Anyone who spends time observing the seasons knows one universal truth, that patience is a language best learned fluently. In the natural world, there’s no use for our impatience. Changes happen when they need to, there’s a moment for each tick of the cycle and one instance dominoes eternally into the other.
In the man-made world we are too focussed on seeking ways to skip time. But in nature, the emotion we are constantly trying to cheat is nothing more than a waste. So, we must learn to let go and become a part of the process.
This wall hanging is the result of three years of steady, gentle and somewhat neglectful tending and imagining. Three springs of sowing, growing, planting.
Three summers making little excursions around the garden, picking handfuls of strawflowers, cornflowers, heuchera and yarrow, as well as foraging just four or five sprigs of purple heather from each woodland walk. Three autumns, waiting until the delicate quaking grass heads perform a shimmery dance on their stems, a sign they were ready for snipping. Three times cutting down the skeleton of the mighty honesty, a permanent resident of mine, and peeling away the grubby casings to reveal the pearly translucent seed heads inside. This is always a time consuming activity but one that pays with shiny gifts.
These years were dotted with tiny pocks of time in between real life, figuring out which flowers would fasten well to the thread, which shapes and forms would create a soothing pattern and how the garlands might sway in a warm breeze from an open window.
In the darkest months, the wall of cascading colours reminds me that spring and summer are coming. It’s just that good things take time.
