I used to go out into my yard in Hawaii, sit in my favorite chair, and hold hands with my ferns. They loved it (they told me so!) and I loved it. I miss that.
Ferns in my garden. Original art © Angela Treat Lyon 2024
Where I live now, I go outside and there’s no place to even put a chair, or sit with the sun, never mind any plants. Wah!
But that’s OK - I get to draw my garden! In my head (and thousands of file folders) I have scads of plants and flowers and bees and buttyflies and ladyishbugs and wind and rain and happy-nesses.
And I make designs for silk scarves that I can wear to help me remember how it felt.
And that other people can wear to help them feel connected to the earth, under the blue sky and milky moon.
Like this one:
This is the design in blues, repeated. © Lyon 2024
I often wonder what people do about the Emptiness when they are not artists. If I wasn’t an artist, after having lived within the steamy teeming with life garden I had in Hawaii, I’m thinking that I’d feel so bereft.
Well, that’s what I’m imagining anyway. Actually, I don’t know how people feel after leaving a place. How do you feel upon leaving a place you love? Do you feel empty inside? Do you miss the way your old place felt? Or is the new place enough to refill you?
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FERNY FERN FERN
© Angela Treat Lyon 2024