Always it’s Spring)and everyone’s in love and flowers pick themselves.
– e.e. cummings, American poet, painter, essayist and playwright

The side yard abounds with tulips.

It seemed like a few weeks ago that we were celebrating the New Year, and now a quarter of 2014 is almost over and spring has arrived. I have noticed over the last decade how the days, weeks, months, and seasons are flying. The best we can do with time like the wind is to enjoy our days, replenish ourselves in moments of peace and clarity, immerse ourselves in moments of surprise and delight, and be open to moments in which reminders of the past bring gratitude to our present.

In my latest spring cleaning mode, I was decluttering our jammed file cabinets and pulled out a fat hanging folder full of cards and letters and mementos I’ve saved through the years. I came across a letter from my former landlord, Mischa Schwartzman, who had since retired from managing apartments and then passed away in 2003, which greatly saddened me. He was a retired teacher when he was my landlord in the Marina district of San Francisco in the early 1990s. His mother had taken him from his homeland of Russia when he was a baby during political upheaval. He had aspirations of being a writer, recording and bringing to life his childhood and his larger-than-life mother, and in his 80s he began to write, which was such inspiration to me.

The inner beauty of a tulip.

He was the one who insisted I had to fight my fear and get to my writing. He was the one who told me to put a jar on my desk next to my computer. When I sat down to write, I was to open the jar, put my fear in it, close the jar, and then I could write freely. Mischa spoke his mind and lived and loved as large as his heart. His voice was powerful and honest. He was a loving father and a loyal friend. He was vibrant and youthful and wise – what I hope to be when I am an octogenarian. He took up photography after I moved out and he moved to Corte Madera, north of San Francisco, and he won numerous awards at shows for his stunning color photography. (My photos are mere shadows of his photographs.)

Luminous lilac-colored tulips.

We remained close as I moved again, on from my life in San Francisco and settled in the East Bay with David. Mischa came to our wedding in Napa. We visited one another when we could. One spring, he came to our home for brunch and took photographs of our tulips. His letter of June 10th, 1999, was a gift then, and a gift reopened and savored again last night:

Behold the tulip!

Dear Patty and David,
At long last. Sorry it took so long. Interruptions and distractions galore. But I persevered, and here is my favorite of all the images I made in your backyard.

Capturing the ‘essence of tulipness’ in black and white, Mischa’s print hangs in our kitchen today.

I am again reminded, and am astonished at the impact black-and-white photography expresses. It’s powerful and dramatic. For years, I was enamored with color – gee. But your tulips, gorgeous as they are in their own colors, make a statement even more powerful in black and white. I realize that now I am looking at the essence of tulipness without the distraction of color: this is what a tulip is. No wonder it’s such a favorite worldwide.

Anyway, dear hearts, I had a most satisfying morning, breaking bread with you, and wandering the corners of your backyard and firing away. Thanks for the so many kindnesses you have shown me and accepting me as a friend. Consider both of you hugged and then, hugged again. Enjoy the enclosed print.

With love and affection,
Mischa

(P.S. from me to Mischa: We miss you a bunch.)

Fit for a garden bursting with color: Burgundy polka dots, black and cream plaid, Swiss dot black stockings, and shiny black leather ruffled booties and handbag.

Featuring beautiful earrings and double-strand bracelet of smoky quartz and African beads by Anja Hakoshima (El Cerrito, CA), my Lunafest co-committee member, architecturally inspired necklace (Wyler’s, Portland, ME), fan ring (Eskell, Chicago), and Sundance stack of rings.

Close-up of ensemble mixing shapes in a playful way.

Close-up of silver accessories against dots and plaids.

My garden is my most beautiful masterpiece.
– Claude Monet, founder of French impressionist painting

We are on the edge of autumn, although summer is trying to hang on. My last bouquet was a few weeks ago, but I have memories of the last gasp of my dahlias. So as a way to say goodbye to summer, I present my last three bouquets. Enjoy!

A late-August bouquet.

My second to the last summer bouquet for the winning bidder of my Portola Middle School auction item.

The very last summer bouquet of early September for the auction winner.

A summer outfit with a print that captures shimmering water.

