The Artist and the Orchard: A Memoir

I now hold the book in my hands. I’m surprised by its slight weight, it’s smooth surface. The cover painting is a detail from a watercolor of the orchard and inside are the rows of trees: training in the Noh Theater in Kyoto, raising my children in the old Baptist church in Groton, Massachusetts, moving to Old Frog Pond Farm in nearby Harvard, restoring an abandoned orchard, Zen Buddhist training, and the important personal relationships that have shaped my life.

The book leaning against the wall sculpture, Repetition of Days, from “The Agricultural Tool Series.”

Like a sapling, this writing has taken years to bear fruit. I have written mostly in winter. However, soon after settling into a writing schedule, the first warmth fills the air and the farming season begins. The doing takes over—the weeding, the planting, the tending. I’ve had to learn patience. While the apple trees have had to withstand a freak October ice storm, vole attacks, and the confusion of spring coming far too early, I’ve also lived through challenging events. The hope, of course, is that I am a little stronger. After all, like the trees, we can learn to be resilient and generous despite the inevitable setbacks the wild beasts leave at our door.

Now the published book is here and I hope many of you will celebrate with me on Saturday, October  30th at 2 pm. We’ll meet at Sanctuary, a recently restored large church in the center of Maynard, Massachusetts. In keeping with the community of individuals of who have contributed to the becoming of the book, a few musicians and poets will share the stage with me. Seating will be around small tables and make it possible to maintain social distances. We’ll wear masks and vaccination certificates will be checked at the door (or a PCR test within three days.)

Copies of The Artist the Orchard: A Memoir will be for sale. If you have already bought one, come anyway and I’ll sign your book. If you live far away, the memoir is now available from the publisher, Loom Press, local bookstores as well as at bookstore.org and other online sites.

Enjoy the new season, and I look forward to sharing this event with you.

Hooray!

I received an email from an apple grower colleague asking if I’d mind if he read a poem I had shared with our holistic apple growers group. He will be speaking at the UU Church in Lincoln, Massachusetts on Sunday, April 25th.  I imagine he is speaking for their Earth Day service because of his long history of caring about apples and in particular, the heirloom apples of Maine. John Bunker is not only an apple grower, he is an apple sleuther. He has made it his life’s work to identify as many old apples in Maine as possible. People bring him apples, send him apples, email him photos of apples, and stop him on the street to tell him of old trees they know of and want to identify. John published a book in 2019, Apples and the Art of Detection: Tracking Down, Identifying, and Preserving Rare Apples.

The poem he was referring to in his email was one by the great 14th century Persian poet, Hafez.  

An Apple Tree Was Concerned

An apple tree was concerned 
about a late frost and losing its gifts 
that would help feed a poor family close by. 
Can't the clouds be generous with what falls from them? 
Can't the sun ration itself with precision? 

They can speak, trees, 
they can say the sweetest things
but it takes special ears to hear them,
ears that have listened to people
with great care. 

Indeed, this poem feels quite timely given wintry weather we experienced here in New England on Friday. 

I wrote back to John saying, “Of course! I think Hafez would be delighted.” And I was grateful to be reminded of it, because I, too, will be speaking on that same Sunday at our UU Church in Harvard with good friends, Piali De and her mother-in-law, Marion Stoddart.

Marion Stoddart is well known to many because of her groundbreaking work to inspire and lead the restoration of the Nashua River, at one time one of most polluted rivers in America. Piali De is a brilliant scientist and the CEO of Sensio Systems, an innovative company leading the way to support healthcare at home. We’ll be speaking about lessons learned from restoring the Nashua River, bringing back an abandoned orchard, and raising questions about ownership of land and the importance of ‘common’ land. You can go to the website for the UU Church in the Town of Harvard if you would like to join us next Sunday.

Cultivating Love is part of my new installation for Studios Without Walls exhibit, The Light Gets In, opening on May 28, 2021

Though the Apples, Art, and Spirit blog has been silent in recent months, things are changing. My family has gone through their share of both life and Covid challenges. But we’re coming out on the other side. We’re turning our attention to reopening the farm, taking care of the perennial crops, and planting annual vegetables and flowers.

While weeding the rhubarb I grabbed this fellow. But it did not glide away!

Now we need some cooperation from the weather gods.

