symphony of blooms

Richard wrote: "I like to think of the emergence of blooms as notes in a

symphony ..."

I saw a video documentary ("Dream Window: Reflections On A Japanese
Garden") on the influences of Japanese garden aesthetics on other
Japanese culture. One of the artists interviewed was a symphony composer

who drew much musical inspiration from gardens, particularly the ancient

temple gardens of Kyoto. He believed that gardens and works of music
are, in part, constructions of time. Gardens and symphonies, he said,
work most effectively as art when many different elements of time are
creatively layered. For example, rocks or moss, which do not change much

(in a human lifetime), are like the long, sustained notes in a symphony.

There is a stability there which other artistic elements can contrast
with. Trees, which change seasonally, are like musical motifs that
metamorphose slowly through many musical measures. Flowers, snowfall,
autumn leaf fall or other short-lived visual elements in the garden, are

like brief, exciting musical passages that come and go. All of these
elements working together provide a rich aesthetic experience. Of
course, Zen rock gardens and other kinds of gardens whose elements do
not change much, provide another kind of aesthetic/meditative
experience, but you get the idea.

One of the biggest challenges most gardeners, garden designers, etc.
face is controlling when things bloom. We want that deep blue Dutch iris

to come on precisely when the bright yellow rudbeckias next to it bloom,

right? Can't control everything, though, and serendipity is satisfying,
too. I guess, ultimately, a garden — wild or otherwise — is really more
of an improvisation or variations on a theme.

Paul Harrar
Nevada City, California
Sunset Zone 7
2,700 ft.
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