Displaced Creativity

Groundhog's Day makes me feel like spring is around the corner - even when the groundhog sees his shadow (as he did this year).. and even when it's really not just around the corner (I do live in NH after all and we don't see spring until summertime...)

I didn't get the greenhouse I desired this winter, but I have kept myself busy. I am a home decorator at heart. I try to bring my garden indoors in my design. I hang my garden images, but I also try to use nature inspired color and themes. This winter, I have been redoing my stairwell. Unfortunately, I didn't think to get a "before" image, but here is the after...I hope that it stirs your creativity.

Don't despair those in the northern hemisphere! We'll be in the garden soon!

Flowers and Tradition

I have written in the past about flowers and tradition. It amazes me how interwoven flowers are with many of our celebrations. Yet, I think that most of us do not give much thought to this. With Valentine's Day approaching, I think it is appropriate to explore this phenomenon in more depth and in upcoming weeks, I hope to come back to it a few times. But today...I am going to focus on how special flowers can make an occasion for a child.

This past weekend, my five-year-old daughter performed in her first play. "Don't forget to get her flowers," another stage-mom reminded me. "The kids love flowers. They get very excited." And it's true. Don't we all love to get flowers? But why does this little tradition excite even a five-year-old? Wouldn't just taking her out for an ice cream (as my parents did) or hot chocolate (as we do here in New England because it is so darn cold right now) be enough?

Here are my thoughts... #1 getting flowers seems so very grownup. #2 the bright colored flowers are special in themselves and remind the little ones of the "specialness" of an occasion. #3 having something tangible to remind us of a special occasion for a few weeks keeps the excitement going just a bit longer.

I wonder, are flowers just appropriate to give to a little girl - especially a little princess-type girl who has just performed in Cinderella? Would a little boy like to get flowers too? (I'll leave this to mothers of boys to answer for me.)

In the past, I have given my daughter flowers for Easter, for trips to the Farmer's Market as "just because" the flowers were fresh and beautiful gifts, and for ballet recitals. Flowers are interwoven into our lives mainly because of my deep love for gardening. My little one understands that it is important to hold nature in high regard and to cherish the bright living jewels it gives us in the form of flowers. But I think this appreciation has also come outside the garden -- from the traditions we are slowly establishing that weave plants into her life. I hope that she will always see a bouquet of flowers as something special, to include in special occasions, to show pride and love.

My Bit of Winter Sunshine

I am one of those people affected by Seasonal Affective Disorder. When winter comes to New England, I just want to sleep through the season. I drag myself out of bed and follow some steps to shake off the winter blues. In addition to regular exercise (I find yoga most helpful,) I take vitamin D supplements and use a sunlamp.

My sunlamp is one of my most prized possessions. It is about ten years old now. It's a large box, about the size of a small suitcase. When I turn it on, the room takes on a surreal glow that is a bit eerie. I sit about 3 yards from the lamp while I do my computer work and slowly feel myself begin to perk. It's not exactly like gardening in the sunshine, but it is a close enough facsimile of sunshine that I can close my eyes and pretend I'm really at the beach if I want. Behind my eyelids I see that telltale glow that one gets when sunbathing.

During warmer months, I sit out in a sunroom that look out at my gardens. This time of year, I move to an interior room where I won't see the snow. The room is painted a warm sunshine yellow and my sunlamp warms the color further. The color reminds me of sunflowers.

My sunlamp is also useful for still life picture taking and unusual portrait taking. It rakes subjects with a warm light and help create unique shadows.

I hope that I"ll never have to go back to my life without my little box. This morning, as ice once again pelts my house, I sit here with a cup of coffee, listening to my five-year-old giggling as she plays a computer game. I let the sunshine absorb me and transport me to my garden sunshine happy place.

A Winter Test

My "green thumb" was tested last week during the New England ice storm. I am primarily an outdoor gardener, but I have a few prized houseplants that I have nursed to healthy heights. In the past, I have purchased houseplants to get me through the winter - to add a little greenery to the white and gray that surrounds us in New Hampshire this time of year. Every year, after a month or so of care, I slowly forget my houseplants. I stop watering them. I stop feeding them. I stop talking to them, stroking their leaves, and moving them around the house to cheer them up. But one plant in particular has not cared how I treat it. My peace lily is about four feet across. It was given to me by my friend Sara when I moved to this house four years ago. It is a symbol of our friendship. It is also a symbol of nature's strength because no matter how it is treated it thrives, giving up beautiful white flowers in my most tiresome winter moments.

Last year, I made a concerted effort to change my houseplant habits. After reading a book called "Growing Me" by Judith Handelsman, I had a new-found respect for my potted greenery. My houseplants have grown immensely in a year. Plants that languished without care for years, took on new life, blooming and slowly creeping out of pots. Last winter, my peace lily flowered multiple times instead of just once like it has in the past.

