New Energies & Insights From My Gardens | Kaija Savinainen | Artist | The Ten Collective
My gardens beckon; I hear them call me, tempting me to come, just one quick peek, just one look. At first, it is only a whisper brought forward by soft, warming spring winds. Quickly it becomes much louder, emboldened, more demanding, the calling, the calling.
Reluctantly, knowingly, I wander closer, as if almost afraid of what may be revealed, of what is or is not there. Did my magnolia survive? I know what work awaits, the endless long, long hours of sweat, the aching body, the sore hands, day in and day out. Yes, days and weeks of it. I know this as I travel this well-worn path each spring into summer. It is my way to the inner creative self. My gardens are massive – thousands of plants, every single one planted and nurtured by my hands – all connected to my ultimate need to create life and yes, art.
My heart starts to soften, I wander closer and I look. I move a few sticks, a fallen branch makes way for spring blooms, wild and planted. I am hooked, I am needed. So begins the process to find my way back to my innermost private self. Find the fragile, the vulnerable, become in-tuned to what my hands, head are doing. I observe the natural world, to work against her is foolishness. The place is full of living beings, all kinds of creatures call this place home. For birds especially, the gardens are a respite after a long journey. I am careful not to upset the natural order. The gardens are not formal places of order.
I once worked as a gardener for a person who demanded ORDER. Flower space, flower space, next row and so on… like little soldiers marching in a row. One. Two Three. One. Two. Three. I can’t even draw a straight hard line let alone create a flower bed with such ridged order. I bit my tongue and did as asked. She paid, I planted. As the summer wore on, I imposed subtly my less regimented vision of a garden on her space. She would inspect my daily work, paying a rare compliment begrudgingly muttering under her breath something in German. On other occasions, she would quickly point out a stray dandelion growing unsupervised in amongst her lawn. How had I missed that she would ask? She would pick the dandelion, leave its head in the exact location of the plant.
That was her signal to me to go and pull that interloper out, immediately! Just once I brought her to my gardens, to show her a looser, more random instinctive way of gardening. Her expressions on her face were obvious. Her anxiety surfaced. “Oh no, too much…, no order, oh no I must leave now…”. I do enjoy formal gardens but I prefer my kind of chaos…where natural vegetation grows in companionship with some planted things. We parted ways when she asked me to weed a woodland path on her property. I said “NO, that is not right. Leave those things, they are not weeds, those are plants that other creatures depend on…” We need to listen to nature, to understand her purpose. We can not impose our will no matter what we believe.
The large gardens are my solitary and much-required transition from the “real” world job to my creative space. I shed the year; I leave that person behind. I crave the stillness of the place, the quiet, the deep scents and fragrances of blooms. To smell, feel the richness and promise of the soil, to feel the sun on my back, on my hands as I work the long hours transforming my space. I garden how I paint; intuitively, instinctively with past and present right in front of me. I work, I listen, I watch, I see…” oh, she does not like that, ooh I made a bad choice here, that did not work, a rethink is needed, what has nature put in its place?”
Move forward with care and wisdom. The process of working outdoors becomes a healing of spirit, a balancing of the inner self. The hard work begins to yield results; the gardens reward me with their presence, their beauty, with understanding. Who else buys herself a truckload of straw for a birthday gift that will be used as mulch? When the load of straw arrived, I was almost dancing with excitement, with glee, with anticipation of giving myself permission to leave the noise, humdrum and stress of daily living behind. I wanted, needed to go and feel the soil, to relearn her lessons she gives so freely.
I work with nature; she nourishes, she inspires, she imparts her wisdom, she whispers to the creative spirit within.