Sakura Sunday

Post 71

The mood of early spring is hard to define. But here and there you get perfect days, cool, not yet balmy but gentle nevertheless, brightening light intensified by the lack of tree cover, revealing the unexpected delicacy of emerging vegetation.

Somehow the Japanese cherry, Prunus serrulata, sums up, in its bloom,  the beauty of the season in which it blooms.

Philadelphia, like D.C. and Newark, has a magnificent public collection of cherry trees, thanks to the generosity of the Japanese people, who, for over a century have donated several thousand trees to these and other American cities.

Just from the way the blossoms fall,  you feel like you understand Japanese aesthetic sensibility that much better. And there are worse ways of encouraging international understanding than sharing beauty.

Today is Sakura Sunday, the day of the Cherry Blossom Festival. Sakura is the Japanese word for cherry tree. Below is a picture of one of the two cherries we have previously planted as street trees.

And today we planted our third. Thanks to a sale at Lowes, this one is a weeper. It bloomed early and is now without blossoms, but only until next year.

Small at they are now, it is comforting to think how they will look in 20, 50, 100 years. When they grow as large as the wonderful specimens in Rittenhouse Town, trees that each have a history and a personality of its own, like this one below.

 

Or these two, that seem to be holding hands and dancing.

It feels good sharing beauty, knowing that a future you will never see will be that much better.

I am grateful to the generations of Japanese who developed these trees and shared them with the world.

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For the last few months I have had the luck of  walking daily thru an exhibit of Japanese prints put up by my accomplished colleague, Marian Jahn.  Below is a photo of a portion of one of my favorites of these prints, the photo is taken from the Art Department's Facebook page at: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Art-Department-Free-Library-of-Philadelphia. The exhibit has one more week to run.

 

 When I was growing up  my mom would often call  my attention to certain things that she felt were the best of their kind; she called this educating the eye. Now I wonder if my exposure to these beautiful prints might have influenced how I have apprehended this spring's blossoming, thus inspiring this post.

We never know all the ramifications of the simple deeds we do in our lives. I thank Marian for all the effort and knowledge she put into this exhibit, because here the influence can be traced and she can be thanked. We owe so much to so many. And as the cherry blossoms fall after their quickening bloom, I hope I can keep that knowledge with me.

Loving the Imperfect, Garden and All

Post 69

I talk about wholeness a lot on this blog, but rarely about some of the unpleasant parts of wholeness. So here--like dark clouds on a sunny day-- is a love screed affirming, deepening, some of what I have left out.

Sometimes--I really hate to garden. It's cold, my bones ache, it's dirty, I want to be inside. I want to be in bed. You can't throw your back out in bed (well, at least it's not likely at my age.)

Do you know how much work  a garden is? Even a low-work garden? How much dull, repetitive work there is? Work that needs to be done regardless of the weather. And it's not like I don't already have a job.

I do not care if it's good for me. I am getting no pleasure from it. And there is still more work to do. And more. How will I ever get it done? Not as young as I used to be. What was I thinking? What Was I Thinking?

Yes, sometimes that is what it feels like. Maybe not often, but sometimes. To pretend otherwise is to  cheapen reality.

But even when gardening feels like drudgery, there can remain three important things: hope, faith and love.  Nothing much this side of Heaven comes without effort. There are always good days and bad days. Anything worth doing looks impossible if you look at it in totality, but if you just put one foot in front of the the other, sooner or later it gets done.



I have found that when I work out of love the difficult bits are still difficult, but not impossible. Where as if I work out of more mixed motives, I have a harder time when I hit the difficult stuff. And it helps to assume and accept that there will be difficult stuff. Even in a garden.

To embrace reality means to accept it. I'm not one of those who thinks we completely construct our own reality through our attitudes and thought processes. But I do think our thought processes can make a difference to our behaviors, which reverberate through reality. To have faith and hope means to go on. To try to do good where you can. To forgive. To ask to be forgiven. To be open to grace.

Cause at some point the weather turns, your bones stop aching and this happens--

 

A foretaste, perhaps, of a truer being.

