Garden Design: Lucinda Wharton, Permission to Go Big

“A flowerless room is a soulless room, to my way of thinking; but even one solitary little vase of a living flower may redeem it.”

– VitaSackville-West

At the curb, I must know who you are.  Your home/garden speaking, your language.  Garden Design is not about where to put a 'plant', instead, Garden Design is getting the language right.  More correctly, the language is opera, an intensification of reality.   
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Came across this garden, below, recently.  Immediately adored, understood.  A single photo.  Stop luxuriating in my words, go, now, to your garden/home, think, a single photo.  Do I know you, and understand?  Not necessary to 'adore', understand, yes.  Does your photo take me somewhere?  No?  Maybe you have been somewhere, but if you can't take it to show-and-tell, you've heard the language but don't understand it.



Plantings, above, beyond marvelous.  They frame the opera.



Felt strongly enough about the home/garden, top pic, to investigate further.  Discovered the owner of this home/garden.  Pure gold.  Large branches and stalks, above/below, are my favorite for inside.  Who is this person, liking them too? 



Then, better, below.  The branches dropping their gold. 




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Playing with arrangements in the same spot through the seasons, above/below.
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During college I spent breaks/summers at my grandmother's home, incredibly happy years.  Myriad layers of happy.  With no training/classes/mentoring, farm raised, grandma always had a gorgeous Garden.  Abundant flowers, from the Earth she knew to enrich.  A Garden Whisperer, in hindsight. 



In my bedroom, during those years, there was always a huge antique leaded cut glass vase on my dresser, backed by a large mirror, stuffed with grandma's flowers.  Nothing else on the dresser.  The flowers my joy.  Changing the flowers, I would go into the dining room, and stand in front of the sideboard with grandma's collection of antique crystal vases.  Gazing.  Knowing what was in the garden, and which vase would be best, next.
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These years were my late teens to age 22, college graduation, marriage, real life begins. 






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Not a one-trick-pony, above/below.  More traditional.








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At the front door, above, again.  Time, has passed, the opera performs.  Understanding from first glance, top pic, now, above, understanding is sublime.  Garden & interior a well written & performed opera.  More, in the sharing, joy is given. 
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Most surprising part of the opera, and it shouldn't be?  The author is a young woman.  The ages I was living at grandma's.  Lucinda Wharton, below.  Looking forward to following her career.  Her life embracing garden, home, art, talent, history, architecture, and more.  In addition she's already famous for her art works, here.  Adore a good opera.
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All pics, above, here.
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Garden & Be Well,    XO Tara
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Collateral to Lucinda's story is life.  What it gives, takes away, teaches.  Wasn't too deep into my 20's, a second college degree, paid for wasband's master's degree, working dreg jobs in the Jimmy Carter 21% interest economy, blah, blah.  Infertility.  No friends my age, they had babies.  Instead, friends, incredible women 50's-90's.  Their mentoring, love, fun, life success/failures.  Life gives us all the same teachers, excepting at different times, with different sources.  Pay attention, or not. 
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I had to veer from that girl choosing vases & cutting flowers.  Had to.  They weren't mine, after all, were they?  G*d bless the child who has his own.
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Bless the path given, and taken.  Also 21% interest rates, a better economy and I would have never turned into the garden center parking lot, with a sign, Help Wanted.  At that point, working for a bank, soul crushing.  Knew I had to leave the bank when imagining, in great detail, my head exploding, brains dripping down the frosted glass of my bosses office door.  Yep, time to go. 
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Wish for a different life path?  No. 
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Looking forward to Miss Lucinda and all her doings.  How she nurtures her talent, what comes her way, and makes her path even better opera.  Zero sarcasm there, a lot of war, death and strife in opera too.  Anyway.  Move along.  Happy to be Lucinda's cheerleader.  Curious about her parents, how they raised this old soul child.