As a teacher of the history of textile design, I’d compare them to historical, weathered fabrics, which only show the non-faded shades of colour in which the most meaningful shapes and the aesthetically most valuable patterns had been woven. There are vague contours, so that in some places you may see a flash of bare warps as the weft has worn away. In inherited gardens, the branches of huge trees are stretched out like the durable warps, and between them the most ethereal weft – the song of the birds – is woven. In places like that, you feel the care and the kindness of past generations and perceive their aesthetic sense, you try to preserve what is left, and plant your own bed of herbs and flowers, and make them fit into the flowing tapestry of time and garden that keeps you in balance and gives you hope…
If all goes well, if the moment is right, you will feel the presence of the Great Gardener. And you think that man is powerful, but nature is even more powerful: if you leave the garden unweeded and untended for just half a year, you will see who will walk and grow there.
A happy gardener works from the heart.
Tiina Puhkan
