In our backyard, the clematis has wended its way to the upper reaches of lamppost, trellis, arbor & tuteur. Hummingbirds & bumble bees are working over the lavender spikes of catmint. The local bunny has been nibbling the last of the lettuce. (Not to worry; it had already bolted.) The cucumber & zucchini plants seem to be doubling in size daily & baby tomatoes can already be spied, tucked away amongst the foliage, promises of the tasty salads & sauces to come. Yes, summer is finally here!
Viewing all of this activity the other day, it occurred to me that our garden really has become a way of life for Tom & me – for 6 months or so of the year, anyway. At what precise point we stopped viewing our yard as merely the space that surrounded our house & began seeing it as a canvas, so to speak, upon which we could create whatever outdoor experiences we wanted, I really don’t recall. Certainly, it had always been a goal – if not always a priority – to have a pretty yard & we have always made good use of our patio to enjoy warm evenings, to grill & to entertain. But once we had achieved the requisite “curbside appeal” in the front yard, many years passed by during which we merely accepted the garden we had been dealt by the previous owners of our property.
At some point, though, we finally turned our attention & our creative instincts to the backyard. Tom wanted a place to play pétanque & set up his telescope so it had a consistent orientation. I wanted a larger patio – one without the San Andreas fault running through it – & to finally be rid of those 2 huge silver maples that were blocking the sky. A Monet-style bridge & a wood-burning pizza oven came later. None of this happened overnight & all of it followed the usual trajectory of such lengthy & heady endeavors: Steep learning curves, fits & starts, highs & lows.
Then, as we filled the garden with more & more flowers, it became evident that we were also creating a regular, if seasonal, source of inspiration for my art-making. The roses, peonies & hibiscus, the delphinium & the iris that I had first started to plant because I’ve always loved flowers soon began to call to me with their various colors, shapes & textures. And so it is that now I rush outside, when the light is just right & the blooms are at their peak, to gather images of them from which to paint & draw. Sometimes I mass them together in voluptuous bouquets & record them from all angles in the long rays of the afternoon sun. Filling an empty spot in a flowerbed engages me as a gardener, yes; but the artist in me also has a say: By all means, what plant will thrive here? But what plant will also inspire me?
The supreme role model for this blending of art-making & gardening is, of course, Claude Monet. An avid gardener as well as arguably the most famous of the Impressionists, his fabulous gardens at Giverny, France are nothing less than 3-dimensional works of art which, over the course of several decades, he explored visually in 2 dimensions using oil paints & canvas. His painted images of water lilies, the turquoise Japanese footbridge draped in wisteria & clouds being reflected in his pond are some of the most recognized & beloved in the world.
Monet’s example notwithstanding, little did Tom & I suspect, when we undertook to transform our yard, that to be able to create doubly – first the garden, then the painting (or the delicious meal) – is to experience an abundance of good fortune. Of course, creating a garden is not quite the same thing as creating a painting (or spaghetti sauce), but that’s an altogether different topic! The point is, by re-thinking the space around our house, by breathing fresh life into it, by giving it functional as well as aesthetic purpose, we opened ourselves up to a wealth of possibilities for creative expression &, more than that, a whole new, enjoyable lifestyle – for 6 months of the year, anyway.