Apricots are the earliest blossoming of our fruit trees.

Our apricot tree is in full bloom as are early peaches. It’s likely that we have lost the fruit from these trees. We hope the apples are fine. I’ll be checking on them, and definitely listen to what they have to say.

At the end of my note to John Bunker, I wrote, “Thanks for the reminder. We need each other!”

John quickly wrote back, “Not only do we need each other... we HAVE each other! Hooray!

Yes, we need each other! And we have each other! 

One Heart

The oaks reveal their stark and pointed branches now that their leaves have fallen to the ground. They reach for the clouds; they scallop the sky. They shimmer in ripples in the pond. But near the bank where the soft and leafy ground meets the water, there is only darkness. Shade cast by the white pines extends out from the land. I travel through this darkness as if on a turtle’s back, out almost to the middle of the pond.

Turtle Refuge, bronze, LH 2020

We ride beyond the quivering muddiness, beyond the discomforts, beyond the thick pines that obscure any light or shape to where the branches point direction.

We ride in a small boat—fellow refugees, activists, seekers, artists, and poets. What can we do during these strange times?  What has meaning when so much is taken away? Where can we find something that holds? A place to land.

Boat Refuge, wax, 2020, LH

I search for a place where pond and sky meet inside my body—where I can form love with warm wax pressed between my fingertips. I made this small sketch, an idea for a new sculpture.

After finishing it, (it’s at the foundry and I don’t have a photo of the final version in wax) I started work on One Heart, three times as large.

One Heart, wax, 2020 LH in the studio. (15”H x 14”W x 6”D)

I sent a photo to a friend and moments later she sent back this poem by Li-Young Lee.

  One Heart

Look at the birds. Even flying
is born

out of nothing. The first sky
is inside you, open

at either end of the day.
The work of wings

was always freedom, fastening
one heart to every falling thing. 

I quickly wrote back, “How could you find such a perfect poem? A thousand falling hearts in the open sky to you!!”

She answered, “I love it so much it's taped to the inside lid of my incense box at the office. I read it every day.”

Next will be a larger heart. Maybe there will be room for birds and flowers, a few fish and trees on this one. After all, we are in relationship with everything else. We are interdependent and interconnected. We are one heart.

Juggling Flowers, Fruit, and Vegetables

The Garden: photo Robert Hesse

Raspberries, butternut squash, and tomatoes have taken over my Saturday mornings when I would normally write the blog for Sunday. I know how to juggle three balls from my days as a professional mime, but throw in a little art, add some poetry, and the juggling gets even more thrilling.

Our Outdoor Sculpture Exhibit, Around the Pond and through the Woods on the theme of REFUGE continues Thursdays through Sundays, 11 - 4 pm.

Refuge Within, Liz Fletcher: Photo Robert Hesse

Walt Whitman visits the farm on Saturday, September 19th at 2 pm.
We will be hosting a visit from the towering Walt Whitman. If you’ve never seen Stephen Collins’ portrayal of the young, questioning Whitman, as well as the aging brilliant raconteur of love and longing, this is a rare opportunity to enjoy it en plein air. Stephen will be performing in front of the pond near my studio. Flinging Whitman’s words to the open sky makes Whitman’s poetry soar. I imagine even the kingfishers will pause to listen. Seating is limited so RSVP to reserve your seat. Tickets: $15.

Live Plein Air Poetry on Sunday afternoon, September 20th at 3 pm.
Join 26 poets sharing the poems they have written for Refuge, our online chapbook of site-specific poetry, inspired by the fields, pond, garden, trees, and creatures who live at the farm. The Zoom event will feature photographs by Brent Mathison who traced the paths of the poets and captured the glow of their words. Lynn Horsky designed the elegant chapbook. Poetry Editor Susan Edwards Richmond will be our host. You can join the livestream of this event beginning at 3 pm Sunday, at  facebook.com/OldFrogPondFarm and download the chapbook at at: penandanvil.com/hw/chapbooks.  There will be an opportunity to order a digital print copy as well.

On Saturday, September 26th we celebrate Bolton Harvard Open Studios from 10—4 pm.

When the farm season ends, I look forward to returning to more intimate blog post writing. Meanwhile, I hope you are keeping all your balls in the air!

Linda Hoffman, A Mudhead Mime, 1975