I always knew I would be a designer of some sort. An artist, an architect, a fabric designer, a jeweler… those are just a few, I had so many options and interests. One thing was clear, I wasn’t going to achieve any of my creative dreams in the comfortable, but rather unsophisticated suburban town I grew up in. So inevitably, I left my small hometown, went to college, moved to nearest available urban center, Houston, and not too many years later, on to New York City. Along the way I completed my formal education – in as much as education is ever complete, found or was found by true love, built a career, and had many adventures, both wonderful and horrible. This life so far has been amazing, and ultimately exhausting, and I would give up almost nothing I have experienced. Perhaps it’s a natural part of growing up, but as I matured I began to appreciate some (but not all!) of the benefits of my hometown. I never intended to leave it completely, and had always kept some connections current and alive. I returned occasionally for visits, and even though most of what I remembered about the town appeared to stay the same, when I finally returned on a more permanent footing, I realized deeper changes were inevitable. The idyllic Arcadian small town and surrounding wilderness of my childhood is lost now, gone forever, slowly frittered away by time, progress, and the ever expanding urban boundaries of Houston. The people of my childhood have changed. Old friends have grown up, moved away or like me changed in viewpoint or interests. Adults I trusted and learned from have grown old and passed away. Inevitable change has taken it’s course. Through it all, I always understood that in some way my heart and soul belonged in a garden. Now, some 40 years later, I find it is time to return to a garden… the garden…my garden. As I said at the beginning, a garden is a metaphor for life, and my life is in desperate need of things my heart tells me only a garden can supply, among them healing, direction, and peace of mind, so I hope, or need this garden to perform some very specific functions. In my memories I still see the gardens of my childhood. I know I can never return to the past, but I know I can look back, and I hope I can recreate in some small way the sense of wonder from that time. Only time will tell if I can create a garden… the garden, the Arcadia, that holds what I seek.
