From the May garden
This update is sent out under a full Flower Moon! Other names for this May full moon have been Budding Moon (Cree), Planting Moon (Dakota, Lakota), Egg Laying Moon (Cree), Frog Moon (Cree), and the Moon of the Shedding Ponies (Oglala).
We are deep into May and inching toward the summer solstice. The greens in the woods and gardens are still young and soft but they shift daily towards a tougher, darker, summer hue. Cottonwood fluffs are floating, soil is warming, insects and critters are inflicting their damage, weeds are taking off, and I am trying to keep up. There is still so much that could be done to get in a crop of this or that, but all of a sudden it’s past time to get dinner started, and I really want to just feel these spectacular days, register them deep in my marrow, and recall them pleasurably without a looming to-do list squeezing my experience.
My to-do list is not all drudgery. It includes planting a young Spartan apple tree that I have stubbornly held onto through three house moves (it’s in a huge pot); finding spaces for all the seedlings I've started; constructing a bamboo bean trellis (ask me about homegrown dry beans!); anihilating those sneaky buttercups; and a lot of desky work that's impossible to do on gorgeious days... The summer season of my bouquet subscription starts up this week, and as soon as I have extra flowers they will also be available on Fridays in Bellingham at Makeworth Market and The Mount Bakery.
But staying on track is really difficult for me when the wonders of high summer all but trip me up, demanding, “Hey look at ME, I’m blooming NOW, and I won’t be here for long so LOVE me! Come now, notice me NOW!” Which is also our daughter’s refrain, and I’m almost always willing to stop my bustling to spin her on the swing and hear those kid-giggles.
The swings are in the hawthorn tree, which has been blooming now for three weeks. You may still notice hawthorns in bloom along the highways -- ours was still a glowing white cloud five days ago with the bees working it furiously, creating an encouraging hum. Although I knew it was a chilly Spring this year, the silence around the pussy willow, dandelions and fruit trees felt ominous because I know that native pollinators and honey bee populations are diminishing under multiple stressors. I had just started asking around to see if anyone else had noticed the lack of pollinators, when a stretch of warm days hit a requisite length, the code was cracked and the bees appeared. It got downright noisy under the canopy of our grandmother hawthorn tree.
Then last weekend’s wind loosened the petals and they enveloped us and our backyard quests in white, snow-globe swirls. A welcome spring rain has moved the tree on into its rather dull summer green, but the white petal confetti has been fluttering from folds in our sweatshirts and camp chairs like fairy dust… proof that the hawthorn magic occurred.
And now on to the purple phase!
May started out with lilacs, then I spied Wisteria and now my garden looks like this! Purples, violets and blues are the most attractive colors for pollinators, which makes me feel more kindly towards a purple, which sits quite a way down my list of favorite colors. There is a full spectrum of blooms coming along in my garden and out in the clearings, and I’m excited to share all this beauty with you over the next few months.
I also look forward to sharing some highlights from The Well-Gardened Mind, The Restorative Power of Nature, by Sue Stuart-Smith, as it is always nice to find fresh evidence to support my beliefs in the power of gardening! The current proliferation of podcasts, products and online courses reflects a heightened appreciation for nature and plants, there is ample documentation of the therapeutic effects of time spent in (or even simply viewing) nature, and any gardener will concur that working with soil and plants feeds the soul. But Stuart-Smith (a prominent British psychologist who is married to a famed garden designer) documents the importance of the act of caring gently for a garden, feeding the soil, weeding, failing and trying again... and offers compelling evidence that gardening is a sustaining and productive practice in its own right. The 2020 gardening boom proved to many people that a garden of any size was vital for maintaining mental health and giving meaning to their days.
I do believe deeply in beauty and nature as powerful, uplifting forces. Colors and fragrance speak to our emotions in a silent language that skips over our brain and goes straight into our souls, our deepest memories, and our common experiences. I pour this heartfelt belief in “plant language” into all my garden and floral designs, but it is the flower CSA through which I get to share my exploratory, poetical cut flower growing project in real time. I hope there is room for connection and conversation too, as we exchange trust and money for delight.
As a CSA member you get to be surprised and know exactly where your flowers come from; support creativity and be a consumer-activist in an alternative economic transaction that reflects community-focused, eco-feminist, regenerative values. You bring these flowers into your space, soak in their goodness, recognize some favorites and feed off the abundance that each week or month offers across the arc of the year. I hope that you stare at your flowers in between e-mails or during meals, get lost in the intricate veining structure, the color of the pollen, the teensy fuzzy hairs on the stems, and the way the petals go translucent when they start to fade… falling in love as I do.
I feel lucky to share my plant-wonder and respect while getting compensated for my efforts, and there you are saying, “yes! This is important!” For which I am ever so grateful.
As a sole proprietor, perhaps my self worth is too closely tied to my work, and I do still carry residual heartbreak from my recession-doomed '08 & '09 job search after grad school. Though I supported myself with a gardening and design/build business for years, I've definitely internalized some of our country’s dismissiveness towards gardening, art and other nurturing or “indulgent” occupations. I keep doing what I do and quietly collect evidence that this is all worthwhile, but there isn't a whole lot of external validation of my professional path. I read gardeners’ profiles in the UK-published Gardens Illustrated magazine, where they are celebrated as professionals, and wonder: could we shift our thinking to value gardening as more than “just” a hobby or leisure activity?
This is where you come in (if you were wondering), as someone who values this work! Which is to say: Thank you for supporting what I do, thank you for listening, and thank you for keeping your eyes open to beauty in the world.
Happy May, everyone, and best wishes