Solstice 2013 Wreck Beach Mandala

Little Helpers

 'Mandala' is a Sanskrit word which means 'circle.' A circle can be defined as an 'integrated structure organized around a unifying centre.' (That's from my book, The Mandala Book: Patterns of the Universe,  by Lori Bailey Cunningham.)  Both mandalas and circles are found in sacred art all around the world, and throughout nature.

This beach mandala happened this
evening on Wreck Beach, famous for naked people and sheer bliss.

When I make beach mandalas, I follow a few simple rules:

I must only use materials found onsite.

Um, I think that's the only rule.

Oh ya: and anyone who wants to help is welcome.

This time, I placed the most delicate
materials at the centre of the mandala and worked outward with increasingly sturdy bits. The rugged seaworthy bush in the background (must look that up) is slightly prickly and pungent, and part of the perimeter.

By the time the wild roses, feathers and beach grasses were in place, I had a troop of little helpers scouring the dunes for bark and driftwood. Here they are, pushing the final berm of sand into place. I also had a lovely gentleman of the discreetly naked variety drift by with a rose, a bit of driftwood.

So fun.
Try making one, somewhere. Doesn't have to be on a beach. I'd love it if mandalas starting appearing everywhere.

Happy Solstice.

Sun and Rain...

 A few pics from the days before Summer Solstice...



A President Kennedy (methinks) purple hybrid tea rose at Sue & Hugh's... with Oriental poppies and an equally purple variety of Sidalcea behind...












'Lollipop' lilies appearing in a burst of stars through a rain-weighted billow of Centranthus ruber ... in my own garden...

...and a Papaver somniferum, originally from Bowen Island, that reseeded  in my herb  circle...saving itself for a sunnier day. Everybody's grandma grew these opium poppies for poppyseed cake and the full-skirted blooms in the old-timey days. I love how everything has crept around this year, emerging in natural rearrangements around the front garden.

Journeyperson Landscape Horticulturist = Journeywoman Gardener

I have a new credential floating beside my garden self as of March 2013. I passed the national Red Seal Trade exam for Landscape Horticulture, making me a certified Journeyperson. What a mouthful. I in fact prefer to call myself a Journeywoman Gardener, which sounds super.

To the right is a fuzzy pic of the Level 4 Apprenticeship class at Kwantlen Polytechnic out in Langley. I am the fuzzy person in the orange vest on the far left.

All of this came together rather suddenly in the fall of 2012. I decided I wanted a horticultural update, looked around, and discovered I could 'ladder' into the Kwantlen Landscape Horticulture Apprenticeship program, thanks to my previous schooling and experience.

Usually, apprentices work for a mentor and attend 6 weeks of schooling in the winter over 4 years. Because I was already certified through Capilano College, Kwantlen gave me credit for the first two levels of the apprenticeship. By luck, levels 3 and 4 were being offered back-to-back in January through March. Perfect--I could get it all done in one swoop!

Then I was able to contact all my old employers and mentors to sign off on my work experience with them, and together with a signed affidavit stating my self-employed hours, I fulfilled more than the required work experience hours (equivalent to 4 years full-time). It was also a pleasure reconnecting with my original employers and sharing perspective and  philosophies about the industry.

So it wasn't until mid-December that I was set to go: study for 3 months (which my not-so-inner-plant-nerd was particularly excited about) through my off-season, in preparation for the Red Seal exam at the end of Level 4.

In a final cosmic push, my longtime clients Jim & Wren spontaneously offered to lend me their 1992 Toyota Corolla to carry me the 50 km to Langley on the #1 Highway every day!  It's hard to describe how grateful I was and am for this generous gesture. Just grateful. Carrying it forward.

And so I have emerged from the experience, officially 'Sealed.' Ork ork.

Shared-House & Garden Fast-Forward

I'm back. Really.

I've missed you, Blog, and mystery blog-friends, and not-so-mysterious blog-friends.

A lot has happened in this interlude from blogging, which probably explains the interlude from blogging.

I think I've had a crash-course in humanity, as I forge through the second year of setting up camp and garden in Osborne House.

 I think I'm a slightly more ragged, simultaneously toughened and tenderized version of myself. I like me better.

When I 'inherited' the lease here, I had to work double-time to create a space I could...wanted... and loved to live in.  I wanted this place to be awesome so badly it became a bit of a mantra through the tough times, when I had to make hard decisions. I still say awesome way too much.

The first year was really fun...but waaay more of a roller coaster than than this second year. I've learned a few things. My current housemates are a rock-climbing punk, a gypsy pie-maker, and literate bon-vivant--all of whom have been here for more than 9 months. (The literate bon-vivant has been here almost as long as I have.)

Shared living is awesome. Never boring.

And the garden.
I adore the garden.
I am shamelessly in love with the garden.

This garden brought me back from Ghana--where I'd spent years investing love and hope and sheer energy into a house and a garden and a family who are still there. This garden brought my energy back here. Thanks, garden!

All of these pictures are from 2012--the year gone by in blog-less-ness.

I divided bits from clients' gardens.
I planted from seed,  bought and shared.
I rescued and revived what was here.
I bought myself a rose, and herbs for the herb garden.

Tea in the garden before work, every morning.
Bare feet out the door.