"If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden."
FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT, THE SECRET GARDEN
*above images from s+n's wedding celebration this past weekend. while scouting a few days prior, I found a couple charming little gardens nestled amongst some little businesses, actually to be honest the bottom image is from a portion of garden that sits out front of a little old house slash thai restaurant… does that fact take away from the glamour of the photo? anyhow, naturally these little gardens I came to refer to as 'the secret gardens'. they were unexpected and perfectly kept yet not overly, and they were very simple in manner. they were a little moody, as any coastal garden is, but they were willing to entertain the most quiet moments of s+n's day; with their fleeting little petals smiling all around us and their little leaves shedding tiny tears of morning drizzle on s's gown. I was forced to appreciate more then ever the chance I had been given to enjoy the gift of life with this beautiful, blooming couple that is stephanie+noah, and at a time that that sort of joy was most needed, dare I say for all of us.
here I am though, days later, sitting and really thinking about why that setting and that time and that couple and those photos has me still so emotional. this year, more then any other before it, I am completely consumed by all that has been the season of spring: the prospects, the challenges, the transformations, the spirit, the birth, the beauty, and the question of when it all will end… I've been left to experience day after day the most obscene obsession with the unknowns that this time brings. as extreme as the changing spring landscapes, so have been my own emotions. I've delved head first into this earth and am letting it's many rebirths invigorate me with their essence and energy. I decided at the end of winter that I was going to force myself to seek therapeutic aid; little did I know that it would seek me with vines of knowledge and passion and experience. there is such beauty in this time, but it is changing beauty. for one beauty to come, one beauty must end.
seeing the first buds grow into the most accomplished blooms. morning after morning, night after night tending and nurturing the return of stalks and fronds and hues of feathery whites and golden yellows all the best you can within reason, then being left to hope and pray that it all makes it to another dawn where you rise and run straight to the garden checking to see that they are all well… but you know, you know that one morning you will walk to the door, open it, and see that the crows have plucked two of your seedlings out from their tiny beds and you will find them un-revivable all wilted and torn on the lawn inches away; you'll see what was, just yesterday, the peony that smiled and laughed at you spewing it's little sweet scents… well now, overnight, all but a few of it's petals have fallen. you look in near horror when you realize the two other blossoms are soon to follow. you inspect closer and sit and marvel at their remaining beauty while you still can; even that one blossom, with only a few petals left and its stamens exposed more then you've ever seen, stripped of all the pollen that was... even that one is still so, so lovely to you. and you sit and you already miss what it was.
you are so glad you had it while you did, but your eyes and your heart hurt at what you see. it's beauty has changed. and it's beauty is near it's end.
while some may be quick to dispose of what is a seemingly unsightly little bloom; nearly naked and all, you, you sit and you caress the fallen pieces and let their softness still be beautiful even if only for a few more minutes. the sweet velvet petals you run across your cheeks and the faded pink hues you still find so lovely and lively in color. then the time comes, the time where you must leave all that is left of those three peony blossoms. and you are terrified. you are terrified that if you leave them for just a moment you may return to what you know will become stems that will need to be lopped off. and so you do. you leave and after a few wrenching mornings of opening that back door to see them sadly saying goodbye, you finally open it to find the last petal has fallen.
and so you repeat to yourself, "for beauty to come, beauty must end..."
...and now beauty is freedom.