Over
time, the ideas in Toby
Hemenway's book Gaia's Garden, 
transformed my thinking, inviting experimentation
with fewer paths, more curves & the
integration of pollinator-
friendly plants.

My family
thinks it's crazy to
redesign the garden every
few years as each one seems pretty
cool, like this rounded mounded central axis
filled with a mix of annual vegetables and perennials.
But for me, these changes reveal how this garden was becoming
more than just a space to grow vegetables. It was
a safe place for me to connect with and
explore the power of the
earth herself, this
thing called
Gaia.

But
that's just
what I did, creating
a circular space aligned with
the quadrants of a compass and based 
on historic herb garden designs.
I didn't know what this
new space would
be like...

There's
work to do 
at home and all
around, so we've been
working - digging & mulching,
pruning & planting. It
​feels good to
​work hard.

And
even though
these phlox are out
of control and need attention,
I'm OK with their extravagant abundance
because five years ago, there was
nothing in that particular place
but a neglected corner
of the terrace.

Those
lupin blew over
from a neighbor's field,
but the comfrey by its side and
those chives behind were intentionally
planted to increase soil fertility on what was once
a rocky dry hillside. These woodland phlox, so different
from those flowers surrounding the bird,
thrive in a space that was once
a pile of sticks.

These
phlox and
this myrtle (or
Vinca Minor) have
finally merged on the
hillside by our driveway.
5 years in the making,
this space is, at
last, feeling
whole.

I am
grateful
to my garden
for reminding me
that neglected places
can be transformed. There
just needs to be a plan, focused
attention, and patience to
let what will emerge,
​emerge.

Purples
are beginning
to share the stage with
other colors, like these white
flowers on a lone Hawthorn tree that
is abuzz. It was for these pollinators that we
created this garden in the first place, so hearing them
in action gives me hope and purpose as I
go outside to get back
​to work.

What is it
about corn husks,
besides their enticing shade of
light green, fanlike spread on the pile,
and their capacity to
​protect?

For me, it is
much more than the
reassuring taste of what they contain.
It has to do with their history, and the fact that corn
was originally a gift from the indigenous people who lived in
New England to my people, who showed up
500 years ago, unannounced and
unprepared. The results
were not pretty.

I am deeply 
grateful for the gift
of corn then and now. Though
today it has a different purpose, perhaps,
inspiring a new point of view on the conversations
that gift started centuries ago. Who has the
right to what land and for what
purpose? And who is 
going to care
​for it?

It is an honor
that later today I will
be among friends new and old,
celebrating these Compost  Compositions.
They are at once framed compositions of color, shape
and texture as well as narratives about what it
means to live in our world today - - the 
beauty and the mess of it all. Some
days it feels more beautiful
​than others.

Today,
I choose to see
the beauty of what is,
not just in the compost pile,
but in my life. Please come see the
show at AVA Gallery.
​It's really cool.

And also, please
take a moment this weekend
to express gratitude for all those before
us who made our current
harvests ​possible.

And
​there is more.
Behind these photographs
there is me, a woman in mid life
choosing to share her work
and, by default, her
story - - 

Perhaps
that is why last year I had
so much fun dismantling and composting
my Harvard and UVA Degrees.
​Why not explore? 

Or, perhaps
that is why I am OK
sharing my first attempt at decorating
a silk dress with embroidered
imagery of my own
design.

Now
​that it is Show Time
the connections between these
experiments becomes
clearer. 

​