Hi. As a member of the mission group for Cedar Cross Retreat Center, I’m caring for the Sunny Garden, just behind the art studio. Cedar Cross is a 52-acre forested sanctuary for rest, reflection, and renewal located in central North Carolina. The Sunny Garden is one of a few areas where the canopy is open, allowing hours of sunshine daily. This blog is my journal as I work with the garden. Incidentally, this is all happening as the coronavirus pandemic has taken the globe. – Ginger Allen
I decided to ride up to Cedar Cross with Jimmy this morning, unplanned.
After yesterday’s dig, I was hopeful that one more day of the same could get the meditation space ready to receive the red clay that I would be excavating from the paths. After all, that was the impetus, or one of them, for the digging. I was having dirt management problems over on the pathway.
I was right. Four loads yesterday, and four loads today. I ended the day with library rods in place to mark the lower retaining wall that will be needed, and perhaps a small elevated section that could be used as a low lotus resting place, or a footrest perhaps. (Probably not the footrest thing.)
We have a retreatant this week who’s often ready to talk. She lingers and shares. She has a broad smile, and she loves Reba. I’ll call her J, and I learned that her retreat experience opened her, and that she has much new life in store.
Interacting with others at a distance of six feet or more is an interesting experience. I notice that I’m seeing the entire person, reading body language and overall energy more than facial expressions or vocal inflection. I’m uncertain whether this creates a deeper understanding or not.
J called the meditation space a “pocket.” Ding! That’s it. Now this meditation space has a name, at least for me. The Pocket. Meditation is like being in God’s pocket, safe and along for the ride.
Margaret appeared uphill calling “Rocks for sale!”
“I’m buying” was my response.
Turns out she wasn’t selling rocks. She found lots of good ones as she was hunting just one for her garden. So she brought some for me.
She had trucked all the way to the northwest corner where she said there are completely untapped piles of rocks. I made a note to scout that spot next.
Here are some notes from the SG Sketchbook:
I moved four loads of topsoil from the meditation space to the new center bed, shoveled by hand. …. IDEA: Get a pull wagon! For rocking. With real tires.
Yes, I have a ton (pun intended) of stone work ahead, and still more digging and planting, and weeding. So, I’m not sure yet exactly when is the best time to move to the fence. But I’m thinking about the design.
There are a few sketches floating around in my head and on various pieces of paper. I’m leaning toward something kind of unconventional that will help to define the space, and also provide visual interest (thinking of the Sunny Garden as an extension of the studio).
It involves a vertical metal garden stake traveling through a hole drilled in the center of a lentil rock at ground level. Above the rock, sections of cedar with a hole drilled will be threaded onto the stake. Most of the cedar sections in the stack are short, but some are long enough to reach the next stack. Hence, fence.
What about the arbor? John was a great help in the garden today with his trusty loppers and the mower. And we realized that the mower doesn’t fit in the current footprint of the arbor. So, we’ll widen it just a few inches. Can the stacks extend eight feet high? Is there a metal stake of some sort that is, say, ten feet long? I need to consult Mr. Green Jeans.
Today was a busy day in the garden, and a hard day. I came home with an itchy rash after I spent most of the day on my hands and knees weeding and pulling roots, all while I was thinking about the fence, and about fences in general. We’re all functioning as if we are individually fenced. They call it “social distancing.”
This morning during morning prayers (it’s Monday) we talked about the pandemic. From now on, the paradigms of our lives will be pre-pandemic, pandemic, and post-pandemic. We will be forever changed, and we’re hoping for the better. As expressed by John, and I agree, there were many aspects of our society that were broken and are better left behind. I still find myself preoccupied wondering how bad it’s going to get, and for how long.
It’s like waiting for death.
And yet, I planted the tiniest of seeds a few days ago. And they’ve germinated already.
Maggie moved out of her room at WCU last week with Austin’s help. Today Mae moves out at UNCA. She’s allowed to bring one other person to assist her, and she has a three-hour window to pack up and move out. When she came home for spring break, she didn’t know that she would not be going back, per COVID19.
