The last couple of weeks have brought on new beginnings in the sculpture garden. Who knows which direction the continuing artwork will take. At least the Cat In The Hat approves of one of the older works.
I walk through the back 40, climb through the fence onto the floodplain. I am along the creek, walking, hoping to clear my head, maybe see the winter cluster of carp in the water. Instead I see the resident owls of the large sycamore tree: staring at me.
Since it is happening in any case I might as well go with the flow and do more commentary on my Arboretum Art as it is happening, as it is being created both on the ground and in my head. I plan to show images of the work as it is being created…whether it ever goes anywhere in the future or in time or not. Below are a couple of examples.
The October snow has melted and the colors are showing themselves again. The one leftbehind section of the sculpture garden picks up the evening light. The new mulberry trunk seat is in process where one will be able to meditate, overlooking the creek.
Winter showed its stormy side early this year. The trees were still holding their leaves, turning orange. The sheep were still grazing on green grass. But winter showed up early this year, covering the orange leaves and eating the remaining grass.
The colors are changing, the weather is adjusting. Window on the world contrasts with its background.
Here is the new gate that leads into the “back40.” It was made from 100 percent farm grown Locust wood.
The Sculpture Garden in the “back 40” is still recovering from Irene and there is plenty of work to be done to finish it. But in spite of the dirty stones, one can still sit next to the willow leaves and relax, meditate with the stones, the sky, the creek below.
When I planted some new trees this spring, several American Larch, Kentucky Coffee, and Dawn Redwood, in what is known as the Back 40, I brought along some New England Asters. I planted them at the base of the trees to see how they survived. And hoped for some fall color somewhere after the Crape Myrtle and before the Mums. They survived and thrived in spite of the sheep and deer. They had some help from wire frames but I was reminded of the poem we recited as children while planting sweet corn, here paraphrased: One for the sheep, one for the deer, one for the vole and two to grow.
They are now blooming.
There were too many color changes, too many new images appearing. But number 1 was the expansion of the sculpture gardens. They seemed to be popping everywhere. One of the most recent is the beginnings of a Zen stone garden in the back 40. More on that later. So in any case we couldn’t let the blog slide when the farm is sprouting everywhere.
