'JUNE’S GARDEN
VILLAGE OF FLOWERS
(conclusion)
Last summer in a small garden identified by a
sign as “Tom my’s Garden,” a lone sunflower had
grown to almost eight feet tall. The blossom was
about the size of a dinner plate. I later found out
Tommy is a young boy and that his mother had
helped him plant his first garden. This year she said
she gave him a packet of carrot seeds as he was
anxious to plant another garden. Laughing, she
added, “Carrots aren’t his favorite food. I’m hoping
if he grew some he also might like them better.”
Helping a child to start a garden and to
become aware of the surrounding nature, plants,
birds, etc. seems to be the common denominator that
has led many people to become avid gardeners.
Several of the gardeners I interviewed for this series
and asked, “When did you become interested in
gardening?” answered that they gave credit to having
been introduced to gardening as a child by someone
in their family.
Gardening is also healthy. Quoting an article
that appeared in the magazine Prevention by writer
Denise Foley, titled “Dig In and Get Fit,”
“Gardening builds muscles, reduces stress, lowers
blood pressure, fosters creativity, provides
optimism, bums 340 calories an hour, warms the
soul and puts flowers and food on the table.”
The ladies visiting here from Kansas who
were so impressed with the abundance of flowers
asked me, “Do you live here? What a beautiful
town! Does everyone garden?” Because of Foley’s
statement, in answering I’d add, “Gardening does
warm our souls and we are especially optimistic as
each spring we plant more even after experiencing
cold stormy winters.”
Recently I was introduced to weathergrams.
Weathergrams are small strips of paper with single
lines of poetry inspired by nature, written with
waterproof India ink. The strips are hung on the
branches of trees or shrubs in the garden. The
concept was taken from the Orient, where strips of
paper are hung in Shinto shrines or in their gardens.
In the Orient some have no writing at all, so when
the strips of paper flutter in the breeze the motion is
meant to suggest that one pause and observe. Others
may have a prayer or simple statement without
elaboration such as Haiku poetry.
The one I received to hang on a branch of a
pine tree in my garden is made of heavy brown
paper. Written in calligraphy, it says, “If you carry
flowers butterflies may follow your footsteps.”
If a weathergram was made for all the
gardeners and gardens in this series “Village of
Flowers,” it might read, “If you create a garden the
whole world may find the path to your door.”
My favorite line, however, is not Haiku, nor
would it be appropriate for a weathergram, but came
from a self-described ‘Old Timer.’ When I asked
him, “What would you call a beach garden?” his
answer was, “Throw out a bunch of nasturtium
seeds around a piece of driftwood you’ve gathered
from the beach. That’s a beach garden.”
Even though most of the gardens in our town
do not resemble what he described, if all you plant
are nasturtiums that thrive in our damp coastal
environment, there is nothing prettier nor brighter in
color than a garden that overflows with nasturtiums.
Nature also sows a garden that covers the
clear-cut hills that surround Cannon Beach with pink
blossoms of foxglove in the month of June.
Whether seeds are planted by humans or sown by the
winds, during the summer months our small coastal
town glows with all colors of flowers that are planted
in an informal style.
This winter has been difficult, vexing, protracted,
troubling I find myself unseasonably cold inside and
dis-spirited Last Friday morning my friend Meadow
approached me and asked if I would accompany a group
o f families who planned to walk into Short Sands
Beach.
"We feel the need to reclaim the park for ourselves,"
she told me.
At 9:00 a.m. Saturday morning, a sizable assemblage
gathered quietly in the parking lot, mothers, fathers,
grandparents, children. In the soft rain that morning we
moved toward the trail, pausing several moments at a
kiosk garlanded with flowers and remembrance
messages Barbara Temple-Ayres ignited a bundle of
sage she had placed in a small brass censer Smoke
mingled with our breath and voices, drifting into dark
stands o f ancient cedar and spruce. We walked together
loosely, free to engage in our own thoughts, yet
collected and unified in purpose In a very short time
we reached the beach and rested together.
It was a small thing, really, a handful o f moments, a
mist of tears, a loose quilt of memories. I was very
moved, though, and have thought of it many times in
the ensuing days.
Far too frequently we seem called upon to sanctify
broken ground, heal shattered spirits, cleanse the sullied
earth. I feel tired sometimes, disappointed and
confused. I also sensed, that morning, the power we
possess, collectively, to transfigure a world vitiated and
often dark. Often, though, small actions, right-hearted,
peaceful, grounded in kindness and sympathy for our
fellow man have substantial impact, sweeping and
pervasive.
I think it may be time, even past time, to reclaim
other things we have lost: a sensitive and
compassionate bond with our children, unity with the
natural world, a link with our history and traditions.
Each of us possesses a unique voice; collectively we're
a choir, jubilant and strong. I have always been proud
of my village and its special qualities. We will
persevere and prevail.
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(The above is Professor Lindsey’s reaction to the
shooting of two park rangers at Oswald West State
Park last month, ed.)
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S p e c ia l iz i n g in :
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AWARNING
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Tom Robbins
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