Sunday, April 10, 2011

From the Sidelines


or Between the Rests

Someone, it seems, has been overdoing it in the garden.  I've been sidelined again this week by CFS, and have spent most of the last few days alternating between bed, sofa-and-laptop, and the Adirondack chair on the patio.  The restfulness has been critical, but in between lie-downs, I've been walking the (fortunately very short) path around the garden.  It's been a bit like playing the harp part in an orchestral piece—pages of rest, then a few brief, colorful notes, and then pages of rest.

The garden is that way, too, at the moment—little flurries of activity amid plenty of open space.  While the perennials are beginning to fill back in after their late-winter trimming, and the ground covers, though taking their own sweet time, are starting actually to cover the ground (impatiently, I begin to understand the impulse to plant invasives—bishop's weed would have solved this problem long ago), the effect is still a splash of color against an empty backdrop.  I would make a note to myself to plant more bulbs next fall, but a) I would lose it and b) I will plant more anyway.

In a way, however, planting more might be defeating the purpose.  The harp, after all, is a coloristic instrument in the orchestra—its effect depends in part on the relative rarity of its use.  The splashes of color in the garden grab my attention in the way that a whole swath, or a bed, or a field, might not; I know each tulip in each patch, when it first broke ground, when it started to bloom, when it reached its prime, which of its leaves get in the way of the camera.  (I grow species tulips, as their stems are either short or flexible enough to withstand the spring winds here, and they bloom early enough to please the bees even more than usual.  But the leaves do get in the way.)

Don't get me wrong—I miss being active without counting the cost, more than I can tell you.  I wouldn't mind being a violinist—even a second violinist—in the orchestra for a change, rather than the harpist, just for the sake of doing something, even though really, the part itself might not be any more interesting.  But these splashes of activity in the midst of rest do have their meaning.  The pleasure of being home for our first thunderstorm of the season, when the first rain (rain!  0.03 inches of rain!) fell in 64 long, dry days, is one I won't soon forget.

I suppose it's all about context.  Rain in between dry spells means a lot more than rain in a gray spring full of showers.  When quietness is the norm, you learn to savor moments of fullness:  the rain, the flowers, the experiences—


all the things that happen in between the rests.

13 comments:

  1. Sorry you've overdone it and have had to rest. But the garden gives us so much joy whether we're working in it or sitting on the sidelines. Glad you could enjoy your tulips and the (very small amount of) rain!

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  2. Beautifully expressed! I'm sorry about the flareup of CFS - hope you are soon feeling stronger.

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  3. Really nice comparison to music and instruments. Hope you are feeling better soon.

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  4. Beautifully put, and beautiful flowers. I agree. the first little clumps of crocuses in my garden get more of my attention than any big flashy display would when the garden is full.

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  5. I've never seen species tulips before. They are beautiful. Hope you will be making music again soon.

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  6. You, will understand, that I was putting out the rain-gauge at 2 this morning - and we got 4 millimetres ;~)

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  7. Holley, that really is one of the great joys of gardening, isn't it? Activity and rest are equally enticing.

    Ginny and GWGT, thank you--I've perked up quite a bit today.

    Carol, those big displays are so beautiful, but somehow it's the little clumps of crocuses that are exclaim-out-loud exciting. Thanks for visiting!

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  8. b-a-g, I'm really quite taken with the species tulips--they were one of those "necessary compromises" you make with your environment that actually turns out to be wonderful on its own. Some of the humilis types bloom almost as early as the crocuses, too, so you can really get a long season in.

    Diana, yes! 4 millimetres are worth a midnight jig or two!

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  9. I am very sorry about your flare up. I believe one of the pleasures of a garden, is to have those days where you rest in the sun (at least around here) and take in the beauty of the unfolding Spring. Sometimes we are in such a hurry to "project" that we don't take those quiet times to just enjoy and feel our efforts.

    Hope you feel better soon.

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  10. You have such a gift with words. They inspire me. Here we have more rain than we know what to do with... what a difference the miles make.

    Hope you feel better soon.

    Blessings to you.

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  11. Hi Stacy, very sorry to hear you've been a little under the weather. But glad that the weather was your first rain in 64 days - (and a thunderstorm to boot). Gosh, but you have such an alien climate to mine.

    A beautiful post, as ever. I know nothing of playing the harp - and yet now I feel I do.

    Dave

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  12. Life's Highway, thank you--you're so right that it's easy to get into project mode, especially now. I'm trying to get a lot of plants in so they can establish before the heat sets in, as well as do more mulching, etc. etc. But stopping to enjoy a nice day would be a mighty fine thing, too.

    Elaine, thank you as well. I honestly don't know how you can take that much rain and stay as balanced and sensible as you invariably sound!

    Dave, my sister-in-law is a professional harpist, and she usually takes knitting or word puzzles or something to orchestra rehearsals. She's an amazing musician, when she isn't knitting.

    It really is an alien climate--just to see dew in your photos was kind of startling.

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  13. You write so beautifully and your photos are so remarkable I feel like I've taken a trip through a garden without leaving my chair.
    I'm so sorry that you've had a flare up lately. It's strange-me too. I always look forward to spring, and then some how forget each year that I tend to flare then....? Maybe the dampness. I do hope better days are ahead for you and enjoyed stopping in.

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