May 23rd, I awakened to a small bird just outside my window. I believe it’s a Wren, but I don’t think that’s what he calls him self. We who don’t have wings need names for every thing under the sun, but anyway it was a sweet way to start the day. Small birds don’t survive long in the mountains, so this is yet another perk-me-up to ease my Skyliner home sickness.
May 27th, the rhododendrons that surround the edges of my house, front and back, began to announce themselves. Their colors were lovely, deep magenta, dark pink, light pink, and lavender, oh I can’t forget the bright orange. The orange blooms might have been Azalea. What a learning curve I’m negotiating. There are literally hundreds of ground plants, bushes, and vines I have no clue as to their needs or wants. My deteriorating condition as a garden painter is evident, as you can see. Oops. you can’t see. In fact I’m in such a slump…I lost the painting. Maybe next year.
I find it deeply fascinating to learn that the plant’s colors and their placement, in the wild and in the garden, is vital. Orange and magenta, for instance, are blooms whose colors are situated across from one another on the color wheel. According to plant biologists when opposing colors grow close together they attract more bees and other pollinators and are healthier because they are better pollinated. This speaks to the intelligence of nature, and to me this is a beautiful “knowing.”