Dancing In the Wind

 Today, October 28th, with the wind and with temperatures in the high 30s, my wife, Ann, four neighbors and I prepared Prospect Gardens for the rigors of winter. Today's experience reminded me of the following poem.  Kelly, our First Unitarian Community Life Minister, included the poem in a course for parents about spirituality that she and I lead.  After reading the poem, take a few minutes to reflect on the question it raises.
 

Dancing in the Wind by Rev. David Bumbaugh

Except for a few stubborn holdouts

the tree outside my window

is bare of leaves.

The wind, this October morning,

worries those few remaining leaves,

pulling them this way,

twisting them that way,

tugging at them until,

one by one,

exhausted by the ceaseless effort

to hang on,

they go dancing with the wind.

As they waltz past my window,

the stubbornness has left them

and they are finally free.

What is it about living things

that we expend so much energy

resisting the inevitable,

hanging on to that which is already gone,

hoping to sustain a season into times

that are unseasonable,

clinging to old habits

despite the pain and discomfort?

Why are we so afraid to dance in the wind?

Gardening at Prospect Gardens continues to raise questions of life for me. Today's session reminded me of my aging body as I hacked away at the dried out, brown six foot tall Rudbeckia that when planted were marketed as maturing to no more than four feet tall. Ah... the unpredictability of life and gardening. As the poem implies, one must learn how to dance with this unpredictability, let go and I would add, enjoy the dance to the extent possible. 

With this aside, enjoy the following seven pictures from today's Prospect Gardens dance.

 A section of the Gardens before we begin. Note the extent of green. Tonight, frost is predicted and I welcome and embrace this change. Our apartment, with south and west windows, makes a cozy refuge from the rigors of winter.  I will continue to enjoy this Fall season of transition, while anticipating the first snow fall.

 Here are remnants of those tall Rudbackia that I previously mentioned. Many still remain on the upper levels on the Regent side of the Gardens, waiting to be removed. Perhaps next week, we will get at them.

 The large pile of plant material. A testimony of our work and the lushness of the season's Gardens. It's been a great season for flowers and of course, weeds.  Last Wednesday, the city disconnected our water supply from the nearby fire hydrant. The water bill will be minimal because of the abundant rain this season. The two neighborhood associations who pay the bill will be happy.

 Loren joined us for awhile. Thanks for pitching in. He donated two clippers after discovering he had three of each in his garage. We will put them to good use. Thanks, Loren, for this too.

 Here's Ann N. all bundled up and pausing from her labors. Thanks, Ann, for joining the crew on this blustery day. 

Recall that last Saturday, we were basking in 70 degree weather.  Ann and I hosted another UW Homecoming celebration, the 31st year.   Once again my two brothers and their wives,  a couple that I have known for years, and a long-time friend and his girlfriend gathered. We celebrated our lives and connections to the university.  This year Ann and I went to the game. Its been a long time since we last attended. While I enjoyed the ritual, the noise level was so high, that I removed my hearing aids; another indicator of time passing.

Joyce and Laura posing with tools in hand. They were working the section in the first picture of this series. Thanks for coming out on a chilly day and once again contributing to maintaining the Gardens.

Here's Laura, Joyce and Ann N. taking a break and enjoying poppy seed cake with peach preserve. Ann, my wife, once again made the treat. She makes sure that we all take a break. I sometime forget about the passing of time.

As 3:30 pm approached, we gathered up the tools and I hauled them to the old shed bordering the Gardens. The shed, like me, has aged. It's been there for many years, long before the railroad tracks were transformed into the commuter path, now enjoyed by so many Madisonians. 

Before putting the tools away, I pulled out the orange plastic snow fence, making it more accessible. Installing the fences is yet another task before the Gardens experience winter. 

Got home and after checking email I jumped into the shower. The hot water felt so pleasant as it washed some of the aches from this body. 