So, Reba and I headed up to work with the garden. John visited early in the day and commented on the frequency of my days in the garden lately.
“I’ve got a lot of time on my hands,” I replied. It’s a Thursday.
My wholesale business is “on hold” indefinitely. The venues to which I sell are all closed, deemed not essential. Suddenly I’m without income, and I’m left with questions about whether my work is “essential.” I always thought it was, believing that art elevates the soul, and that jewelry is an intimate art form in that it’s wearable and wrought with meaning for the wearer. Are those truths still true?
I’m ready for more stone work. But I decide to spend some time weeding in other areas to broaden my scope. I need time to think things through, when it comes to rocks, that is.
I have learned to think of the rock and the earth as concave and convex mirrors. And I’ve learned that soft red clay, which I often reach when I dig deep enough, is the perfect under layer for a stone that’s going to be walked on. I started out with slim stones, much wider than they are deep from the flat side. Turns out a stone with a flat side and a little more depth is much more ideal, more stable.
Digging deeper is causing some issues, bringing up stuff that I hadn’t planned to deal with. (Ha! Isn’t that how it goes. Should I start a list of garden metaphors for the contemplative life?) I have surplus red clay, and I have no idea what to do with it.
Until… I’m weeding on the east side when I notice a little tucked down area behind the main planting bed, just to the left of the arbor. I’m intrigued.
It would be an ideal place for meditation. There’s already what seems like a foot stone and a break in the stone wall. So, I set more stones to build a small retaining wall on the back side of the planting bed. And I kept weeding. Stoning. Weeding. And so on. And so forth.
The soil in the meditation space is rich. It’s on the downward slope from the entire garden, which years ago was graded and built up with fresh topsoil, and seeded as a lawn. There’s not much lawn left per se, but that topsoil is still there, much of it washed downhill from the main courtyard.
So, I’m thinking the thing to do is to 1) remove the topsoil from the meditation space and move it to the forthcoming center bed around the sculpture, 2) use the excess clay from the walkway to build up (level, with slight grade for drainage) the meditation space with a small retaining wall on the downside with the new fence line, and a stoned surface. That’s the order of operations as I understand it for now.
That, plus the plan to keep showing up to see what this garden has to teach me.
Jimmy went with me to explore the stone piles along the road, and we found a mesmerizing, mossy pile right by the big magnolia tree. Several of them, in fact.
We chose several large rocks, being sure not to too greatly diminish the appeal of the mesmerizing long pile. Back at the Sunny Garden, I tried to place them being mindful of placing the mossy side facing north when I could.
I am finding a new purpose in this work for me. Or maybe I’m just beginning to gain an awareness of why I was so curious about this forgone garden.
This morning we shared morning prayers in The Lodge instead of WoodSong so we could maintain “social distancing” per COVID19.
It was my turn to lead. We read the parable of the prodigal son (Luke 14:11-32), and then the introduction to Mirabai Starr’s chapter called “CoCreating” in Wild Mercy.
I have enjoyed my new weekly rhythm since the winter markets.
After their annual retreat, John and Margaret asked about sharing morning prayers with us (Jimmy and me). We readily accepted, wanting more opportunities for community and for time at Cedar Cross. I moved one of my extra benches into the studio and planned to begin each week with CX Studio Monday. And, CX Mondays would begin with morning prayers.
I also have a Sunny Garden sketchbook, and I’ll share those entries here from time to time. Here’s today’s:
It’s my “studio Monday” — I should be at my bench, but I’m fascinated with the stone pathway I’ve begun. That’s all I want to do.
Orders are being cancelled. But I still have some.
I continue with the work I began a few days earlier. Somehow I never, well, not much, get time at the bench. I did cut a few slices of tubing.
It’s becoming apparent that the Sunny Garden is a gift for me. It’s a project that I can’t finish in a day, and, unlike a piece of jewelry, it is literally alive. It will continue to change and develop with the seasons and the passage of time.
