Why does Beauty Matter?

Post 53

Why does beauty matter? (Sentiment alert here--if warmth make you uncomfortable, read no further.)

Why do we put so much work into gardens to grow beauty? While some would say the answer is self-evident, and others say that it is a matter of taste, or making something special or evolutionary tactics, I would like to imagine another possibility, one at the core of human experience.

You are born. If you are lucky, you are born to people who love you right from the start. It has nothing to do with anything you have done; it is pure gift. And these people who love you and who you come to love, take care of you, meet your needs and often even your wants. Theirs are the faces you associate with care and love. Their faces are beautiful to you.

 
 When you are a bit older you may notice that some of your friends have more pleasing faces than you initially thought. I remember talking to my Mom as a teenager about fixing up a female friend with a male acquaintance. My Mom thought I was greatly over-evaluating my friend's attractiveness. I had no idea what she was talking about. Anyone with eyes could see that my friend was a beauty.

Love sheds light around people you love, places you love, almost anything you love. Love makes the stuff of life beautiful, whether there is beauty in it to begin with or not.

 

So--is it possible that this connection, hardwired into our brains--sometimes works backward? That when we see beauty we feel loved? But are not aware that we are working backwards, from where the warm feeling is coming?
Then -- does this influences us to make beautiful things? To need beauty around us the way we need love? 

Love, that thing money can't buy, is a problem for consumerism. We can be sold stuff that ties in with love --but not the thing itself. We can be sold beauty. We are every day. Yet there are people who will tell you that art is more than an investment, that music moves your soul and that beauty somehow matters more than the money that may buy it.

                                                                      

Two Kindly Weeds: Morning Glory Grandpa Otts and Gloaming Mistflower

 Post 51

Early Fall is when the air freshens up and it is pleasure to go back into the garden, a pleasure, that is, until you notice the weeds.

As you start to clear stuff out: weeds and dead or rotting matter, mildewed stems and spotted leaves, you realize that there is less blooming than earlier in the season. Annuals, the ones that did not burn out in the heat, are still strong but most perennials are done.

If you are lucky some perennials will look good as they age , such as the cones of the Pee-Gee hydrangea, above right. Still, if it were not for two late-flowering, beautiful, rampant things,  much of the garden would loose luster well before its end.

Here is my hell strip with some pink asters and the two kindly weeds: Granpa Otts Morning Glory and Wild Ageratum, or Mist Flower.

Though they spread like green rampage, they can work well in a wild garden

And why would I call a Morning Glory a weed? Well, because this one acts like one; it's hard to kill, overpasses its boundaries and, if allowed, can strangle other plants. Nevertheless, it is a kindly weed because it does not get its full growth till late in the season when you have the space and need the color. Best of all, it is easy to yank or hoe out, you do not even have to dig.

Here is what the Seed Savers Exchange says about it--

"(Ipomoea purpurea) One of the original Bavarian varieties that started SSE. Given to Kent and Diane (Ott) Whealy in 1972 by her grandfather, Baptist John Ott, who lived on a 40-acre farm near St. Lucas, Iowa. Beautiful deep purple flower with a red star in its throat. Reliably self-seeds each year. Plants will climb 15' or more, if given support. Self-seeding hardy annual at Heritage Farm (zone 4)."

 So, buy one seed packet once, and you will have this forever. Because it is dark, and has a cool navy purple with streaks of hot violet, its flower, though small, looks  dramatic and dynamic.

 Mistflower, on the other hand, is a receding blue grey that looks best at twilight, when the blue takes on a weird, delightful glow. It is a bit of a filler since it looks best highlighted by bolder plants.

The way I handle its invasiveness is that every year, once bloom is done, I pull it out by its shallow roots. Yet, by June of the next year, it starts to pop up again. This is good, cause this is an area where I have had a lot of bulbs and spring ephemerals.  With this late riser, I get two seasons out of one patch of soil. 

For me, it's less effort to restrain vigorous plants than to cajole fussy ones. And I like the balance of wildness to tame that they engender. This is probably more of a reflection of my particular inner balance than of any practical gardening wisdom. 

Whatever it is that gives personal style to the garden, or any other aspect of your life, it comes from inside you.

 
All the tips in the world, books, quotes, guides, are just fodder for the deep part of yourself that creates.

That creates out of love. 

A Jubilee Parade for Labor Day: Zinnias

Post 50

I love zinnias. They are tough yet easy-going; sweet and exuberant; individualist yet cooperative  determined and brilliant.  And they get the job done.

Even though I have time, money and land, I can only create a garden because Nature (or Nature's God) has created life-- my own and that of plants.

My job is choosing the plants that will thrive and create beauty. But it's the plants that make it happen. You could say they are dependent on me,-- but only if you add that I am dependent on them.

So Happy Labor Day to all the zinnias of this world. May they (we) be properly paid for our honest labor that keeps this world functioning.

It is our productivity that produces value,

A fair portion of which value we have a right to,

And a duty to use that value,

So that we ourselves help create a better, more functional, more sustainable, more beautiful world.

We are all sub-creators, whatever our position in life.

Even when we think we do not have the power,

Even when we seem done,

 Until we return from where we came, and truly learn what our imperfect efforts,

 What our imperfect love,

Has created.

Happy Labor Day