How to Have Beautiful Easy Winter Pots in Your Garden

 The identity I brought to my garden is not the one my garden wanted.  Creating what the garden desires is slow joyful work.  Somewhere along the way my garden brought into me, with a fullness of intent, my identity.

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Amusing to remember that earlier time, thinking I was the potter.

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Humbled at a skill taking me from being the potter, to being the clay.  Thankful for the journey, blessed by the lesson.

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Certainly I knew potted plants.  Everywhere to see.  Follow their methods with tweeks of intent and what's available.

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Decades of recreating those type pots.  No more.  A few years ago I discovered Deborah Silver's pots.  Deborah's heart & eye those of a florist.  Hilarious how obvious her art.  That's the magic.  Simple.  Deborah put florist and garden together, in her pots.  More, she does it in horrendous weather, bitter winters, strong winds.     

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Deborah's pots, below, copy how she creates them, and they're yours forevermore.  Each pot you create, your heart and hands, and what's available.

  

Pot plantings, above/below, are cut greenery, fake stems, real stems.  Hope pics/words have already expanded your horizons.  Well beyond my own. 

 

 "Sometimes it takes darkness & the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you."  David Whyte.

   

Deborah's pics are your visual curriculum, all above/below.  Adore visual curricula, from childhood.

  

Without words my best conversations are in the garden.  Life abounds where it is pastured.  My garden pastures my body, my soul.  I haven't the knowledge or wisdom from within to gain what my garden provides, nurturing & ripe.

 

 More fake and real greenery, above/below.

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"Art holds out the promise of inner wholeness."  Alain de Bottom.  Art is a tool.  Without art we live in the depths of unwisdom.  

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Oh my the horror of a garden labeled, mundane, or ubiquitous.  This is your garden to fill.  

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Full post from Deborah Silver, here, about putting together Winter Garden Pots.

  

"The quality of her dreaming, its interior abstraction, is exquisite.  Its wonder lies in how closed its shutters are to any mundane world."  Renee Gladman.

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Garden & Be Well,    XO Tara

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For your continued prayers I thank you.  Beloved has more liver cancer tumors.  Back to the hospital for full anesthesia, again again again, this year.  This time in December.  Aside from the macro drama, Beloved rises each day and goes to work.  In the micro we speak of it little.  Choosing our lives instead.  

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This time, alert siren heard differently.  Two short conversations, life without blinders.  We go to sleep, I await his steady breathing.  I go into the living room.  To cry.  To pray.  It passes, I go back to bed.