When my father was at Hospice, his room had French doors that opened onto a courtyard garden. The garden was, at that time, in transition, a fitting metaphor for that time in our lives. A man and a woman were working there, their hands digging into the clay soil. With their hands they carefully removed old overgrown plants and weeds. They lovingly left one plant; a woman who was residing at Hospice wanted to watch that plant. It sat amidst the piles of dirt.
Lu, the Hospice gardener, told me about thier vision for the space: a waterfall and a pool of water, a mix of perennials and annuals. Maybe some artwork. We shared moments in that hot garden space, talking about things and sharing thoughts. Thoughts about the beauty of doing things by hand, one step at a time.
I thought of Lu on and off after my Dad’s death, wondering how she was and how the garden was progressing. One late summer day, I pulled into a parking space in front of a group of stores. Looking up, I spotted a familiar figure walking into a store. I followed her into the store and continued the conversation that had occurred in a place and time that seemed so long ago, and, at the same time, just yesterday.
I will return to the garden in the spring so I can see the what it is like; we’ll both be removed from the rawness of that time last summer. I am grateful to those gardeners, their hearts and hands, and to the work that they do, thoughtfully connecting people to places that are far removed from many of our lives.
By fromskilledhands (
November 20, 2007 at 8:33 pm)
· Filed under Change, Here, Musings
This is Thanksgiving week, a time, for me, at least, of reflection. Our lives are comprised of a series of “moments,” that, in the blink of an eye, can change our experience in ways we could never have imagined.
Last night, I visited my dear friend and neighbor at Hospice. She was unable to speak, but she clearly heard my voice and was aware of my presence. I talked to her about some of what we’ve shared: wrestling with our gardens and our dogs and our own demons; coffee on the front steps; the losses of our mothers and fathers within months of each other; her cancer diagnosis and treatment. A series of moments, extraordinary in their ordinariness. Two lives that came together on this quiet lane-and-a-half country road.
In a quietly eloquent post, Judy Merrill Larsen looks at these times. She writes,
“Our lives are full of such moments, but many times we don’t even know it. We don’t know what we’ve narrowly escaped, what’s just missed us. And so, for what we know and don’t know, I am thankful. For the times the salt didn’t pour down and for the strength to continue when it did, I give thanks.”
I also give thanks. I am grateful for the incredible beauty of this amazing planet, for the warmth of family and friends, and for the wisdom of the experiences of those whose lives have touched mine.
Art feeds the spirit and soul; it brings light and life to being. Art can make your heart sing and your spirit soar. Something that comes from the heart through the hands. It is no accident that there is art in heART.
When you support an artist, you affirm the creative spirit. You have the opportunity to see the world in a different way, as the artist’s vision is manifested in the piece he or she has made.
Why do you buy art? What does art bring to your life?
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