There is a time of day officially allotted to birds. They wake up, maybe shake of their feathers, and begin to sing all at once. Called the Dawn Chorus, it's the time when these sky photos were taken, just before the sun comes up. The birds announce their territory and check in with their species members for location and a general I'm okay/you're okay report and what other unknowable communications? In our semi urban neighborhood it's one of the only times of day when it's quiet enough to hear them, before we layer it up with human sounds.
Doing flowers for a Memorial/Life Celebration holds a special place in my heart. I've lost a number of friends; way too young, along with my parents and Jon's parents. And then there are our beloved animals, Bosco, Moey, Moo Shu, and Ruby... It's familiar, gut wrenching territory. These times are so raw and weighted in the sorrow, though there has always been a bittersweet kind of beauty and grace and even moments of laughter. It's such a distinct place mentally, a temporary circle of people whose members band together to perform their tasks and rituals and grieve. It's a sacred space, if I can use that word. The flowers take their place as they do for all of our important passages in life, side by side with us.
These flowers were for a beloved member of the renowned Modern Mandolin Quartet who taught at the San Francisco Music Conservatory. I worked on this together with Max lampert, my dear friend and often creative partner. Bruce Veldhuizen, also a close friend and sought after builder of fine cabinetry and creative pieces, built this complex sphere that he graciously loaned to us.
So the last few days, I've been going down into a darkened cold room and checking out the 8ft tall magnolia branches sitting in a corner in a bucket. They went from bud form to bloom and I teased off the spent blossoms, layering the floor in petals. The branches were too grand to pass up for an upcoming memorial of a very renowned and beloved musician in the classical mandolin playing community. It was also too early to be buying them. But this opportunity would not present itself again, until I am more connected to the growers and procurers of flowers And so the effort to retard their bloom for as long as possible. It was rather sad that these abundantly spectacular blossoms in first bloom were seen by no one but me for brief moments. But there are still quite a number of blooms and the branching structure itself is sculptural and magnificent and will be used to it's best.These are from the small branch I brought up into the light.
This was such a wonderful group; so curious, open, willing to help each other and generous of spirit. Sometimes I don't want the classes to end.
Here's their work:
Gilla
Nancy
Susan
Devi
Susan
