It started with the gift of a book. All about stone circels, druid mysticism and megalithic monuments, the tome was entertaining to flip through. Plenty of pictures, and just the right mix of history, myth, and mystery to captivate us somewhere between interest and fascination. Then Ryan made the point: we DO, after all, live in the Granite State. Imagine a stone circle of our own? A massive stone lintel over the path to the property? A megalithic construction upon the hillside, a monument uniting art, beauty, and natural features? Well, yes, imagine that.
It is a tongue-in-cheek sort of conversation, one of daydreams and chuckles, and preposterous plans. It is tinged with awe and curiosity, a hint of daring, and a penchant for the extra-ordinary. It is a conversation embued with a love of place - our place, and a passion for the gifts of the land. While we share a laugh about granite boulders atop the hill, we segue quite naturally into a discussion of which trees to fell to bring more sunlight to the blueberries, and where it is most urgent to clear away brush come spring, and which picturesque balsam must be preserved for its stately appearance.
Our conversation wanders to the fruit trees we'll plant this spring, and where best to root them. We talk of the garden, and extrapolate where its boundaries might reach in a few years time. We surmise a time when it's flowers and peaches we'll look upon from the southern window, and when the stump sprouts and wild raspberries will no longer be encroaching with such vigor. Someday we'll use a scythe to trim the "field," not just clippers and a chainsaw to push back the persistent colonizers of the Northern Forest.
From megaliths to flower gardens, our dreams - and jokes - are plans that shape our place within the landscape. Gently, personably, gradually, we are establishing our own roots above ground as much as below. Thinking of the massive effort behind stone monoliths and monuments, it is easy to sense the evocative nature of such ancient construction. The (often) astronomical precision mixed with the implications of grand effort, coupled with our incomplete history of the era, creates a sense of wonder.
And perhaps, on a smaller scale, a landscape in the midst of the woods can do just that. Nothing grand, nothing outrageous. And yet the effort and the heart to grow a garden, to culture a life, to paint a human beauty across a wild and natural landscape has the power to suggest art, emotion, and passion. And so, in our small and humble way, we are creating our own plot of joy, of love, and of beauty. It is the art of dreams writ across the landscape.
And we just may stack a few stones to enhance the effect.
If you are interested in ecological garden design and maintaince, or simply need some weeds pulled from your garden or landscaped housefront, please contact Bethann Weick via firstname.lastname@example.org.
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