The eighth season of gardening is fast coming to an end. I do not obsess about the day when gardening for me will end. Heeding the poem's message, I will let this cycle of life end without resistance and stubbornness.  The dance in the winds of life will continue.

"What We Need Is Here"

The following Wendell Berry poem expresses my feelings about today (September 16th), which included a pleasant and productive session caring for the Prospect Gardens. The poem was featured in the September's "The Madison Unitarian", our church's monthly newsletter.

The Wild Geese

Horseback on Sunday morning,
harvest over, we taste persimmon
and wild grape, sharp sweet
of summer's end. In time's maze
over fall fields, we name names
that went west from here, names
that rest on graves. We open
a persimmon seed to find the tree
that stands in promise,
pale, in the seed's marrow.
Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear,
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye
clear. What we need is here.


The deep blue Bottle Gentian (Gentiana andrewsii, to be precise) signals the approaching end of summer.  The 87 degree day, along with brilliant blue skies, made caring for the Gardens especially sweet. These Gentians are transplants from the backyard of the home we once owned on Keyes Avenue. The few original transplants are thriving and spreading over the rocks.

Contributing to my sense that 'What we need is here" are   neighbors who helped prepare the Gardens for the inevitable winter. To my left, is Percy. She is a Master Gardener,  maintains public gardens located in Wingra Park and is involved in restoring Glenwood Children's Park.

Starting in 1949, Jens Jensen, known as the dean of the naturalistic style of landscaping, begin transforming the once sandstone quarry into a children's park.  Stone from the quarry was most likely used to build North and South Halls, on the UW campus. North opened in 1851 and South Hall in 1867. I often walk to the nearby park and sit on sandstone slabs that make up the council ring designed by Jensen.  Sitting in the shady council ring helps me, to quote from the poem, be "quiet in heart, and in eye clear."

To Percy's left is Laura, one of our dedicated volunteers. Behind me is Loren and next to him is Steve. In the back row and behind Loren is Ken and to his right is Bob. We are on a break enjoying Hungarian pastry made by Ann, my wife. Picture courtesy of Ann.  These volunteers contribute so much to what is needed to maintain the Gardens.

 

Here's Ken and Steve trimming back plants. Thanks Ken and Steve for helping out today.

Ken just finished cutting Joe Pye Weed. Surrounding Ken are more green plants. If you look closely over Ken's left shoulder are purple blooming Asters. As these glorious summer days transition into fall, the Asters, along with other plants, will turn brown and go into dormancy, finding what they need as winter descends on the Gardens. 

Ken pauses to show us his form and technique. He is using Laura's Fiskar clipper. A wonderful tool that I have been saying we need for the last year. I think these will be on my Christmas list.

Percy emerges with a handful of weeds. Thanks Percy for pitching-in. The lovely purple Asters, plentiful throughout the Garden at this time of the year, make up the lower right corner of the picture. Japanese Sumac fill up the upper left corner.

Here's Bob pausing from his labors. Is Bob attempting to mimic Edward Scissorhands, the gentle, artistic character from the 1990 movie played by Johnny Depp?  Unlike Edward, Bob will never be an outcast from the Prospect Garden Crew. He is our valuable "Mulch King."   

This is a great picture of Loren that shows his capacity to laugh. I feel so fortunate that Loren is part of the regulars. Thank you, Loren.

Laura was so busy pulling weeds that she did not have time to look up. This picture captures her hard working spirit. Thanks Laura for your continued contributions to Prospect Gardens.

As we worked, geese did not fly over the Gardens as they did in Wendell Berry's poem. About a dozen appeared in the blue sky early this morning as I did my Tia Chi on the patio of our apartment. Living on the third floor has its advantages, including watching geese fly by, just above eye level.

The next time you see geese or while enjoying this season of transition, take time to reflect on Berry's poem.  Along with him pray, " not for new earth or heaven, but to be quiet in heart, and in eye clear. What we need is here."