At this point we are just getting to know each other. I have no idea what is planted where, and as things are sprouting I am continually curious to see what emerges.
John mentioned a while back that he always thought the courtyard needed a focal point – something in the center of the circle. Today I found one.
I used a wagon wheel hoop that was leaning against the studio building and some of the heaviest, chunkiest rocks in the stash to build a sculpture in the center. I was really just playing, but I do think there’s potential.
The mission group at Cedar Cross heard my questions about the Sunny Garden and answered each one carefully. I began asking these questions months ago, and they became more frequent after my personal painting retreat last September.
“Does anyone ever use the Sunny Garden?”
What’s the story with the arbor?”
“Have y’all seen that wasp’s nest in the studio door to the Sunny Garden?”
The mission group oversees the ministry of Cedar Cross Retreat Center. Monthly the mission group and other volunteers come together for a 24-hour retreat which includes working together to take on tasks that need attention. The task list is reviewed by the group, and each individual is invited to engage any task that they choose.
The month prior I had deeply enjoyed working with Mac in the Moss Garden. Getting my hands in the earth felt so good – healing in a primal way. So, this time I asked if I could rake the leaves in the Sunny Garden left behind from last fall. And I also asked Margaret if she would show me what’s planted where to give me a better idea of the design concepts in play.
Margaret and I walked to the Sunny Garden after morning prayers. She headed straight for some tiny peony sprouts, and then she pointed out some quince that was still blooming from the winter. And then, before you know it, we were yanking weeds and raking leaves. It felt like we were shedding a heavy winter coat on the first warm day.
Butch came along with the leaf blower and the mower to mulch some of the leaves. Others pulled tarps full of leaves and pruned bushes. Vickie noticed a brick peeking up from the main center area.
“Clean me off?”
So she did. I went to prepare lunch and was thrilled to come back to see an entire little brick patio uncovered, and a big bucket of delicious topsoil.
That afternoon Butch helped me move three piles of surplus stones from the Moss Garden. With those available I decided to see if I could fill the pathway with set stones instead of the 12-inch tiles we had been using as pavers.
As we worked I noticed the beautiful bones of the garden — the stone walls, the arbor, and even the fence that despite its dilapidated state still managed to define the space. So much intention and effort went into creating this space about sixteen years ago. I would love to see a photo of it then.
I am drawn to engage this garden. Cedar Cross is vast with many gardens and areas to tend. I have several favorite spots – Fernbrook, the Labyrinth, and Creekside. I’ve noticed that as time passes, my favorites shift and change. But never before have I wanted to go so deep in a space, to unearth it to see what it may teach me.
I began to envision stone pathways into the courtyard, butterflies and birds about, a mix of perennials and annuals and shrubs, a view into the woods, and tucked-in spots for pausing to ponder that could all work together to enrich the experiences of retreatants.
Hi. As a member of the mission group for Cedar Cross Retreat Center, I’m caring for the Sunny Garden, just behind the art studio. Cedar Cross is a 52-acre forested sanctuary for rest, reflection, and renewal located in central North Carolina. The Sunny Garden is one of a few areas where the canopy is open, allowing hours of sunshine daily. This blog is my journal as I work with the garden. Incidentally, this is all happening as the coronavirus pandemic has taken the globe. – Ginger Allen
Sunny Garden Journal Vocabulary
library rods – once the knobs and metal rods in a nearby library’s paper card catalog drawers (pre-computer days), now our garden markers The Pocket – tucked-in meditation space in southeast corner
Sunny Garden Journal People
Butch – Mr. Green Jeans, mission group convener Jimmy – Cedar Cross Coordinator & author’s husband John – forest steward, Cedar Cross co-founder Lillie – mission group Mac – mission group member, Moss Garden creator Mae – author’s daughter Maggie – author’s daughter Margaret – original Sunny Garden gardener, Cedar Cross co-founder Olivia – author’s daughter Reba – cool dog Ruthie – author’s daughter Vickie – mission group member
Jimmy Allen
Ginger Allen