great deal of closure. 

Begonia hemsleyana from Cistus Nursery.

For the first time in months, I finally feel like I'm getting closer to my new life and this is an exciting time for me. I've turned the corner and have finally moved past the chaos and am back outside again in the garden.

Rhododendron sinogrande amongst little friends.

I enter there and find that my garden sanctuary is now covered in mysterious autumn mists with a sprinkling of yellow and red leaves that are lifted and spun around by the crisp, sharp winds that punctuate the rays of tilted October sunbeams. 

.Aspidistra elatior.

Often these brisk breezes take me completely by surprise—especially when I am somewhere in the shade.

Great creeping Coleus that I hope to overwinter indoors as a houseplant. Why not!

It has always amazed me how differently I feel about the shade at this time of the year. Whereas it was my friend just a few weeks ago, now it's become the dark alley I don't want to be caught in for fear of some unknown impending danger. (OK, for me that might just be some foot cramps and purple fingers but those can be at least a tiny bit irritating.)

Hardy Cylamen. 

During the last few weeks of summer I allowed myself to fully enjoy my back garden with many friends—both new and old. I'd never done this before and will always remember the late night conversations drinking wine beneath the stars. Like many other gardeners I'd made the space to be lived in, to be enjoyed, to laugh in, and to grow in—that finally happened for me, so now, as I move on (and possibly away from here), I can do so knowing I grew in this place. 

That is what is important to me. I grew. They grew. My friends and I all grew together. It may take a village to raise a child, but I think that growing together as a group of individuals makes something much more vibrant and alive—much like a natural ecosystem. We all have our part to play and are necessary to one another.

I grew as a woman and as a person in my garden this year and it's thanks to the plants I planted which supported us all as people searching out in the dark for meaning and substance.

Lithops. 

Soon I will be posting more about the houseplants as they move indoors again.

As always, I'm returning more and more to my peacock sense of fashion.

Virginia Creeper, (Parthenocissus quinquefolia).

And this peacock gardener is enjoying the riot of autumn colors before they're gone. Sure, not everyone is a huge fan of Virginia Creeper but it does provide the most amazing fireworks-like finale in the garden.

I often sit out in the cold now with the little cat and she takes it all in with me.

The hummingbirds talk to us, and I am happy to have them since they also look at me through the back window in my music/plant/writing room on the mornings when I sit down to write.

More on my own creative indoor studio next time...

(And yes, more to come on indoor plant labor-i-tories soon!)

Xera Nursery Fall Fundraiser and Open House

Sometimes one feels like a kid in a candy store. This was one of those times. 

The sale is over at Xera Plants but I made it at least. This isn't meant in a snarky way, I'm just surprised I had the energy to go! (September was quite an active month for me and I was really drained from all the activities.)

Sorry to have not posted anything about this pre-sale, but so it goes. (This is a wholesale nursery that's not frequently open to the public so whenever they open their doors it's quite a treat!)

Yes, I am posting this after the fact but at least this was something I attended within the last week! (Oh, just wait until my backlog begins to appear soon!)

Crepe Myrtle 'Wichita', (Lagerstroemia 'Wichita').

For a bit of a change I took my landscaper friend with me and we both enjoyed the break even though we were exhausted before we'd even left. 

Polka Dot Begonia, (Begonia maculata).

Introducing my friend to a few new contacts at the nursery was fun, and besides, who among us doesn't really just enjoy looking at plants?

Buddleja colvilei 'Kew Form'.

This form of Buddleja really surprised us both and the blooms were different. If it hadn't been for its leaves I'm not sure we would have been able to identify the shrub. That's what tags are for though...

An Arctostaphylos treated as a standard. 

And just look at the bark on this beautiful topiary! I could stare at it for days, months, years.

Parrot Plant, (Impatiens niamniamensis).

Ok, since I'm always bad about posting my purchases, I will do so this time. First up was a replacement Impatiens. Yes, I know it's getting cold out and that this plant won't be happy soon out in the cold but I should remind those of you who're new to this blog that I have a lot of plant lights and I spend all winter in a house filled with lights and plants. It's not such a horrible way to live and even people who don't garden as much as I do love to visit. 

I bought a Polka Dot Begonia and another Begonia luxurians too. The latter was also a replacement plant. (Yes, some plants were neglected during the separation and divorce process. I felt badly about this, but it has been worth it in the long run.)

Fig tree, (Ficus afghanistanica).

This little fig tree was a nice find. It's a compact form and quite cold hardy so it may end up living in a container although I plan to plant it before winter sets in around here. (If I do chose to move, this one is going with me.)

My sad fig situation this year. 

I was sad that my little fig tree wasn't very productive this year but our weather has been so strange. It's been sunny and warm for weeks now and we've had so little rain. It's October and I still have to water! I should be baking with apples right now!

