Overnight...almost.

The last time I visited the blogosphere, I had just returned from a mini-retreat to the beach.  This time, the retreat was practically in my backyard.  A little over a week ago, I hiked through the gardens, looking for signs of spring - a bud here or there, or a tender shoot of a brave tulip or paperwhite testing the possibility of coming out of hiding.  The tree in the photo above was full of buds, but they still seemed fairly tight and fearful.  I took pictures of a few little perks of green to share with my preschool story-time charges for the week ahead, and thought we might still have a bit of a wait for the glories of spring.  Then on Tuesday, one of the staff on site sent pictures of the very same trees in full bloom.  Practically overnight,  everything had awakened in an absolute explosion of pink.

That means that today, on my weekend time with no duties to distract me, I will return to the gardens with my camera, as I always do in the spring, and record the exuberance of the tulip magnolias, and their rain of petals down to the gravel pathways of those treasured 9 acres.  And I will say to myself, "This is what my hard work is about," and I will be ready to take on the challenges of the new year.

The bayou is low...

I guess it might not be the most awe-inspiring sight to some - this picture of a muddy Texas coastal bayou in a still and clear moment.  As I have mentioned before, Buffalo Bayou has a somewhat regulated waterflow, thanks to the Army Corp of Engineers' dam work in the western part of Harris County.  That network of dams has saved the city from devastating floods more than once.  I suspect that the gates of the dam are doing their work today, as it seemed to have rained all night long. Everything outside of my window has a wonderfully fresh-washed look to it.
But back to the picture...I love the bayou at its lowest.  All the sandbars appear, and if you watch long enough, little bits of life will appear.  The "slow-moving" part of the definition of "bayou" becomes reality, and the sun can sprinkle glitter on the water's clear surface.

Today, despite the fact that I'm actually feeling better for the first time in 3 days (plus the three weeks before that, and the now 3 antibiotics and miscellaneous other marvels of medical science) there have been some low times recently.  And, oddly enough, during the low times, sometimes things muddied by being our overwhelmed or over-busy or over-stressed - those become clear, we can then see to the bottom and clarify where the snags and troublesome shoals are.  Then decisions become easier, or at least the steps toward them do, and we can be ready to move forward or "flow" again.  It's good to know that.

The freckles go on top...

It's about that time in the gardens - the time when all of the gardening staff and curator gear up for the blooming season.  There's so much manicuring to be done before the first of March, even though the heavy blooming often starts before that.  I need to be sure to make a lunch time visit this week so that I can watch the progression.

The first indication that the heavy gardening work has begun is that there are more frequent petty cash requests for gas money to run the mowers and blowers.  A great deal is done by hand, but there are huge expanses of lawn to be trimmed, and since those cash requests come across my desk, red garden flags go up in my brain.  Charge the cameras for the yearly photoshoot!

The walls of my cubicle are made of a material that allows one to pin up important reminders, and one whole wall is covered with 8x10 photos of the gardens at various times of year. Spring, fall, summer, and infrequent snow - each has its spot.  One day our gardens curator came for petty cash. He kept staring at this photo, which was posted horizontally.  Then he turned to me and said,"You know, you have that up wrong." I was thinking,"Does it really make a difference?  It's beautiful  in any case."  He said,"The freckles always go on the top."  And indeed, the picture does not seem right until the freckles are on the top.  That's where the balance is. There are all kinds of beauty, and balance is part of it.

Paperwhites...

I didn't expect it. I drove around the bend on the lane that leads to Bayou Bend, and there they were. That part of the gardens is shaded, but the ground is primarily forest floor - in other words, not populated by shrubs. In the spring, all of the "bulb" flowers start sending up their straight green shoots, and soon after - Voila! We have clusters of paperwhites, or daffodils, or whatever surprise ensues.

This year, they surprised me. I think they may be early. The camellias are different in that there are so many varieties that they start blooming in December, and fade in and out until the azaleas take over. But somehow, I didn't expect the paperwhites to be out at the beginning of January.

Who knows? Climate is such a strange thing, and ever-changing. As we are, correct? Four years ago, I had no idea what a paperwhite was, much less when it would bloom, or where. I had no idea of when camellias would bloom.

Watching the cycle of life in the gardens is a good thing. It's never exactly the same, but there are patterns and a certain flow to it all. Then, if you throw in a hurricane, or flood, or drought, or an enormous tent that stays up way too long and kills the grass beneath it - well, that's just the recipe for excitement that may be welcomed, but usually is not.

