| This month, June 21 to be
specific, is our celebrated Garden Tour. Garden enthusiasts from all over the state come
for this very special celebration of life. To Jennie Zacha and her ladies (and gentlemen)
who make this happen, we love you and thank you for this tremendous task of love. So now
my mind is in a flower garden and won't come out. OK, I'll go there, but I'm taking you
with me. I follow a grass alley bordered by blue and white agapanthus that leads to my
rose garden. The air is scented with the glorious perfume of a hundred varieties of roses.
My favorites are the climbing roses that have scrambled up trees, trellises and arbors. My
roses abound in various shades of pastel: blushing pinks, apricots and pale yellow,
lavender and white. The roses are offset with blue and yellow iris and columbine, pansies
and other scented flowers. |
My rose garden surrounds a terrace of
Spanish pavers that continue into my art studio. I enter through a wall of tall French
doors, tall enough that I may wheel out my easel on glorious days. One corner holds my
drawing board, easel, taboret, another my torch, tanks and table for lamp-worked glass
bead-making. A bin holds clay and sculpting tools. Behind a chaise and reading lamp rest
my books. Shelves and shelves of books. Books on art, philosophy, psychology, gardening,
how-to-books and how-not-to books. In another corner I have a tall, skinny, chest of
drawers. I cannot reach the top drawers. All the drawers appear to be empty. My friends
know the drawers are full. They hold my dreams. Did you enjoy my fantasy? The only
thing that is tangible is the chest of drawers in a corner of my house, which patiently
awaits the manifestation of everything else.
I create my fantasies and my realities, as do we all. Sometimes it's hard to tell the
difference. Sometimes there isn't any. Isn't it fun that we all have this power? |