Love Letters

seeing color...

Jun 12, 2024

Hello,

It’s been a generous week filled with visiting gardens, creative learning and some of my favorite things, like sweet peas and oysters and art and ginger ice tea — and, oh my, a remarkable apricot galette. It’s good to get outside of my familiar, days worn smooth by habit to the point where it’s hard to tell one day from the other. Enter the Field Trip Society, classes and adventures for curious grownups. Last Saturday, Cambria — Field Tripper-in-Chief, invited me to attend a workshop with artist Shelli Markee where a small group of us learned to create wire botanicals using humble hardware store materials. I’ve known Shelli since back in my nursery days — you meet the nicest people in the garden — and over the years my husband and I have collected several of her wirework pieces that hang in our living room. I was thrilled to have several hours in a glass house set in a beautiful garden at Bella Luna Farms, whose kitchen turned out that amazing apricot galette. Connecting with friends, meeting new people and enrichment learning is always a good idea. At least that’s what I tell myself as later this month I head off to this year’s Slow Flowers Summit in Banff. I’m not in the cut flower/flower farmer space per se, except in my wild imagination. Attending this annual get together of floral professionals from around the country is a reality check on hard work, but does nothing to dampen my dreams.

I’m so glad you’re here,

xo Lorene

My colors

June 5, 2024

You might see an oyster shell.

I see farming on an Anderson Island beach with beloveds.
I see feasting.
I see celebration, or maybe just snacks.
I see a beautiful setting with rustic picnic tables, a mini lighthouse, and a rocky beach along Chuckanut Drive.
I see pearls.

June 6, 2024

Look beyond the primary color, in this case violet blue, to find the hidden hues, like that dull pinkish brown or puce. Including secondary, not necessarily pretty colors paints a more true portrait of the plant.

Depending on who you ask, puce is either the color of a faded rose or that of specks of dried blood left by fleas. My favorite, ever-present resource, The Secret Lives of Color by Kassia St. Clair is a deep dive into how color marks history, which is of course how we live our lives.

Oh, if only I could peek at pre-revolutionary France when some fashionable colors were named: “indiscreet complaints,” “stifled sigh” or “the vapors.” Fellow chromaphiles (read: color dorks) you’ll love St. Clair’s book that explores the fascinating history of color through the ages. The book has brilliant production quality, the chapter title pages alone are a treasure.

Anise hyssop (Agastache foeniculum) for the bees, the tea pot and those gorgeous flowers.

Share a handmade garden

June 7, 2024

44 years ago today my dad woke me up by saying, “It’s your wedding day.” My groom was a child, I was even younger. It scares me to think back on all that we didn’t know. But all these years later, we’re still here and honestly, I think we’re just getting good at this marriage thing.

A few years ago there was noise of “renewing” our vows. Not from me — with every passing year I get less sentimental, unless you’re a memory-provoking plant (sweet peas, fava beans, anemones… the list is long) or one of the Littles for whom I will make an utter fool of myself declaring my love from the rooftops. In hindsight, I think I’m superstitious about not rocking the boat on a relationship that’s been tried and tested so many times since 1980 (?!!!!?) Instead, we’ve come up with recognizing small, daily moments of recommitment.

Small daily kindnesses mean more to me than a formal “renewing” of words that we —OK, I — wrote all those years ago (cringe). Like getting up and making coffee every morning —> renewing our vows. When he changes the sheets on the bed, even more so. With two knees, one back and a broken elbow, among other less visible health challenges, I think we’ve got the “sickness and health” part down to a caretaking art — definitely, renewing our vows. The short hand of memory, renewing our vows.

My pandemic companion. My anchor through brutal and terrifying years. My goofball that laughs with me until tears stream down our faces and we’re gasping for air; so often the birth of yet another shorthand memory.

All to say: Honey I looooooove you.

June 8, 2024

I cheered with I found this bronze volunteer nasturtium seedling. A slight comfort to see the garden caring for itself when almost all of my zinnia transplants uh… failed to thrive. I think there’s still time to replant after this wonky warm-but-mostly-cold spring.

June 9, 2024

I find such comfort in the familiar grid. I guess 6 years of distilling colors to a tidy format will do that. I have to force myself to go beyond that comfort zone. Why? It’s not like the grid police are forcing me. All can say is that the broken/rough edges are intuitive, yet they make me very uncomfortable while I’m painting.

Returning to a non-grid color study from the distance of a few days is completely different, and far less threatening. Why oh why do I feel “threatened” by this shift. I think we can all agree, change is challenging. Maybe this is practice for moving into the next.

June 10, 2024

Husband: “And so it begins.”

Picking the first sweet peas.

June 11, 2024

Seasonal…

Thank goodness for our local Sunday Farmers’ Market, a chance to revel in delicious — from gorgeous fat spears of purple asparagus to ruby radishes, even the year’s first fava beans! — crops that I surely could grow in (very) limited quantities but don’t have to because local farmers are doing it so well already.

It’s taken me a very long time to arrive at that realization and, once you add in time and resources, I’ve got the $15 radishes to prove it.

A favor to ask

The roses in the back garden are budded and blooming, but the sweetly fragrant, deep pink rugosa rose that appears on the cover of my book, Color In and Out of the Garden, holds a special place in my heart. It’s been a little more than two years since this hot little number came into the world. Since then I’ve met so many people who have shared with me how much they’ve enjoyed my work, how they’ve gifted my book to their mom/aunt/sister/best friend. I can’t express how much I value this support and positive feedback. If that includes you, I’d love it if you would pop into Amazon and leave a 5-star review. Book sellers, from neighborhood independents to Big Box stores, look to Amazon reviews when deciding what to purchase for their stores. And you certainly don’t have to have purchased the book from Amazon to leave a favorable review. Here’s a link to my book on Amazon where you can leave your 5-star review. Thank you from the bottom of my grateful heart! I appreciate you.