Our lives are the same. I know it appears that some people seem to never have "bumps" in the roads of their lives - that they are continually blessed with not having tragedies or setbacks or obstacles thrown in front of them. It also appears that some have way more than their "share". I can't really be sure of where reality is - probably as Forrest Gump said that it's "somewhere in between." Maybe part destiny, maybe part floating along on the wind.

All I know for sure is that the paperwhites are out in the gardens, and that is a sign of life and continued growth and the hope that comes with both.

The year has just flown by...

This time last year, we were celebrating the opening of our new education andvisitors' center, with dignitaries galore, and crowds and festivities and displays and craftsmen, and so on. A culmination of years of work, 3 of which I had been a part. It really does seem like a great deal has transpired since. Well, doesn't just seem - actually has.
This table was part of the display, a representation of what we do with our Yuletide installation, which usually involves "dressing" a table in a "period" fashion with appropriate ceramics, silver, crystal, and of course, faux food from our extensive collection. Even the chairs around the table are antique - hence the ribbons and little signs reminding the crowds that they are for looking at and not sitting on. And all expertly created by some of our most experienced Yuletide curators, volunteer docents.
Part of the job that has fallen to me in the past year is the care and tending of our Teaching and Yuletide collections. This is a potentially huge project, due in part to the fact that we are talking about close to 2,500 objects to catalog, unpack, re-pack, inventory, keep glued together, etc.
Since then, we have also added a children's library of approximately 100 books - all of which seem to have become my responsibility. So let's see - my hats now include, besides chief bottle-washer to a director, and two 2 managers, being the calendar/attendance guru, the room set up guru, a curator, a registrar, a conservationist, a preparator, a librarian, an office manager, and an errand runner. That comes close to covering all of it. Oh. and there are those extra-curricular events where I go to represent us on a weekend, or weekday evening. Detail floods through my veins with astounding frequency.
I think one thing that has always been true of my life has been that I appreciate variety. I would get extremely stir crazy without a wide spectrum of activities, and without being able to learn something new. I guess I'm in the right place.

A peaceful corner...

Tucked away in the gardens at Bayou Bend is a lovely waterfall that cascades down to a lower level of one of the landscaped gullies on the property. The story is that a larger fountain just above it developed a leak at some point. Rather than tear everything apart to repair the leak, they just incorporated it into another water feature and recycled the water somehow. The result was this delightful cascading trickle down to a pool flanked by two Pan-type statues. If the bench nearby were more shaded, I could sit there and listen to the water all day.

I decided that, though recently, I had allowed a few of my posts to leak some negativity, and for me, that was a good thing to do in safe quarters, it was time to move on from things that are bitter pills to swallow and about which I can do nothing. It was time move forward. I can choose not only to recognise the evil of those things, but also to take the path away from them. I can imagine being a little vulnerable right now because so much is changing, but I can also hang onto the beauty in my life - and there is a great deal of that!

Geometry...

On my right is my good friend, the sycamore tree. I was first introduced to the sycamore by our gardens curator at Bayou Bend. On the historic property, there is an enormous specimen of this fascinating tree that invariably catches visitors' eyes. It looks like two trees, actually, joined just above the base, and it soars into the sky for several stories. Most of the bark shines almost stark white - the eye-catching characteristic, and at certain times of the year, the outer layer turns dark and sloughs off in long sheets that curl into brittle rolls on the ground.

The tree in the picture is actually another visible along the walk from our visitors' center down to the bridge over the bayou. Though the weather has been somewhat unbearably in the high 90s with heat indexes in the 100s, that walk is just a perfect one for thawing out from the frigid air-conditioning of the offices, with the best part being the chance to open one's eyes - to stretch one's vision and imagination over the lunch break before returning to the business part of working for a museum.

So, why geometry? Well, does the angle of this branch not bring to mind some sort of geometric word problem from your past? Some impossible scenario created by an annoying textbook-writer trying to show us how these things might have practical application some day? A 90- degree angle in a tree for what appears to be no really good reason?

This is another fascinating aspect of sycamores. Their branches do that sometimes. Unpredictable things for no good reason. Well, maybe they had a reason, but they aren't telling. Something about that just really appeals to me. It makes me laugh.

Library time...

