Plinth et al

The platform between art and horticulture. 

Lost in the fog

After a rainstorm early one evening, the light changed, and showed the meadows in a whole new way.


The wildflowers all weighed heavily with water,  each droplet catching the last rays of the sun. The birds were chirping, the light was incredible, and the soft colors of the meadow became  soothing. It was easy to be caught up just listening and observing, with admiration for how incredible meadows can be. After sitting there for what seemed like a long time, I realized it was about to get better.

The fog started to approach in the distance, slowly rolling closer until it began to first engulf and then surround me.

The soft blue haze was calming. It was changing plants from living things to groves of foreign silhouettes,

and colors that are normally washed out by the strong midday sun, turned to soft pastel shades of grays, purples, greens and blues, only highlighted by  diamond flecks of water.


Like a child, I was lost in a world of fantasy,

quiet except for the occasional bird, and the shrieking noises of a horse a few fields away.

A line of trees took on the form of a tribe of tall quiet giants.

Even my friend, seemed more like a creature than a fellow human being.

It kept getting thicker,


transporting me to what seemed like a peat bog in Scotland, luring me into its mysteries.

If you ever come across a meadow heavily weighed down by fog, let it lure you in....


What a gardener does is...

And the seasons went..

And the seasons went..