Paw

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

I call my grandpa but still no answer from his room. Several months have passed and my sister and I are worried. We locate the senior home number and talk to a caretaker. My grandpa’s dementia continues to worsen and my step-grandma passed-away a month ago. It is nine o’clock at night and I drive to a grassy hill overlooking the town lights, a personal sanctuary during times of hardship. It is too late this time. Headlights envelop me and two officers from the nearby ranger station tell me I must leave. They understand I am grieving but I have to do it somewhere else.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

I visit my grandpa at the senior home. I have a surprise for him; an old galvanized bucket from my backyard with two pictures applied to the finish. One picture shows my grandpa gleefully hoisting me up to look at a monster truck. The other is a view of my water garden, the origin of the corkscrew willow and lemon-scented stonecrop planted in the bucket. We clasp the handle and lift the display onto a raised bed outside the facility. He cannot smell the lemon-scent but he points his finger in recognition of our picture. He touches the gravel surface inside the pot and notices a seashell, lifting it to his ear. I tell my grandpa that I’ll be thinking of him while I’m away. We retreat from the one-hundred degree sun, back inside through the windowless door.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Healing Garden Journey Begins...

Growing-Up

Emotional responses can powerfully transform the personal meaning of a garden. Many years ago, a thirteen-year-old self-proclaimed park ranger received the birthday gift of his dreams. The young ranger embraced his mom with vivacious excitement and planted the hefty gift in a dry corner of the backyard. With his mom’s help, a weekend’s effort conceived a beautiful “park-like” water garden.

Years passed, and the young ranger now foresaw a future in botany. The amateur botanist’s enthusiasm for water plants and wildlife bloomed into a horticultural hobby. The water garden embodied his interests and helped a timid adolescent express himself.

Then, the spirit who encouraged his passion received a phone call concerning “test results.” Hope and sustenance suddenly throbbed with the pulse of monthly treatments and tests that determined the “status” of the affliction.

The young man spent timeless hours in the water garden, submerged in a meandrous stream of thought. The hollow walls of home creaked with distress but the farthest corner of the backyard, a place of life that he and his mom nurtured into existence, evolved with his confluent emotions. The garden transformed into his guilt of escape, sanctuary of hope, niche for helplessness, and personal reminder of his mom’s love and indelible spirit.

One morning, the young man awoke and looked through the back window. His mom stood at the corner of the backyard with her hands clasped behind her back, looking down into pond’s placid reflection. Even though he could not hear his nurturer’s thoughts, he listened as their unspeakable fear, love, and hope echoed from a water garden imbued with the dreams of years past and the promises of tomorrow.

Purpose

Visits to over two-dozen outdoor spaces at healthcare facilities across the country inspire this journal. These posts share the experiences that continue to guide my design career and motivate me to grow as a person.