I’m fascinated by the many different forms that plants can take–from the tall, wispy aruncus and thalictrum to the low-growing geraniums, from the rosettes of sedums to the leafy exuberance of hostas.
It’s the variety that attracts me–not simply the variety, but variety that somehow fits together to make a harmonious whole. It’s the harmony and the structure that distinguish a garden from wilderness or prairie or a patch of weeds.
A garden is alive, always changing from the newly sprouted plant, to the flower, to the seeds. And the cycle continues year after year–as long as the gardener is there to offer necessary care and maintenance–and perhaps even beyond the gardener’s tenure.
A garden is a place to lose oneself in color and shapes and forms–a moment’s respite from a busy life–renewal, refreshment, a deep breath. Working in the garden–the digging, the planting, the weeding–offers me the opportunity to experience the garden in a different way, up close and intimate.
Photographing gardens is another opportunity to immerse myself in the details and harmony of the natural world, a time to heighten my awareness of the beauty and intricacy of creation, a time to remind myself that I am being asked to receive and to give thanks.
“For from the greatness and beauty of created things comes a corresponding perception of their Creator.” (Wisdom 13:5)