Why? Why do we take on big, difficult, unnecessary projects? Why would we decide to take up quilting or train for a marathon or plant an enormous flower garden too big for a single family?
After walking through the grounds of Powell Woods Garden, I couldn’t help but wonder who created this place? And why?
This summer my sister has been working through a list of private gardens that are open to the public. This past Saturday, my daughter and I joined her on a visit to Powell Woods Garden in Federal Way. It’s a big, beautiful garden that’s just off the road, and yet, like many residential areas in Western Washington, surrounded by an evergreen forest.
With her straw hat and long, ruffled skirt, this woman added a bit of romance to the garden.
I think this is a hydrangea serrata. I like the fact that it has pink, blue, and lavender all in the same flower.
Another hydrangea. Don’t you love these intense shades of purple and red-violet! And all those shades and shapes of green living around it.
Textures to touch and not touch.
Lilies all in a row
The serenity of the garden was interrupted now and then by the sound of planes heading for Seatac Airport.
Still, the question: How did this garden come to be? And why? Did someone simply get a bee in her bonnet (as the old saying goes) and decide, “I’m going to plant a garden so big and beautiful that it will become a tourist attraction.” Or was it the serendipitous outcome of something that was supposed to be a small project and got out of hand?
Before we left the garden, I found a pamphlet that gave a small hint. When the Powells bought the property in 1991, it was covered with junk. The soil was so bad that even weeds refused to grow there. It took two years for them to clean up the junk and bring in fertile soil for the garden. Why they did it, I cannot say, but now we can enjoy the glorious result.
No one knows why any of us take on new, often unnecessary projects. But isn’t it fun!
Have you taken on a new project recently or continued working on an old one?
The garden is lovely and inviting. If I took on such a large longterm project as this one I’d hope my garden to be wonderful, too. Laughed at your line: “Textures to touch and not touch.” Seems like life advice.
I suspect these people were serious about gardens from the start. And then, the more work they put into it, the more they loved it and wanted it to turn out great.
It certainly looks lovely, whatever the reasons.
Thank you, Johanna. Yes, it was a lovely garden.
I love it when people decide to clean up and revitalize the land. We should all leave the places we go and the people we know better than we found them.
“Love your neighbor” includes cleaning up after yourself and, as you say, contributing something positive in your relationships with others.
Perhaps they had the means to have help. I’ve always wanted a gardener much more than a housecleaner.
I wish I knew more about the family and their story. In fact, I didn’t finish reading the pamphlet, and then, I left it at my daughter’s house.
They do have some help now in keeping the garden up. They have a box for a $10 contribution as we enter.
Beautiful garden, Nicki!
As to your inquiry, the first thought that popped to mind was: Social Media (and its forerunners). People do a lot of what they do so that they can boast, brag, and discuss on social media (or at cocktail parties) to bolster up their fragile egos and/or have a “claim to fame.”
Cynical? Perhaps. But if people were told they could not tell anyone about what they were doing, not even a whisper or an allusion, I bet a lot of planned projects would fall by the wayside.
Before I start a project, I always ask myself if I am doing it as a way to feed my ego . . . or my spirit.
If what I’m looking for is accolades, applause, approval, acknowledgement, acclamations, etc., from others . . . that’s ego.
If, instead, I’m looking forward to the quiet satisfaction of feeling that my time has been “well spent” . . . that’s spirit.
Of course, the lines blur. Example: Decluttering. If I declutter my drawers and closets, I may enjoy the quiet satisfaction of feeling that my time has been well spent. If I donate my clutter to a local non-profit, ditto.
But what if I document the journey with photos and a step-by-step guide that I share on social media. At that point, I might be sharing what I learned to HELP OTHERS with no interest in applause or accolades. Or . . . my ego might be grasping for Hits or Likes or Comments or other Positive Feedback.
As Phoebe on Friends once tried to prove, “there are no selfless acts . . .”
BTW: If you enjoyed this comment, please no applause. Just throw money! 😀
Lol.
Another way to look at it is Maslow’s hierarchy of needs: “A Theory of Human Motivation.” Hopefully we will often choose projects that fill needs higher on the pyramid, i.e. artistic or self-actualization needs rather than the social need for esteem. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with having social needs. But I agree that social media has a huge influence on our motivation these days.
Good points all, Nicki. The higher the needs in his hierarchy, the more spiritual the motivation seems to become.
Ego being grounded on earth while spirit can soar . . .
How wonderful to be able to have such a beautiful garden for the public to enjoy.
I agree. Our Edmonds’ street corners are not a garden, but aren’t they wonderful this time of year!
What lovely photos, Nicki! And great questions. I love that some individuals have a vision so big that it leaves a legacy for others.
I’m working on two novels that are sequels to one I wrote years ago but have not yet placed. In some ways I’m working on all three, because when I add characters or add to the lore, sometimes I have to go back and adjust the first book. 😊
That’s exactly the way to put it: “a vision so big that it leaves a legacy for others.”
So, what was your vision when you started? Have you added to it as the years passed.
I’m thinking of one of my projects that started small. I was in Baguio in the Philippines. I sat on a friend’s porch and sketched the fantastic view: hills, rice terraces, small distant houses, mountains, clouds, and the hibiscus flowers in the yard. All done. Right? But then, I decided to turn it into batik, four panels on silk. Another idea. Would the Don Bosco brother who taught woodworking have his boys make a four-paneled-stand-up screen for me? He did, and now I have the screen in my living room.