Sunday marked the first day of Advent which, in the liturgical Christian tradition, is the beginning of the year, a time to prepare, to share the expectancy, clear away and make space for the coming of a child. The story of a wonder child or god child born around the winter solstice predates Christianity and is present in many ancient stories from the classical and new worlds. A Native American story relates that raven sees the people living in darkness, becomes a pine needle which is swallowed by the chief's daughter who gives birth to raven in the form of a child. The raven-child steals, one by one, the stars, moon, and finally the sun from the chief releasing them into the sky. At this time of year, we light candles and burn fires to drive the dark away and to prepare for the returning of the light. In any case, it was with this feeling of expectancy that I went wandering in the garden in the dying light to cut stems for today's arrangement that give hope for the returning of the light and rebirth even as the old year is dying. (If you're interested in historic winter celebrations and the roots of many of our traditions, I highly recommend the book The Winter Solstice by John Matthews.)
Here's what I found. Lots of rose hips, Euphorbia wulfenii which looks green all winter, seed heads from grasses, a branch of Paulownia tomentosa seed pods and some Berberis 'Orange Rocket' (just because it's pretty) and a few Callicarpa branches.
Sunday is a busy day and my arrangements tend to get thrown together fairly quickly. Around the vase are crowded other things sitting around the house/garden containing the promise of new life.
A couple of amaryllis (hippeastrum) bulbs that just came home yesterday, a narcissus 'Angels in Water' from china, a bird's nest found in the garden years ago, some tulip bulbs from a bag on the back porch that are still unplanted, various seed pods, and a candle keeping the light in the darkness as we prepare a way.
Here's what I found. Lots of rose hips, Euphorbia wulfenii which looks green all winter, seed heads from grasses, a branch of Paulownia tomentosa seed pods and some Berberis 'Orange Rocket' (just because it's pretty) and a few Callicarpa branches.
Sunday is a busy day and my arrangements tend to get thrown together fairly quickly. Around the vase are crowded other things sitting around the house/garden containing the promise of new life.
A couple of amaryllis (hippeastrum) bulbs that just came home yesterday, a narcissus 'Angels in Water' from china, a bird's nest found in the garden years ago, some tulip bulbs from a bag on the back porch that are still unplanted, various seed pods, and a candle keeping the light in the darkness as we prepare a way.
We, as gardeners, prepare for the returning of the light by planting bulbs, ordering seeds, making plans for next year's garden projects, and by watching for signs of life and light in the deepining darkness of the season, promises of the spring and summer to come. We are pregnant with possibilities and expectant of greater joy to come.
Furrows, be glad though earth is bare,
One more seed is planted there:
Give up your strength the seed to nourish,
That in course the flower may flourish.
People look east and sing today:
Love, the rose, is on the way.
Birds, though you long have ceased to build,
Guard the nest that must be filled.
Even the hour when wings are frozen
God for fledging time has chosen.
People, look east and sing today:
Love, the bird, is on the way.
From "People Look East" by Eleanor Farjeon (1881 - 1965)
In A Vase on Monday is hosted by Cathy at Rambling in the Garden. Click over to her site to see her Monday Vase and those of other participating bloggers. Thanks, Cathy, for this fun floral party!