“Joyful, joyful we adore thee.”
Can you hear what calls to you? Will you honor it? This is the true essence of spirituality and thankfulness for me…….
Far be it for me to self-annoint as a Renaissance Woman. Mine is the orientation of the opposite, working always from the net-deficit position in life. So, I’ll go as far as to say that I am, yes, obsessed with all things of a Renaissance-orientation – including music, art, architecture, literature, drama and all that is visually-inspiring, including the stunning coaxing and cajoling of natural beauty into a so-called structured setting. And, going way out on a limb here I’ll say I feel some sort of cosmic kinship with the masters of English gardening like Vita Sackville West and the long list of her compatriots who were dedicated to natural beauty in the landscape and who inspired hoards of others – even novice gardeners and plant-admirers like me. Maybe I’m confusing myself with some nut-job looking odd fellow in one of those safari-looking hats with pencil, handbook and butterfly net. That’s probably more like it. But I can say, I do know what I am drawn to.
Those of you who read this blog and follow my most obsessive loves of flowers, food and traveling to my very favorite places to “see”, know that frequently I have some sort of psychic matching of experiences and specific musical pieces from my past. Today, as I was writing this, the hymn, “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee” popped into my head and, as I examined the lyrics, I realized how the subtle and slam-in-your-face ironies of life are so prophetic and thereby must be the equivalent of someone “up there” talking to me…… I’ll just leave it here – the perfect depiction of my day, yesterday:
courtesy: Henry J. van Dyke circa 1907
“Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee, God of glory, Lord of Love; Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee; opening to the sun above. Melt the clouds of sin and sadness; drive the dark of doubt away; Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day.”
I’m getting kind of used to careening over the GWB and into the Bronx. I kind of feel like Cruella deVille jockeying for position amidst those mega tractor-trailers whooshing by me in that constant stream of traffic on 95 N that makes most trips here a nightmare. How refreshing it is though to drive over the bridge and get off on the Bronx River Parkway and round the bend onto Southern Blvd. Instantly, I am elated at the prospect of the day.
I was here on Sunday, looking to lighten my mood on a rainy and gloomy day by visiting the Impressionist Exhibit in the Library. A detour on the way there into the Conservatory was totally inspiring. (I’ll cover this in another post.) There we found a huge display of the most beautiful poppies, delphinium, lupine, and other late spring and early Summer flowers. I was most happily impressed with the poppy formations and those dark purple flowers that sang out. The delphinium displays were really quite magical as well. Blue really inspires well in the garden, given it’s rarity in the landscape and in nature in general. (here is an article on the rarity of blue – http://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2015/06/08/true-blue/ that I found interesting).
While there, because of time, distance and weather woes, we decided to forgo the trek up to the Peggy Rockefeller Rose Garden. This was a visit for a stellar day. And yesterday did not disappoint.
I’m spending my time these days trying to cram in as many experiences that speak to me, and enthrall. This was yet another day here at NYBG this season that filled the bill. Honestly, when you go to a place and find yourself wishing you never had to leave, pay close attention to what is happening. When you “listen” to your reactions to things very closely you can begin to align your life with the experiences that make you most happy. What I have come to feel is that I most love the miracles of life as created by the masterful craftsmen and creative people of genius – like standing in front of the Duomos in Milan or Florence, trying to wrap my head around the spectacle of actual workers building those spires and flying buttresses, traipsing up and down the Seine in and around Paris, attempting to understand Baron Haussmann’s masterfully-crafted vision, seeing extraordinary paintings, and seeing the fruits of the masters of 125 years here in the Bronx at NYBG. Yes, it’s inspiring and I’m awestruck. These are the great days of exploration for me. Ones that I long to continue. For it is in this somewhat late stage that I realize how very limited my own education has been – and how, ironically, I have re-connected with the thread that once was instinctive in me.
Even though I am tired from yesterday’s long adventure and the heat, I could easily get right back in the car and return – no brainer. I’m sitting here wishing I had tickets to the Wynton Marsalis concert scheduled for tomorrow evening there. Ugh – sold out, long ago, I imagine. I would have just hung out in the Rose Garden in a simple black sheath until the time came……… Oh well. Note to self: must do better planning.
