California Poppies in Washington
It's been some time since my last post so I thought I'd start off easy. I bring you flowers. The iconic California Poppy, a botanic reminder of my time in the Golden State (1983-1994). I planted cal poppies this summer, and it's the first time I have ever had any success with them in 30 years here. I've tried seeds wild sewn, and also seeds in trays, started indoors. This year I bought two pots of starts from Sunseed Farm and despite making them hold in their pots for much longer than they might have liked, the plant took off once it was in the ground. It is literally in the hottest, driest, deadest soil in my yard. The poppies are thriving.
The poppies have me thinking about my time in Los Angeles and the yards and gardens I had, and the gardens I visited during my decade there. Recently I decided I'm giving myself 10 years to turn this garden into something interesting. A garden is never finished I would say, it is always in need of care. The garden I am planning currently is developing and I am trying to approach it with intention and methodology, with sensitivity to native species and culture, while respecting and nurturing the land. And it must be a garden that can withstand climate change!
I just finished reading Rebecca Solnit's "Orwell's Roses" so I'm little inspired by flowers and what they mean. Earlier this year I read two books on history of art that focused solely on women. Art Monsters: Unruly Bodies in Feminist Art by Lauren Elkin, and Katy Hessel's The Story of Art Without Men. This has been my research recently, to identify female artists to look up to, especially Canadian ones. I'm embarrassed by how few I know but I am equally pleased by who I am finding. Rebecca Belmore's work falls into that category.
Garden Plan 2022
The biggest thing my yard, garden, property gives me, is a place of calm and meditation, the place I do my work. I am not interested in or can I even imagine a finished thing down to every plant. Like many things I am letting the whole thing evolve as it should. I'm establishing more interesting lines of sight from key spots on the property, the view from the place you first enter the clearing and the view from the living room west into the forest which currently contains too many obstacles for my liking. The years I spent living and working here have informed what I want to look at, how the place might look and feel. I have different concerns now than I did 30 years ago when I first began.
The orange yellow poppy is warm and bold, with its impossibly delicate stem and flashy head, it survives at the roadside, and the seaside in wind that batters it, sun that feeds it. It is not a passive flower either, closing its petals to survive cooler nights. Succulent looking, its exquisite stem structure suggests serpentine ironwork, as it stretches across the ground.
Dad at home
My sister planted fantastic orange Marigolds along the strip of wall between dad's house and the next house. The Marigolds are huge and frothy growing in amongst strawberries, some decorative grass, Heather and this and that, that my sister pulled from here and there. It's part of the process of being at his house with him as his companions and caregivers. It's something I am incredibly proud to be able to be involved in. He is aging at home and doing very well with our gentle support. I just spent two days with him. We walk around his neighborhood, I point out plants and flowers as we go, we casually monitor progress of all that grows near our path.