The 2nd floor library at the Bayou Bend Kilroy Center has 2 glass walls that look out over the treetops on one side, and over the downward sloping hillside on the other. Floor to ceiling windows let in an abundance of light. On Fridays, this is my home for an hour as I give the library assistant a break for lunch. It would be enough just to enjoy the quiet and the view for an hour, but then there are also all kinds of books and magazine/catalogs to browse through - more than one could ever hope to absorb about textiles, silver, pewter, American antiques, jeweelry, gardening, paintings, American and Texas history, ceramics, lamps, rugs/carpets, furniture design, architecture, and on and on. It is a delightful place!

Yes, some of this information in these printed books could be obtained online, but for me, there is just something glorious about holding a book, turning the pages, feeling the paper, smelling the book "smell", flipping through it in its full-sized glory. It's not just the learning and reading - it's the tactile, tangible experience.

What will become of our libraries? Will computer searches ever be able to replace the experience of walking through the "stacks" and pulling out something simply for curiosity's sake - something that you might never have imagined "Googling", but that caught your eye nonetheless? And what will become of the magical librarian who could help a growing child develop a love for reading magical stories? What of the quiet common spaces for curious folks to sit and take on the world not "squirreled" away from the rest of the curious folk at large?

http://www.mfah.org/research/bayou-bend-library/

Magnolias and mothers...

I kept thinking I had a better photo of a magnolia blossom in full platter-sized regalia, and somewhere amongst the myriad of pictures I've taken at Bayou Bend, it seems to have hidden itself.

We are two days away from Mothers' Day - one of those Hallmark holidays meant to sell cards, flowers, chocolates, and brunches. However, being a mother myself, I have to say I do appreciate it. The celebration doesn't have to be a huge thing. Being together with your own mom, or as a mom, or celebrated by those to whom you have been like a mother - these are all simple pleasures.

So today, I send you a picture of what is blooming in the gardens these days. The blossom of a tree, no less. Interestingly enough, when I researched what the magnolia is said to symbolize, these were the words that were used:

Splendid beauty and dignity. Perseverance. Nobility. Sweetness. With love for nature.

Hmmm. Actually sounds like qualities of many of the mothers I know. What a coincidence, right? Happy Mothers' Day!

Yuletide arrives...

Three days later, and exhausted to the bone, we welcome you to Yuletide time at Bayou Bend. Yes, it is approximately six months in the making, actual "installing", and weeks in the showing to hundreds of usually delighted guests. Who would guess that it is such a production, even in a year when the materials and stoies told are a repeat from last year. (And that is really meant as a statement, not a question.)

Let the season begin! I went out on a limb with my church choir, suggesting they come because it is a delightful way to escape the madding crowds of the holidays. I hope that will still be true, even as museum "visibility" increases. There may not be much about waiting in a line or finding a parking place that is different from going to the mall, but I think we still try to find ways to keep it from being too unpleasant - there are cider and cookies, and hugely funny puppets. There are nostalgic trips to be taken in some of the rooms where toys from Christmases past are scattered on the floor.

There is music in an elevated clear tent that lets in the moon and starlight but protects one from the sometimes chilly wind. There are candles lighting the pathways through the gardens up to the house, and in theory, one could take as little or as much time as one desired to relax and be transported away from the craziness of the season. Who wouldn't want that? (Yes, that one was meant truly as a question.) We will hope for record numbers of visitors this year!

July 4th

Independence Day in the U.S. of A. A very festive time indeed!
On July 4th, Bayou Bend hosts a free 4-hour event celebrating the day with 1st floor tours of the house, crafts for the kids, brass ensemble, fife and drum corps, a reading of the Declaration of Independence, jazz, birthday cake - generalized fun for all who come. Yesterday (yes, I'm writing a day later due to exxhaaaauuuustionnnnnn...), we had over 600 people come to visit with temperatures outside ranging from 100 to 105, taking into account the heat index.
It was a fun-loving and attentive crowd, and if one were to walk around just listening to people's conversations, you would hear many different languages. Many nationalities were represented, and that's not necessarily unusual for Bayou Bend because we seem to attract people from all over the world with a passion for history, architecture, furniture, and for lovely gardens. But I do think it is interesting that they would choose to spend July 4th with us. Last year, we had a family who had fairly recently arrived from Turkey, who were trying very hard to learn about this new place and what it was like to live in the USA, and they were so articulate about their excitement and about the hopes that they had for the time that they would be here. I wonder how they are doing now...
When it is all said and done, I'm very glad that we can watch the fireworks on TV. I have done the thing with the parking and the crowds and the walking and the booming overhead...and it was very grand...but now, it is also ok to watch in amazement on the tube, then roll over in one's cool, cool bed and fall into a blissful sleep.
Happy Birthday, Land that I Love!