Last week, we lost power for four days. As my house grew colder than the outdoors, I watched my peace lily whither. While we stayed warm in a family member's apartment, I left my houseplants behind. On day three of the cold, we gathered the cats from the house and brought them with us. The houseplants were still left behind. On day four (before the power returned) my husband and I came to the house to check the temperatures of the pipes and otherwise make sure the house was safe. I walked past the peace lily. It looked awful and cried out to me "Goodbye, Melissa." I responded, "I'm sorry, I can't help you! Please try to hold on!" It was heartbreaking.

A very good friend of mine lost all of his tropical fish when we all lost power. Last year, we watched his tanks getting built into the basement walls when he had the room finished. With pride, my friend added coral and brightly colored beauties to the aquariums. Last week, we went to their house for dinner the night the power went out. They have a gas stove and we don't, so a simple meal was prepared in a darkened kitchen. Our kids played "watch the monster!" They ran into the basement with flashlights and asked me to join them, making shadows on the walls for entertainment. I turned my light to the fish. A clown fish bobbbed up and down. "Help me!" He cried. "I'm sorry, I cannot help you," I replied. He was gone the next morning.

When the power returned to my house. Most of my plants, with the exception of the ferns (surprisingly) appeared despondent. "I am so sorry!" I thought as I looked around the room while the heat slowly rose. I stuck a finger in the soil of each pot. They were still slightly damp, but very cold. I walked around the house a couple of times that day, feeling the life of my houseplants, but unsure which way they would turn. The next morning, the peace lily had two leaves perked up. "I'm going to give you just a little water buddy." Over the course of the day, slowly, each plant perked up. "I thought you were goners guys. Thanks for coming back!" I felt the life in the house again.

Living without power for a few days brings a heavy heart. Sure, we had a place to go, but we obviously missed the conveniences of modern living in our own space. But among the worst of all, trudging through our empty, lifeless house was terrible. There were no sounds , no refrigerator humming or heater pumping. Beyond that, there was also no pulse - by that I mean there was no feeling of this shell being our home. Large tree limbs had fallen around us. The rooms were dark and we were unsure when that would change. The houseplants stood as a symbol of mother nature's test and of a slowing pulse of life.

Over this past weekend we received about two feet of snow. While I was shoveling walkways this morning, I thought about the plants under the snow. I could feel their pulse. They are resting up for their spring duties. The snow serves as a blanket, unlike the deadly ice before it that despite its twinkling brilliance served only as a threat of nature's threatening powers. It is my goal this winter to keep feeling the pulse of nature. I want to feel that cosmic thread with my plants, wherever they are and in whatever stage of life they are maintaining this time of year. As I do every year, I will get through this test. Maybe if I am more clever, I can learn to enjoy this season.

Changing Light

Autumn sunlight allows the photographer to create truly unique images. In the northeastern United States, the golden hue the sun provides when it is low in the sky provides an incomparable warmth for pictures. This time of year is my favorite for capturing portraits.

Observe the effects of how this light highlights hair and boosts the glow of complexions. Mind how the light boosts colors and molds form.

Use the colors from nature to add interest to your backgrounds. Use a wide-lens aperture to take advantage of light and blur the background for softness and interest.

Shadows in fabrics and around facial features makes it seem as if you can reach out and touch the subject.

All seasons we must use directional light for the greatest effect. Light should be guided by a tree line, porch or other object. Light coming from all directions is less appealing, making the subject flatter and duller.

Light flowing through the garden and other natural spaces has the same affect on natural subjects as it does on humans. Now is a good time to take "portraits" of the season last flowers, leaves that are clinging dearly to trees, and other elements of the landscape.

From Sunlight to Warm Rich Color

I love this time of year, as the last of the early fall sunshine fades to warm rich color. New Hampshire is past its "leaf peeper" peak. Many of us live in New England to experience this transition every year. The last pink buds on my fairy rose are in bloom. The mums are beginning to dip and the asters are fading to brown. I bought a new perennial sunflower this year that has happily lasted well-beyond my intentions. Its flowers now kiss the ground under the weight of the cool autumn raindrops. The intense reds, yellows and oranges of the beeches and maples around my property are now a burnished russet, reminding me of the colors of warm baked pie crust or caramel apples from our recent harvests. These warm satisfying earth tones will soon be gone, replaced by bare trees and then white crystals. But, for now, I feel warmed inside by these rich colors. Pumpkins sit on stoops, waiting for kids to ring nearby doorbells for trick-or-treating in a few days. And then it will be time to prepare for my favorite holiday and I reflect upon how thankful I am that nature has given me this feast for my soul.

Thinking Books...

I found this great quote while looking for ways to publicize my new book online:

"I was reminded of the neatest thing about writing a book in the first place: the author’s obsession, developed over years and often nurtured in solitude, finally becomes a shared point of reference through which readers can look anew at some aspect of the world."

While interviewing the gardeners for my book last year, I felt that I had learned to see the world in new ways. My love for gardening grew. I better understood my place in nature. I am excited to share my views and those of my new gardening friends with others. I set out to write a book with a positive spin that showed the peace we can find when we connect with nature. I hope that I have accomplished that and will help others look anew at their gardens.