Can a Gardener Be an Artist?

With rain forecast this coming week, the tempo of the field has picked up. There is activity in the air and the earth and in me. Every time I turn, there is something new. 

Irises are the best for this. If you check them once an hour on hot days, you see the moment of exquisite explosion. Nigella stay at the about-to-open stage for weeks; do not keep checking them. 

Every day starts with a walk around to see what has changed in the night, and what may change that day. I find myself as curious about those flowers that are dying as those that are coming into new life. Have you seen the Piet Oudolf film ‘Five Seasons’?

‘One of my favorite scenes in the film is when Piet talks about how gardens mimic our own life cycle of birth, life and death, but they do it every year, year after year,’ says Piper, ‘which is perhaps less about perseverance and endurance, and more about acceptance, or appreciation—appreciating the present moment, whatever stage that happens to be. Piet’s celebration of late fall and winter in a garden is ultimately a very optimistic act.’

With so much sadness in the world, it feels an optimistic act to witness the cycle of life within a single tulip. I have photographed them more drying than I did when they were first cut. The one in the photograph above it unimaginatively called ‘brownie’, but it is a beautiful double, full of copper tones, with the odd hint of green, butter yellow and pink. But I have always believed that to plant a seed and to watch it grow is an act of investment. Investment in a place, a future, and a commitment to nurture.

And if that is not optimism, I don’t know what is.