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All the photos in this post are of Erdenheim Farms, except for the last, which is of Rittenhouse Town.

Wissahickon Style V, or Who will Spring for Spring Bank?

Post 32

Ahhh, Spring. Spring forward. Spring out. Usually once a year... unless you have a an actual spring stream running through your property..

Somewhere out there is a local history buff with a mere extra million burning a hold in her or his pocket. One who needs an interesting house where the kids get their own space, yet is intimate enough for a normal size family. One who wants a house with a bit of soul to it.

A peaceful place, with its own creek,with an extra lot of wilderness that can be gardened or, perhaps built on later. Maybe a small Green cottage to retire in, while the next generation takes over the main house. A house part colonial, part late Victorian,  part recent, sensitive renovations.

It  even has its own ruins-- two stone, spring houses, one of which houses what must be the most tastefully situated Jacuzzi ever. There is even a hook half-hidden in the stone for your towel, if you feel you need it. For notice the porch stairs on your left, you can spring back into the house without anyone the wiser.

So, why buy a McMansion when you can hang out where colonial Rittenhouses, Poe, lunatics, Frank Furness (his being the addition,) and the gentleman  who commissioned the "Toleration" statue in Fairmont Park, have hung out?

Did a mention that, besides this view, this wonder also includes a sleeping porch, a breakfast porch, a house-long glassed-in winter garden and a house-long open porch? A walled garden? A servants' back staircase so sunny and glossy you could sit there and read all day? A dining room fireplace mantel of King of Prussia marble? Did you know there -was- King of Prussia marble?

Sold?  I hope so. You will get your money's worth and more on this one. If so, contact the broker:

Loretta C. Witt, CRS, GRI Associate Broker
Prudential Fox & Roach Realtors 14 West Evergreen Avenue Philadelphia, PA 19118
office 215-247-3750 direct line 215-248-6522 e-mail Loretta@lorettawitt.com

P.S. If you google Spring Bank you will see the price listed as as $1,200.000. I believe it is now closer to a million. And no, I am not related to anyone involved with this, nor am I getting (nor want) any incentive for writing this post. I just think this property is part of what makes this part of the world such an interesting, beautiful and meaningful bit of earth, and would like to see it tended by an appreciative hand.

For old pictures of how Spring bank once looked, check out the Library Company's photo Here and some from the Univ. of Penn., Here

Wish upon a Wishniak, or Spring Cherries and Schist

Post 31

It is officially spring, a time of new beginnings. So sit down, maybe on a wall of Wissahickon Schist, look at the blooming cherries (in Polish: wisnia,) and have a shot of Wishniak to better wishes coming true. Above are some of the old, magnificent weeping cherries in historic Rittenhouse town.

Blooming trees are one of those things that can make me catch my breath in wonder. The ephemeral, whirly beauty can be overwhelming in the best way.

Here is one of the cherries we planted outside our house. I bought its tiny self  when it was no longer in bloom, and hence on sale from Home Depot. It was so small I grew it in our front lot for a few years till it got big enough to at least pretend to be a street tree. And as you can see, it is doing fine as such.

It is a Yoshino cherry, probably a Somei-yoshima. I like it because it is such an easy color to work with, the buds are reddish and open to flowers of such a pale pink they seem white, while retaining a red center. This does not clash with the daffs or tulips near it.

So, if wishes were flowers, what would this one be?

 

And even wishes need structure. Perhaps made from a good stone like Wissahickon Schist. So--do you know where to get some. Many of our old houses are made of it. What if you want to fix something, or build more? Where could you find it?

  

Wissahickon Stone Quarry, LLC  is where you go. To quote from their website:"We mine on-site and quarry from the bedrock which makes the stone very hard; the schist has the same bearing weight as limestone.  We guillotine cut on site and our saw cut veneer is cut by experienced professionals in upstate Pennsylvania, which includes beautiful corner cuts." 

 

At 1-A Waverly Road Glenside, PA 19038, just off Cheltenham Ave.

 

Wishes should be practical as well as beautiful. And so, good wishes for good wishes all around.