Emergence.Discovery. End of growing season? All gardeners know, this stage right now is always just the beginning.

This is Meadowrue. She joined my garden this past spring. I had become entranced by her purple sprays for quite some time now, but just didn't have the place for her yet. Finally, I decided to make room.

I must have driven the local greenhouse mad with my calls in early spring, inquiring when it would be available for purchase. I couldn't wait to welcome Meadowrue. She comes from the family of Thalictrum, the variety, Splendide, in case you wanted to know. 

Finally it was time to meet, too early to plant, so Splendide stayed on my porch until the ground was agreeable to accept her. There were plenty of supports surrounding: Bee Balm, Woodland Poppy, Japanese Anemone; the delicate stalks and blooms could rest on these supportive blooms and stems as she grew.

I don't know if I have ever been this excited to welcome a new perennial to the garden. Many have commented on the delicate, yet strong presence within the flower arrangements at LORDE. Mesmerized by it, I know somehow you see yourself within these flowers. an intention I pray as I arrange them, as I see myself in them as well.

Here are two poems I have written in celebration of Meadowrue: one of the discovery, and one at this stage, the end of growing season, which all gardeners know, is always just the beginning.

Meadowrue Emerges

Like Meadowrue, I too, was finding I thrive in dappled light, 

not full sun as I had always been accustomed too. 

A gradual absorption of light, delicate blooms open their spray of shooting stars, purple wisps, towering over bee balms, yet very much so at ease, with arms draped over dahlias.

A bend to the body in mid stretch she reveals, 

holding a pose until the wind delegates new positioning.

 

Meadowrue Exits

We're you glad

When my life exiting became golden?

Were you saddened it was almost my time to leave?

I have been with you

All of these months

My purple spray, like shooting stars.

I am more than that, though

This you know

My physical presence

Not always, what is needed.

Remember

my purple blossoms

leaves that turn golden

Bare stems

Barren ground where I grew,

The place I remain incarnate.