More Wabi-Sabi Photos

Today I documented our organic gardening process with my camera, so I'll get those photos ready soon, along with some basic information for using the raised beds. In the meantime, here are some more wabi-sabi photos from my small town homestead. Enjoy!

The statue of Our Lady and the Child Jesus was handcrafted by a company online (don't remember the name offhand). It is attached to an upside down urn, as we get heavy winds in NW Ohio. The bird bath is from a garden center in Ft. Wayne, IN. The field stone came from our yard, which the previous owner used as natural garden borders. The empty pots now have something planted in them, which you will see in a future post.

This weathered bird feeder, from one of those home shows, hangs from the tree next to the brick patio where you see the statue and bird bath. This is a very popular stop for our feathered friends--a place to eat, drink, bathe, and rest...

 Bark worn off from much tree climbing!

fading lilacs

 

 Huge, rusted TV tower. Our home was built in 1908 of local field stone, with a terra cotta tile roof.

 Cool pattern left on the house after my husband tore out the poison oak. We all got the itchy rash, but at least I got a great picture!!

A bamboo wind chime from Dollar General, hung against the garage by Beezy.

 Next door neighbor's broken bird bath. She blamed our cat, but I don't believe it!!

Wabi-Sabi in Nature

I got my new camera for Mother's Day, a Canon SX160 IS, and I love it! I began by taking some photos around my yard, porches, and outside of the house for examples of the wabi-sabi aesthetic. Wabi-sabi is the Japanese art of imperfect beauty, which has its roots in "the way of tea".  Shaza kissa means, "Well, sit down and have some tea." It's about simple elegance, hospitality, humility, and the transitional phases of nature--the moments of being tight in the bud or in the stage of fading and falling away.

Wabi-sabi is weathered, rusty, well-loved and well-worn. It is handmade. Wildflowers placed in a pottery container as they naturally would grow, rather than a precise arrangement of roses in a glass vase. It is vintage, not newly produced in a factory. Cobblestones, adobe, clotheslines, and flea markets. Wabi-wabi cannot be bought as a set in a store; it must evolve organically, which requires patience and time.

Wabi-sabi is not dirty and cluttered. There is a divine order to nature. Days have their own rhythm, and the cycles of birth, growth, decay, death, and rebirth are honored. Pulling weeds by hand instead of killing with chemicals. Sleeping when we are tired and eating when we are hungry. Keeping things neat and clean but not sanitized with toxic chemicals. Reflecting and conversing over a cup of tea.  Listening.

What can you salvage rather than throw away? How does cotton feel against your skin, as opposed to polyester? What art might you create to decorate your home; what pictures made by your children could you frame? Chipped paint, crumbled plaster, frayed rope, cracked teacups--can you find the beauty in these? And when you gaze in the mirror, can you accept with love the wrinkles, the scars, the bulges, the crookedness?

Let your hair curl and frizz in the heat and humidity, as it is wont to do. Put your flat iron away. Wear linen, which looks great wrinkled. Don't just think outside the box--dance, dream, live and believe in some small way differently from usual every day. Let go of the need to control. There is a healing balm to be found in your own home and right in your own backyard--the embracing of the wabi-sabi way. Who can you welcome today?

R.H. Series, Day 11 (Wabi Sabi)

Last Saturday was a perfect Indian Summer day. I clipped 3 immaculate hydrangeas from the bush in my front yard and placed them in an elegant, clear green glass vase and set them in the entryway on a vintage serving cart where they could be seen by anyone from the open front door. I was having guests on my porch, so I thought the flowers would be a nice touch. I prefer to allow blossoms to live, so I rarely cut them.

In just a week it has turned much cooler, although today you could still feel the warmth of the sun if you paid very careful attention between strong gusts of wind. Yesterday the lawn was uniformly covered with a blanket of orange leaves, and I thought to take a picture but didn't. Today all of the leaves were blown to one side and heaped onto the porch steps, leaving the lawn asymetrical, imperfect. This is the time of Wabi-Sabi, the Japanese aesthetic and philosophy of imperfect Beauty. Because nothing lasts, there is bittersweet perfection in the fading of the flower.

I love hydrangeas. They were the primary flowers in my wedding bouquet. A tangled web of vines had grown over my bush, and I had intended to cut it back, but I guess I was just lazy. Today I had to admit that though all of the rain we got a few weeks ago extended their glorious blossoming, they were just beginning to fade, and I suddenly found myself with a pair of scissors in hand, cutting away at the vines, which were on their way out anyway. The largest hydrangea remaining, once freed from the weight of the vine, rebounded majestically. Except for the slightest beginnings of browning, it is still in the fullness of its bloom, and I did not cut it.

I felt in awe of these flowers, which despite the oppression of greedy vines had held their own, used to bowing their heads naturally, daring to peek out in their lushness of awesome shades of pink and pale green, unconquerable. Their beauty was too profound to be hidden. Like that children's church song, "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine... Hide it under a bush--oh no! I'm gonna let it shine." I cut several of the browning blossoms but left a few to tough it out to the end. I may bring that big one in soon and dry it, keeping it as a memento of what I learned today.

What or who is weighing you down? What has you all tangled up inside? Are you hiding your beauty underneath, afraid to cut out everything in your life, and yourself, except for what you know to be beautiful, useful, good, or necessary? I am the hydrangea. You are the hydrangea. Remember. Never forget.