Originally Published June 1, 2012
Well, it’s the last day of May and it certainly has become clear that flowers are the artistic masterpiece of nature. The reds and oranges and yellows of both perennials and annuals make me flabbergasted that Earth could have such a sense of beauty. It’s as if the greenery of the world starts to notice its summer and decides to show off and brag, “Look, humans! Look at what I can do!”
People paint and flowers bloom. And if you were my brother, Alex, you would decide to kidnap the beauty of Dahlias and Petunias and then paint.
He has decided to build a closet garden of herbs and flowers, held in wooden boxes that he will stain a deep dark brown with a touch of finishing. He is puncturing holes in the wood where water will fall out like a fountain into the lower level of plants. In the center container he’ll keep goldfish. It has been fascinating to see a man that I would hardly describe as the gardening type, become captivated by flowers. He has started making comments like,
“Look how pretty!” and, “Oh, now those leaves are really beautiful. See that red?”
I wondered if this was still the Ivy League engineer that I knew. I wondered if this was still the man that played football and ran high school track. Was this the dude that was voted class clown? Yup. It was.
“You like flowers now,” I stated in awe as if I just witnessed a miracle. My brother picked up a tray of Cilantro and examined them before putting them back.
“Yeah”, he agreed, a bit surprised himself. “I wasn’t always into this gardening stuff. It’s pretty new.” As somebody who loves to paint, crochet and write, it was a near epiphany to watch somebody discover an additional form of artistic expression. Gardening! How had I never properly seen it before? Planting each colored leaf is like the stroke of a paint brush. The dirt, your canvas.
“Maybe I’ll start gardening too,” I thought to myself. When people ask me what I do I’ll say, “I’m an artist.” They’d ask, “Really? What’s your medium?”
And I’d say, “Mostly dirt and plants.” It would be splendid.
Who knew? Plants are the oil and canvas of the season.
Alysia Slocum