Attending to Rhubarb

"Attention"

A few thoughts from the book, Lost in Wonder by Esther de Waal:

"Time and again the writer, the artist, the poet will remind us that we are living in a transparent world, and that all we have to do is to open our eyes and to see - as they see.  Sometimes they jolt us with a shock of surprise which forces us to look anew at something which we had failed to see, whether through over familiarity, or laziness, or because of the speed with which we habitually live and work... It may mean opening our eyes to what we had not noticed, and perhaps something that hitherto we had not regarded as worthy of attention...

Something not apparently beautiful becomes beautiful as one sees afresh.  The actual place may not be so important; it does not matter in the end if it is a gentle Welsh hillside or an untidy table.  It is the eye which counts.  The eye can be entranced by a street scene as much as a scene of natural beauty."

If one looks long enough at almost anything,
looks with absolute attention at a flower,
a stone,
the bark of a tree,
grass, snow, a cloud,
something like revelation takes place.
Something is 'given',
and perhaps that something
is always a reality outside the self.  [May Sarton]

I've completed three paintings of rhubarb now, all slightly different and I feel like I have a long ways to go to have the beauty and complexity of the tangle of stalks and leaves revealed.  This time I used a different green than before and the leaves are much brighter.  Each time I complete one, I say, "Never again!" but I'm often drawn back to them... but perhaps I will try swiss chard next.

Doing these types of paintings [planned, plodding, wash after wash] are rather meditative for me - that is, I must slow down and calmly work through them, a little bit of leaf here, a bit more there, one wash of paint after another, [but only after the first is completely dry!], learning I hope not to muddy the light.  I am often confused by the curly leaves and the variation in colour of the stalks which wind around one another, vying for a spot in the light.

Paying attention, to me means, seeing the jumble of stalks and leaves, but not needing to untangle or dissect or change it in any way... simply liking and observing the tangled mess.  I do know though that I prefer rhubarb in the garden to rhubarb on my plate!

A splash of colour....

This year, more than any other since we have lived here, has proved to be a year of colour in our yard.   I've mapped out the various garden spaces and have identified 10 different corners. A bit hard to see here but there really are at least 10 areas - a few corners I've rolled into one.... you might be able to make out the letters on the map and identify them with the list and pictures with the same letter.

Because friends have spoken of their love of lilies and said, "wow" when I mentioned that I had counted 19 different ones in our yard I thought I would gather them here - it will also be important come fall or next spring when I plan to make the needed changes to our 'yardscape' due to the loss of our two giant weeping willows this past year.

So here goes - they range from white to black!  well, almost black.

  our only two 'day lilies'

 

another 'peach' coloured lily - lovely!

burgundy - and somewhat fragile

a very 'fragile' peach coloured lily

  

 double petals

Garden inspirations...

Green is my favourite colour! But it is made more special by splashes of colour. Without the green the flowers would 'overwhelm' me, but together they naturally complement the other - without both the garden would be less... 

 

A few lines from John O’Donohue’s “In Praise of the Earth”

Let us bless

The imagination of the Earth.

That knew early the patience

To harness the mind of time,
Waited for the seas to warm,

Ready to welcome the emergence

Of things dreaming of voyaging

Among the stillness of land.

And how light knew to nurse

The growth until the face of the Earth

Brightened beneath a vision of color...

 

Let us thank the Earth

That offers ground for home

And holds our feet firm

To walk in space open

To infinite galaxies…

The wonder of a garden

Trusting the first warmth of spring

Until its black infinity of cells

Becomes charged with dream;

Then the silent, slow nurture

Of the seed’s self, coaxing it

To trust the act of death…

I am amazed by what the Earth brings forth in the summer garden.  After long months of snow and cold I long to soak in as much greenery and splashes of colour as I can – the feel, the scents, the visual beauty – to hold it close and carry it with me for future reference.

 

This summer I mean to document the flowers and plants of the garden as, due to the loss of two huge willows this winter, our yard of shade has been transformed into a yard of light.  This means a few changes in garden structure and plant locations are in the works for this coming fall. 

The following then documents some of our flowers so far:

 

my favourite daylily!

A new Red Rose - specific names escape me!! But this is the first bloom which opened today.

Dahlia - a new flower for us this summer but we love it!

one of our first flowers out, this iris always impresses and is a promise of more to come

 

our first hydrangea - growing beautifully 

the Daisies bloom unabashedly by the front sidewalk!

in a sheltered hidden place in the front garden

Mock Orange - one of my favourite scents!

first flowers out - Nanking Cherry

Scented Spring

The dampness from the morning dew seeped through my felt clogs and socks to cool my toes as I wandered the grass carpets amongst the trees of Patterson Garden early this morning.  The beauty and stillness overtakes you and somehow drowns out the noise of cars just beyond the entrance.   The garden is a place where nature shelters you from the everyday, where robins freely dance and a hawk suns itself on a stump. 

There are many trees - large and small, young and old and in between - to catch your eye. But it was the blossoms which assaulted my senses - eyes glued to their beauty and smell absorbing their various and mingled scents. 

The apple blossoms are majestic in their abundance, the plum blossoms are now few, the mayday not yet profuse, the chokecherry beautiful in it's simplicity and, as has been their place for a hundred years now on prairies farms and village fences, the yellow honeysuckle to guard the entrance.  Meanwhile, in spite of it's youth, a small lilac blooms and adds to the mixture of scent and beauty.

As I left I joined the long queue of vehicles transporting us to our work places - but in my spirit was a pleasantness which I carried through the work day and later as I walked the halls of St Paul's hospital, wandered through a stuffy book store and as my husband insisted on a renovation scouting trip to the "north end" which ensnared us in rush hour traffic for an hour.  

I've downloaded my photos now and share the beauty of the blossoms, now, as I sit by an open window glancing often at the tops of the trees waving in the breeze and the clouds passing by - but still relishing in the scented spring and hoping it will continue on for some days to come.