Monday, August 21, 2006

More Garden Views!






Well, why not? I love to look at the gardens, they're here for so fleeting a time, and already, (sigh) it's careening toward the end of August. And then where's summer? Gone, alas, done with for yet another year. It's not fair, really it isn't. The colour, form, texture and great aesthetic beauty we view contemplating our gardens and the ongoing miracle of Nature, performed unerringly before our very incredulous, but appreciative eyes will soon be gone. We will mourn.

On the other hand, we will welcome Fall, another beautiful time of year, a transition time between the bounty of summer and the sere cold of winter. Meanwhile, not such a great amount of time will have passed between the seasons, and I will recall the "surprise" felt every time I would glimpse the gardens, looking out of the windows of the house to espie another garden landscape, framed by the house interior.

Outside from the inside is the mantra, and it is a wonderful one.

So to recall those serendipitous moments I take careful photographs and then cherish them, lining them up neatly in those nice folders in my computer. I can see them readily merely by selecting the appropriate folders. Photographs, I have them in spades, echoeing each and every season, and in between - all the elusive flowers that bloom in the spring, they're there, along with the succession marking each of the blooming times of the various perennials.

There for a purpose, of course: to access whenever the mood takes, particularly during the long winter months when we're treated to a purely monochromatic landscape, bereft of bright colour and the season's surprise. So in the winter do I look at the summer garden photographs? I do not. Well, why not, for heaven's sake. Because to do so would distract me in my appreciation for what winter offers in its own special way. And were I to bring up those luscious, colourful photographs of a now-sleeping garden I would feel such great regret. Better to wait and see the real thing.

But they're there, the photographs, should I ever relent.

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