We had the good fortune of hosting a group of dedicated women writers here at Blooming Hill, yesterday. They were led by Lisa Colburn and Sue McCollum, both certified Amherst Writers who lead and facilitate, among other local to international writing programs, one called "Writing From The Heart." I had attended this series of writing sessions a couple of years ago and really enjoyed it. What was every bit as nice, was that this group decided to visit Blooming Hill for some floral inspiration and thirteen wonderful women came to explore the gardens here and use the lavender, flowers and herbs as prompts to open their hearts, spur their creativity and write beautiful poetry and prose. They came at 1:30 in the afternoon and sat as a group to share with each other their written observations, imaginings and memories. After serving them tea, I joined in the closing session where we were "prompted" to write a short piece entitled "She Wore Flowers In Her Hair."
Although she really was not aware of them and, you really can't see them, they are there, alright, as she wore flowers in hair. They came from her garden she tends day in and day out--getting down on her knees to till, weed, water and dig. Pulling a plant here and planting one there, she reached for the relentless weeds, spent leaves and broken twigs elbowing their way through the blooms and, as she reached into the tangle, her head touched every leaf and petal that she passed. Or, did they touch her? She hoped they loved her as much as she loved them and, if they don't, she prefers to think that they do, faithful as they are, returning year after year while calling this place home just as she does.
Even as this growing season draws slowly to it's inevitable close, the zinnias and dahlias remain steadfast while the roses and asters are valiant in their battle against powdery mildew and shifty snails. The geraniums will prevail until the first frost and the mums arrive to bolster every flower's courage. The lavender, oh, the lavender will also bloom until the frost, if only a little, as their season was before high summer arrived, but that is their calling. In the meantime, the sun will rise and fall and rise over and over and she will walk through the garden everyday, in good weather and bad, pulling and planting and picking and she will wear flowers in her hair and in her heart.