Exhausted by a particularly bad winter? News-addicted and over-the-top anxious? Me, too! But I actually had a few moments of real bliss last week, and they cost me nothing but some time.
It started with not remembering what the hell the pink-blooming shrubs are in the photo above. I planted them in the fall and right now they’re just sticks. So I started browsing my photo archives, found a shot of the shrubs in leaf and flower, and got my answer – ‘Wine and Roses’ Weigelas.
But I couldn’t stop there because browsing for that one photo got me HOOKED on photos that show me WHAT’S COMING SOON! And HOW F’ING EXCITING THESE PLANTS ARE! Including the tableau of shrubs, groundcover, and vine in the scene above from last spring.
(In between the Weigelas, in all her chartreuse party-girl glory, is a ‘Lucky Devil’ Ninebark – a stunning contrast. The groundcover comfrey is in bloom, and attached to the wires above is some crossvine (Bignonia capreolata). There are yellow blooms of ‘John Clayton’ coral honeysuckle on the left. Through the wires you see my neighbor’s garden furniture, painted to match the poles that hold the vines. She’s an artist.)
Another photo that I stopped to enjoy shows lots more crossvine blooms, plus the similarly colored blooms of ‘Major Wheeler’ coral honeysuckle in the center. I uploaded this photo as my new Facebook profile image, explaining to followers that it’s COMING SOON in real life. (Sorry, I’m in an all-caps mood.)
After a good hour of this kind of browsing I realized that it’s these intensely colored images that lift my mood, that make me stop and just look and remember. Nothing muted and approved by today’s design elite did the trick. (More proof that I’m a maximalist in the garden?)
Apparently lushness makes me happy, too. This photo of the same tiny front yard thrilled me to see because it’s SO FULL, SO ALIVE, at several levels. Its fullness also provides privacy from the passersby and a cozy feeling of enclosure.
The image also reminded me of the sounds of pollinators on the flowers in this border. SO many of them. It’s a happy place for them, and me, too.
Oh and can you feel the heat from that mid-day sun on a cloudless August day?
(This year I’m not using Lantana in these pots, switching to the ‘Profusion’ zinnias I’ve heard such good things about. I adore trying some new annuals every year for their critter-enticing powers. Back when I bought only trendy perennials and turned up my nose at annuals, I was missing out on a lot of fun. And blooms!)
Garden photos, especially colorful ones, seem to work better than gummies
And I’ve learned that garden photos don’t even have to be good ones. Even uninspiring closes-ups, mediums and wide shots and panoramas are helpful in lots of ways, beyond their mood-altering effects – in plant choices and design decisions especially. I try to remember to just RECORD THE GARDEN throughout the season.
But my photo failures were revealed: I don’t have photos of every part of the garden every year. And because I change plants here so much, there may be no evidence of that plant I tried last year and quickly killed.
So why am I neglecting to take photos I may need later? It’s not that my camera isn’t nearby – my phone is always on me – but because only beautiful subjects prompt me to photograph them, not the boring or even ugly sights that might be helpful to remember. So it takes free will to snap unflattering photos of my own (or any?) garden.
The worst photo omissions I’ve ever made fall into the category of “Before” photos, which are SO much more impressive than sad descriptions of what a space used to look like. Thankfully, I have early photos of this garden, taken in October 2011 when I first saw it. (The facade of house has gotten a make-over, too.) In the back, construction began right away on my porch and I missed my chance to take proper “Before” shots.
Could winter here be OVER?
A week has passed since I went photo-browsing and thanks to warming weather and the chance to do some GARDENING, I’m feeling markedly less desperate. It’s no surprise that being IN the garden is more uplifting than looking at it on my 24-inch monitor.
