I’m sitting outside in the white garden enjoying our first beautiful day in weeks. The sun is shining, the humidity is low, and it’s warm without being too hot. All of this is a complete violation of the weather report that predicted hazy, hot and humid with severe thunderstorms.
The past 24 hours have been drama-filled and I’m stressed.
So. Here I sit. I have water with orange slices in a large, cobalt blue glass. The wind is rippling. The dachshund is snoring. The light is coming through the mature oaks from the west and, with the wind, the effect is rippling light and shadow. Butterflies, hummingbirds, and the occasional dragonfly are visiting. It’s beautiful and serene.
Tonight when I sit here after dinner, the fading sun and then the moon will capture the white and it will all glow. If the wind is still with us, that glow will undulate. The fireflies will come out and add their own light. I will settle deeply into this chair and enjoy a glass of merlot.
I’ve been writing about this garden on my blog, but since I have this opportunity to bore a new audience, let me tell you about it.
The concept of a white garden is to provide an outdoor living space where the predominant color is green. White blossoms attract light; and between the peacefulness of the green, the shadows of mature plants, and the lack of real color to grab the eye, such a garden provokes tranquility and ease. The effect is Western Zen.
And is my favorite word and I couldn’t resist adding some blues to the mix. Since blue is a cool color, it recedes and while the color attracts attention, the distance effect works to promote harmony with the whites and not contrast.
This garden has been years in the making – mostly in my head and heart. This year I found the gumption to make a dream a reality. There are years to go before it will be all that I imagine, but it’s a journey – not a destination.
In just a few minutes sprawled in this lawn chair with my feet resting near a patch of white petunias, I’m calmer and at peace with the chaos of my life. Let it swirl around me like the wind in the trees. I’m grounded and rooted.
The view from my garden is not magnificent or awe-provoking. It is not dramatic. It’s a cool drink of water on a hot day, a comfortable chair after a hard day, and deep sighs of contentment.
Normally, when I blog I include several photos to illustrate my words. This time, I prefer that you imagine your own spot of peace, tranquility and ease. Close your eyes and breathe deeply, let the sun dance on your eyelids, feel the cold glass in your hand and the cool earth on your feet.
Luxuriate in your body, meld with the earth, and rise with the moon.
This is my view from my garden.
This post was written for I Heart The Mudflats at http://iheart.themudflats.net and is being published here simultaneously.
9 thoughts on “My View (from the garden)”
Connie, wow! Your blog is so beautiful. I am jealous, which is a compliment to your work.
The rose photo is gorgeous. Could you tell me a little about the rose itself?
Have bookmarked and plan to visit often.
oh my…that is just lovely..and would last about 45 minutes in this Texas heat…everyone i know in distant states are complaining about the rain..sigh*.
The masthead rose (at the very top) is a Glamis Castle. an English rose. It died in the horror that was the winter of 08-09. The rose in the blog posting is a white dawn climber. I have a fondness for roses that aren’t hybrid teas. They seem easier to get along with and far more beautiful. When I have nothing to do, I like to peruse the Antique Rose Emporium. When I get rich. . .
And welcome! I’m glad you like the blog. I love comments, especially ones that compliment my work. 😉 Please do visit (and comment) often.
just noticed (i found you via mudflats) that you have several friends of mine on your blogroll..small world..buzzard, juanuchis way,sagacious hillbilly, and others..cool..
And I didn’t know you were the Yellowdog Granny, BB was always talking about. I’ve asked BB to marry me a few times now, but she refuses to even meet me. (I’d appreciate any lobbying you could do on my behalf.)
Buzzardbilly is a treasure and any friend of hers, is a friend of mine. (As for Sagacious, I love cantankerous old men with a fondness for ladies lingerie.)
Lovely, Connie. Just plain lovely. I get a little twinge, remembering moist climates and fertile soils. Wouldn’t give up my desert home, but still… I remember the moist climates and fertile soils.
We’re in for a dry week (or so they say). After two days of no rain, my petunias are drooping. I’m telling you global warming is making for feast or famine around her.
And while moist, my soil is not fertile (at least not without a lot of work).
That picture make you just want to open your mouth as wide as possible, engulf that flower and just hold it in your mouth while slowly and gently feeling every fold and petal of its texture. . . or, just rub it softly all over your face.
Here it’s really hot. I’ve got 6 acres of hay laying on the ground. If life is perfect, I’ll bale it tomorrow and Thurs. Sometime in between I’ll till the corn and bean field and get a crop in before it’s too late.
Please. . . two more days without rain. Please.
The rain makes for beautiful flowers (and photographs), but I’m weary of it. Three more days, please. (Five seems like pushing it.)