Earrings from Waterlily (Portland, ME), Lava 9 ring (Berkeley, CA), and Sundance cuff.

Close-up of the splashy print.

Summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
– William Shakespeare, English poet and playwright

Our Indian summer arrived in late August and after two-plus weeks of hot weather is preparing to depart. How I wish it had come in July and stayed through August! My dahlia plants would still be blooming. Instead, I made my last bouquet of the season last week. My dahlias either have shriveled brown buds or no buds at all. The powdery white mildew has turned to dry, browning leaves.

A summer birthday bouquet for my old college roommate Susan.

While it’s September, autumn doesn’t begin until September 22nd. So technically it’s still summer and I have a few more bouquets to share. These bouquets were made with late-August blooms. If you compare these to ones from June, July, and early August, you’ll see how much smaller the blooms are. With fewer blooms, the bouquets themselves have shrunk. That said, they are still Nature’s gifts to behold and enjoy.

A petite bouquet of late-August flowers for my friend Soizic.

This is volume 6 and there will be one last edition before I hang up my clippers. Even before the dahlia stalks and leaves completely turn dry and brown like a field of season-ending corn stalks, I am thinking of where to move some of the tubers in other parts of the yard to give them more space and more sun and less wind.

One of the last bouquets for the winning bidder of my Portola Middle School auction donation.

A gardener never sleeps, never stops thinking about seeds and bulbs and tubers, soil amendment and compost and fertilizer, ladybugs and hummingbirds–even when the season begrudgingly makes way for the next season.

A silk sheath as colorful as my summer garden.

I dream of a time when I have so many varieties of dahlias and other flowers that I can create bouquets that aren’t a mash-up of everything in the garden. Next season, next summer.

Carmela Rose necklace, Anthropologie ring and bangles, and Abacus earrings (Portland, ME).

Harmonious accessories for a colorful silk sheath.

In joy or sadness flowers are our constant friends.
– Kakuzo Okahura, Japanese scholar, from The Book of Tea

Today was my last day of delivering my weekly summer bouquet to Nerissa, a fourth-grader mom who was the winning bidder of my flowers from my son’s middle school auction. Lest you think my garden is still abloom, these bouquets are from earlier in August when I could still eek out a few bouquets during the week.

Mid-August blooms still look great for this auction bouquet.

This is the fourth year I have donated flowers from my garden for either our elementary school or middle school. They help to raise funds for the local schools and bring joy to the recipients. I, too, get a feel-good-deep-down-inside sensation every time I leave the bouquet on the porch. If you have a flower garden, think about doing such a deed for your local school or other worthy organization before the spring flowers sprout.

Blooms hardly able to contain themselves, nearly exploding out of the vase.

Taking care of dahlias in the fall into the winter
As we turn the corner on September, I know to leave the dahlias alone to completely dry out their stalks and leaves for the next two months. Don’t cut them down to the ground when they no longer flower; they need the rest of the plant to feed the tubers. That’s why I don’t like to look at the garden in the fall. It’s too sad to see everything turn brown and wither.

A mid-August bouquet for the auction. Still going strong….

Living in California, I don’t dig up the tubers. But this winter I’m going to put down a plastic covering to protect them from the rain. I covered my chocolate cosmos last winter, and not only did they survive but they rewarded me with an abundance of tall, healthy blooms.

A silk and velveteen shift full of deep, vibrant flowers.

Next spring, while the tulips are up and the tubers are getting ready to sprout, I’ll lightly fertilize, take care to weed by hand, and rid of the pinchers and cucumber beetles that plagued them this year before they can multiply and do damage. And I’ll be environmentally sound in my approach, using my fingers.

Ayala Bar necklace (Jewish Contemporary Museum, San Francisco), Carmela Rose earrings, Sundance stone ring, Tiffany basket weave ring, Hill Tribe silver cuff.

And I’ll dream about when they come up again in late spring, and like miracles in a blink they become bushy, then tall and bushy, bearing beautiful blooms – for me to share, for me to give away, Nature’s gifts.

Add silver pointy pumps and vintage Whiting & Davis silver mesh evening bag to your bouquet of flowers.