Garden as Art

Eight years ago, my sisters, mother, and I embarked on a journey. It was a dream finally coming to fruition for my sister, Shannon, and myself. After years of hoping and planning, we opened up shop. Poet's Garden was born.

We built (or, I should say, the husbands, built) two little cottages on the family property where our childhood vegetable garden previously took up residence. Mom, Shannon, and I spent a week at the Seattle Gift Show picking out treasures to fill the shop. We painted, planted, and created.

Poet's Garden opened in June when the roses were in full bloom. Everything looked magical. We served tea and delicious treats. It was a success! The years rolled along. I had my first son and brought him with me to the shop a few days a week. Shannon started working even harder. We were featured in Victoria magazine. (Absolutely, unimaginably, stupendously amazing for us!) I had my second son. Gone were the days when I could work at the shop. I helped from home as much as I could. (Which wasn't much.) Shannon worked harder (if that was possible). My third son was born last year, and Shannon gave up on me.

My little sister was born to own her own shop. She started her own dried flower business at the age of 11. Poet's Garden is her baby. The gardens have prospered under her care. The roses are currently in full bloom. I took advantage of an overcast day to capture the sights on film. These are my favorites. (More pictures can be found at Poet's Garden Girl.)

Nothing is more completely the child of Art than a garden.
Sir Walter Scott

Gardening is the art that uses flowers and plants as paint,
and the soil and sky as canvas.
Elizabeth Murray

(I love this picture because the hill way in the background is the backdrop to our new home.)

I need not print a line, nor conjure with the painter's tools to prove myself an artist . . . Whilst in other spheres of labor the greater part of our life's toil and moil will of a surety end, as the wise man predicted, in vanity and vexation of spirit, here is instant physical refreshment in the work the garden entails, and, in the end, our labor will be crowned with flowers.
---John D. Sedding