And so, my visit began:
at the garden shop
I arrived yesterday just around noontime and was greeted by crystalline-blue skies and great head-shaking feelings of wonder. When you’re there, the majesty of the place just takes hold of you and you find yourself thanking all of those people who had the vision, foresight and wisdom to endow this place for all to enjoy. It really is one of the biggest treasures of New York City.
Just a few landscape shots – the rest are on my 35mm.
I trundled on down from the entrance and spent a few happy moments enjoying what I posited must be the last of the season’s Siberian Iris.
more Sister Bertrille moments……
these alliums shine especially when caught on a darker background but with the sun on their faces
surprise! ranunculus in June! (my first ones came home this year in March)
I walked down past the Haupt Conservatory which is always a humbling sight. I spent , a little time in the gardens across from the restaurant. Sadly, the two shots of peonies, one above, are about all that are left to be had.
looks like a gardenia
loving my bee friends!
I tried to sneak into the restaurant for a seat at the counter – no luck – come back in 45 minutes I was told. Here I paused to consider, knowing the walk up to the Rose Garden, my primary objective, was at least 20 minutes, I set off and didn’t return for over 3 hours.
My experience with the Garden is that it is great to go during the week – but, I haven’t been overwhelmed with crowds on the weekends either. Yesterday there were lines of school buses along Southern Blvd and I wondered if it would be crowded. Honestly, this place is so large it really couldn’t ever be “crowded” except I guess in specific individual venues.
I walked along being pleasingly buffeted by lovely breezes that refreshed. The sun shone and it was hot but dry – really the perfect late June day come early.
Walking up and around you are again amazed at this oasis of Bronx-dom. These views surprise and delight.
On my way “up”:
more lovely Siberian Iris – always a treat
What I particularly love about the siting of the Rose Garden is that you walk along through the woodland settings, where you are surrounded by mostly green, which carefully deceives you into thinking it all just grew that way, and past the iconic buildings they are so lucky to have, and then you get to the crest of the hill. You then get one of those lo-and-behold moments as the rush of the entire rose garden presents to you, now in full bloom:
These photos, of course, don’t do the sight justice. You’ll just have to go yourself. But, I caution you not to wait too long. This is peak! And, give yourself ample time to really study and enjoy.
Alas, I spent my few moments gazing from above and then carefully, as if to savor, stepped down into the Peggy Rockefeller Rose Garden. I had been here a little over a month or so ago (Daffodil Weekend) and all was still quiet and un-developed. You can imagine my delight at seeing this space in all its glory. Honestly, these pictures do not do it justice. (I’m showing my iPhone only pictures here). I will work on getting my pictures off my 35mm and post them later.
Here you go and for my own collection – only a bit of the glory found in “the” rose garden. The British will blush with pride and perhaps more than a little bit of envy. We’ve studied well from them, I’d say.
Lots of treasured David Austins here. Here is one of my very favorites – Abraham Darby. Seeing these in this condition made me realize that although I do get a few gorgeous blooms on mine, this is what they are REALLY supposed to look like:
You’ll notice I am pretty transparent with my favorite colors. I’m not a big fan of red roses and I find they don’t photograph well anyway. This is a pretty good depiction of what I enjoyed. I could have spent many more hours here studying each and every name, habit and color. I was definitely amazed at the vigor of these plants (well, of course, if not here, where?) and also of the triumphant display of hybrid tea roses – a variety I avoid because they don’t perform well for me in the home garden – I try to over-expose with the gushing varieties. But here I was amazed that the hybrid teas were as vigorous as all the best of the ever-bearing shrub roses. I found myself wishing I could stay and study and work with the two horticulturists I got to chat with about my recent sawfly infestation and how to spray while protecting the bees.
Finally, as I was famished by 3:30 or so, I tore myself away and went to sit on the bench to wait for the tram and try to recover from dehydration. After waiting about 20 minutes to no avail, I decided to walk back, inhaling once again all the uplifting and inspiring beauty around me.
I’m heading back with my pastels and a good drawing pad to try my hand……. Hmmm should be interesting.
These are about half of my photos. I hope you enjoy them – maybe not quite as obsessively as I do. I really can feel my Dad when I’m walking around in places like this. He was a real lover of beautiful plants and a great plant caretaker. He had a keen eye and instinct for simple and humble garden design. I learned much from him and clearly got my passion from him. Is there a shared-passion gene?
Will keep you posted.
