Friday, July 13, 2007

L.A. Observations Series -2 : Gardens

Copyright 2007- All Rights Reserved


I just finished watering my garden. That’s one of the things I love doing. Besides the delight of getting to stare at the greens, reds, and purples that make the primary colors of my garden, when I water, I get an added bonus. The water releases the oxygen stored in the flowers and plants so that when I get a whiff of it, I get put into this mellowed out, peacefully happy frame of mind. Which was a state of mind I tried to find when I was drinking and never could.

Today, while I was out there, an orange and black butterfly of intricate design and delicacy came by for a visit. I was glad to see it. Besides being lovely to look at, butterflies pollinate plants. We need them to do their job to get our food and to keep the plants and flowers going. Problem is, they’re not coming out in numbers anymore. Because of climate changes and the effects of global warming, they say the butterfly population is decreasing. Dying out, they mean. And I’ve been worried about that. So I was fascinated to see the lone butterfly today. I don’t see them often at all anymore.

When I moved to Los Angeles in 1981, the first thing I noticed was the beautiful gardens everywhere. A rainbow of flowers lavishly landscaped in the yards, oleander shrubs waving pink and rose and white blossoms at you as you drove the freeways, the white yucca blossoms of the desert, or the huge beaver tail cacti sprouting yellow or pink spikey flowers…it was all so lush to me. So beautiful against the background of Santa Monica mountains tipped with snow. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.

People in Los Angeles love to garden, I think. My neighbor is a container gardener; she has a jillion plants in pots of every hue and shape. Down the street, there's another neighbor whose front yard is devoted to herbal plants grown hugely gorgeous; their exotic smell draws me every time I pass. I can never resist poking my nose into their fragrant branches. Several blocks away from my apartment, at the residence apartment building for seniors, I see pots and pots of flowers and shrubs on the small patios outside of their living rooms. And I stop by to peek at the flourishing garden some of the seniors keep outside the building. It overflows every summer with yellow squash vines running here and there, green onions, red lettuces, green beans, cherry tomatoes, and a whole lot more plants that I can’t name. I envy the gardeners their green thumbs.

Some would say I have one, too…a green thumb, I mean. Maybe, I do. I never knew one way or another until I got sober and started putting that energy and time into planting and digging that I used to put into drinking. (I had to do something. My engine was revving like mad when I was newly sober. Nature abhors a void, you know.) I think I put in about 8 gardens or more in various spots in the yard where I used to live. Suffice to say, I was forever digging. I had white and red and lavender and pink roses. I had white jasmine trailing through the branches of a pine tree. I had lemon trees, walnut trees, fig trees, apple trees, blackberry vines. In containers, I had red, rose, peach impatiens, geranium angel winged pink begonia, purple lobelia, and whatever other gorgeously-colored flower I could find.

Color, you see, is my weakness. Something about how my eyes are drawn to the light. Something about how my eyes love how light reflects from some objects and absorbs from others to illuminate and paint a palate of primary, secondary, and complementary colors…what we call the color spectrum of reds, greens, blues, yellows, and magentas. Gardens show me a color spectrum so gorgeous that sometimes I just get filled up. They do something really, really good for my soul.

I saw two particularly beautiful public gardens just lately at the Fullerton Arboretum (http://www.arboretum.fullerton.edu/), a most relaxing and beautiful place where they have desert and water-wise plants, ducks waddling and wading all over the place. The other was the South Coast Botanic Garden where they have gardens specifically devoted to titillating our sense of smell and our touch sense, and where you can buy the most lusciously beautiful plants for little or nothing (http://www.southcoastbotanicgarden.org/). Do yourself a favor and find a garden to meander through. You won’t regret it.