(Yes, I would have bought more if I could have, but not knowing where I will be this time next year means that I have to really curtail my plant purchases to those which can be transported easily to wherever I land. I do love Xera Plants a lot though and I hope that in the future when I am more settled I will be able to add more of their special plants to my garden.)

The studio/garage. 

In other news, during my recent birthday party—while hanging out in the hammock—an old friend had a bright idea. Later that night he wrote to me and asked: "Have you ever thought about renting out your garage as an art studio?" I took a deep breath before writing back to let him know that when I first saw this house for sale online it was the detached semi-finished former garage space that excited me most. I very much wanted to make it into some kind of studio but we could never do so.

So, if my garden and I are going to grow on in time, it somehow seems quite fitting to let that initial thought I'd had so long ago—a little spark I'd sent out into the world—come full circle. I hope that allowing a gifted and very talented young artist to set fire to his own creativity back there with his brushes and imaginative energy will help to propel me forward. Besides, it means I get to add some plant life back into the space over the winter.

An artist needs inspiration, right? Let it be green...

Wordless Wednesday: Joy Creek Nursery (August 2012)

Joy Creek Nursery, Scappoose (OR).

Clematis 'Hakurei'.

Eucomis comosa 'Victoria'.

Retail Garden Center Conversations: Felco Pruners

18-year-old Felco pruners wrapped with bike tape. These belonged to an young man I met recently at a retail garden center  in Portland and they'd been given to him by his former boss at his last job. Warmed my heart a bit...

Some people who know me might actually say I'm a friendly person. I think that like many who prefer to spend their time alone though, I have a selective kind of friendliness. Honestly, I think I'm friendly by accident.

Sometimes at retail garden centers I talk to the cashiers, while other times I try to get out as quickly as possible because I'm feeling anti-social and just want to go home. So often my feet are killing me because I've been slowly looking at every single plant and my brain is mush as I try to remember what I've seen. If there is a line behind me, well I don't want to hold them up either. I just want to get in and out just like the next gardener.

Alright, so I get stuck in my head a lot. I like wandering around in there.

What's bad though is when I'm there in my head, standing at a checkout counter, and then I absentmindedly open my mouth and randomly say something out loud and the cashier hears me. These utterances have nothing to do with communication. Typically I'm just trying to remember something so I repeat it out loud.

A few weeks ago I was buying last minute plants for my birthday party and was standing at the cashier when I turned to look at a wall display and for some reason I said "Felco" out loud since there were so many of them all displayed in one place. I then slowly turned back to look at the young man helping me and I blushed because suddenly I felt self-conscious about having exposed my own personal preference through my own unique form of retail garden center Tourette's.

Without looking up he said, "I swear by my Felco pruners too. We all have our favorites."

How he knew I loved mine, I don't know, but he'd actually understood me.

Then he paused a moment, looked up, and noted no one was waiting behind me. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Felco pruners seen in the photo above. He smiled awkwardly and said I seemed friendly and he asked if I wanted to hear about his pruners.

I told him I was a garden blogger we both had a great laugh. I continued with, "Of course! Tell me their story but you know I'm going to write about this!" He readily agreed saying that he thought it would be great for me to write about an old worn in pair of pruners.

Who writes about that kind of thing, especially when the tool belongs to a complete stranger?

The Felco pruners had been a gift from his former employer, a great mentor to him, an Oregon nurseryman, and they're 18-years-old. He'd added the bike tape to them since the grip had worn out on one side and we both agreed that the tape added character. Besides, in a place like Portlandia it just seemed that much more fitting with all the cyclists here. When I asked if he cleaned them a lot he told me they look so polished since they live in his pocket and the fabric is always polishing the metal.

We both continued laughing and enjoyed that uncomfortable feeling of just having bonded with a complete stranger during a random moment which took place during a mundane daily task. We were finally interrupted when an elderly woman came in and asked where she could find a fruit picker. We both looked at her, he told her where they were, and then I grabbed my tray of plants and promised him I'd write a little piece about his Felco pruners as I headed toward the door.

As I drove home I thought a lot about why I'd been touched so deeply by such a silly thing.

I was in awe of the love he felt for his Felco pruners. I silently vowed to clean up my own pair and to treat them better in the future. Pockets of rust had appeared on them last winter when during the nascent period of my divorce I'd neglected them and had forgotten to put them away so they were exposed to the elements a bit. I actually had felt guilty about this but I forgave myself for my absent-mindedness.

So, which tool can't you live without?

"Go Seed Hunting!" said that little voice inside of me...

Just over a year ago, it was at this place (and nearly to the moment), when I knew my life was going to change in a big way. It was as if there was such beauty during that precise moment, in that place and time, that something opened up deep inside of me and I heard that little voice screeching loud and clear as it went in for the kill.

The Bloedel Reserve. 

I see now that for many of us—especially for those who design landscapes and even our own gardens—these are the sacred moments we want to experience. We live and breathe to hear these little things inside of ourselves, to feel out gut instincts. We use them to help guide us forward whether we're ready to go or not.  

Two Deer Ferns (Blechnum spicant) at The Blodel Reserve in Washington.

I want my next garden to have soul and at this point I will stop at nothing less. But until then, there is still a lot yet to do in my current situation.

This is a Red Cedar (Thuja plicata) woven pillow by artist Sue Skelly that was for sale at The Blodel Reserve gift shop last summer.  

Some of these photos here are ones that I've not yet posted. Then again, maybe I have but I just don't remember. I have a lot that was swept up into my iPhoto box during the past year. I hope to finally start to break these out now. Let's all just pretend and ignore that they're so "last season".

Acapulco Salmon & Pink Hyssop (Agastache) at Dragonfly Farms Nursery. 

Fantastic garden structure at Dragonfly Farms Nursery.

There will be more and more of these in the coming weeks and I will try my best to recall what was going on at the time. A lot changed for me though at the Garden Blogger Fling up in Seattle last summer and I regret not having posted many posts but I was going numb in preparation for the marital amputation.

That's something which has become clear now, and there's no turning back...

Random chance encounter I found between a plant and some pavement while walking home from the grocery store not long ago.

 Then there are those beautiful moments I'm having now,

My precious Hollyhock (Alcea) grown from seed from seeds purchased at Frank Lloyd Wright's Hollyhock House in Los Angeles, CA.

as I mix them in with my past,

I love the color of Alpine strawberries (Fragaria vesca) almost as much as I love their taste.

and I remember the simple pleasures too.

Coastal Goldenrod (Solidago simplex ssp. simplex var. spathulata).

Recently I began to think about my precious seeds, and the seed hunting, and the plant IDing.

This summer I've not yet had a road trip to look for seeds. Planning one for later has been in the back of my mind, on that perpetual back burner with the pile of other things, back behind all of the practical things I need to do right now—or else I should have done months ago.

The lovely annual Alternanthera. 

This week I will begin collecting some seeds around here at home. I'm working again too on adding items to my Etsy store and am thinking about what kind of job will potentially work for me—though deep down I just want to play with plants and write. This should probably come as no big surprise to anyone who knows me! I have some options now though and am working on scenarios that will help me to live with the dignity I'd like as someone with a chronic illness.

"Somewhere" in Mendocino County, CA.

So I'm mentally ready to prepare for such a journey back out into the woods and wherever else I land and I hope to hit the road this October. These trips are fun for me to plan.

Yes there is the ocean to see too as I go into California, but there are also friends in San Francisco, Los Angeles (I've not yet seen Lotusland) and (fingers crossed) the Garden Writers Association Annual Symposium in Tucson, AZ. (Come to think of it, I've never been to one of those either.) The drive home from there could be all new to me and that would be nice to venture more into the Rockies a bit.  

Something says to me that arriving in Tucson by car might be just what I need. 

And somewhere out in the desert I hope to hear from somewhere deep inside of myself, "Thank you for listening. Thank you."

When You're Not Really in the Garden

These last 3 weeks I've meant to be here more, and I've meant to be in my garden, but the medical requirement to walk 15-20 miles per week has been taking up a lot of my time. 

Just a few weeks back, I had the pleasure of walking 6 miles during a really great thunderstorm. Yes, this was classic Portland in the spring.

From the Hawthorne District, I could look back and see where I'd come from and at this point I was a bit worried about the rain that was coming. (Mt Tabor is the green hill you can see far off in the distance.)

By the time the rain started to pour, I was already well on my way home.

Wet and cold, the sky continued to darken but the sunset was nice that night.

Rosa 'Golden Showers'.

When I go on my walks, as I round the corner for home, I can now see my roses blooming more and more frequently. Sometimes I think of my garden as one big neon billboard exclaiming some really colorful person lives here. I like it this time of year as the jungle begins to take over and there is a different world outside my window. 

Oftentimes I see gardens that I think look nice, but are too patterned. I might have a jungle, but these lines really fascinate me because they boggled my brain a bit. I'd rather have a jungle.

Always before reaching home I wander the reservoir at Mount Tabor Park to get in some extra miles. It is such a beautiful place to walk. I walk over the hill you see there in the background and reach home that way. It is such a wonderful place to live. 

This past Sunday I walked to the store to purchase ingredients for a lemon tart I was making for a party later that evening and I ran into what I later discovered was a swarm of bees. It was just waiting here until the group could determine where to go. What an amazing thing to watch. One moment it was there, the next it was gone. I wish I could have seen them at the moment when they all flew away.

Later that same day, after the tart was partially completed, I walked over to Portland Nursery to purchase some heirloom tomato plants from myself and a friend. Along the way I spotted this old mattress frame being used as a trellis support. This isn't exactly my style, but I do love its lines and conical rust-colored squiggles as the grid floats there in the air.

Yes, I am sure this post is a bit random, but when you're not really in the garden, so often you are, aren't you?