Still Lives

grief, death, & gardens

TW: death of a parent

When the separation began, all of the plants died. I had left them outside when the frost came and as I carried the pots into my new home I cried in anger. This was the first of so many endings. I desperately and briefly wondered if they might be brought back to life, but as I surveyed their wilted leaves I realized I had not chosen a single one of these plants for myself. All of them had been given to me. All of them gifts; on my birthday, my wedding day, Christmas day. Even though I didn't ask for them, I had done my best to care for these living creatures, buying beautiful handmade pots to house them, watering them, and putting each of them in the correct amount of sunlight. Only a bad wife would let the houseplants die.

I’m a vase-of-flowers person. The ephemerality of cut flowers has always felt more my speed. They are dying from the moment they are harvested. The word for this is senescence. When I buy or am given flowers I sigh with relief - here is something beautiful that will wilt before my eyes and I will not be at fault for it. A vase of flowers is permission to feel joy; for me, it is a rare instance where I feel disconnected from shame. Sometimes I'll cut the stems at an angle, rearrange them, even, and refill the water; other times I simply enjoy them as the bow and fade.

[And yet, my gemini self wants a garden, someday. A wild and weedy garden. My journal from 2016 confirms this:

"The seed catalog infuriates and soothes me. I flip each page and imagine the garden I might have someday, filled with antique fruits, mysterious vines, medieval herbs, and flowers in every free bit of dirt. I will feed people I love with this garden, someday. I want to grow something good. I want to grow lavender in pots and crush the leaves when I walk by and smell, everyday, like dirt."]

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a paint-by-numbers of Irises by Vincent Van Gogh.

I've been putting off writing this newsletter because it's the one where I have to share that my mom died. After a year of battling cancer she spent almost a month in hospice surrounded by friends and family and our beloved dog. She died on the evening of September 20th, just as the seasons began to change. These past two months have truly been the most difficult of my life and I've been struggling with my mental and physical health like never before. My lease ended on Halloween and I moved back in with family friends for a chance to rest and tend to my health.

I don't know how best to write about any of this, other than to say it feels like time has stopped. It's extremely difficult to imagine life without her. The excerpt at the beginning of this missive was the first thing I was able to write after her death that made sense. When I look through my work over the years I realize I've been writing about death my entire life, and have gathered myriad metaphors to help me understand it and process it. What I'm finding real comfort in now is gardens, not just the metaphor of growth, death, and decay that they offer, but the actual, physical, hands in the dirt reality of them. This year I've been also been leaning more and more into my writing practice and I sense that it will be a healing source for me in the months and years to come.

There is something so beautiful and forgiving about a garden; something always comes back, even if it's dandelions and milkweed. The weeds and tomatoes both give way to rot after a season of growth, and in the spring - the ecstatic blossoming.

I've been working on and off on this paint-by-numbers that I picked up this summer, and I finally finished it a few mornings ago. It has been such a grounding exercise and it feels good to 'complete' something, even something as simple as this. As I worked on it, I meditated on the concept of the still life - an attempt to preserve something that changes even as it is painted. I have an idea of where these thoughts are wending, but I can't say for sure where they will take me.

Thank you as ever for reading and supporting my work. When I began this substack newsletter my goal was to grow to have 500 readers by the new year...and there are 430 of you as I'm typing! If you enjoy my writing and work, please consider sharing this with a friend, or even sharing on your socials :) It really makes a difference and means a lot to me!

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A few links and notes:

• My last vending event of the year will be at PortFiber in Portland, where I’ll be joined by several local makers for a trunk show! I will have a bunch of my sewing tools and supplies as well as my printed goods. December 3rd, 11-4:30. It’s going to be a really fun day!

• I have gotten a lot of insight and comfort over the past 3 years from the art of Chelsea Granger. She also has a page on her website with a reading list of books about death and grief, which is such an amazing resource <3

• I'm working on a new online shop so you can place orders easily for the holidays and beyond and I have a few new things brewing that I'm so excited to share with you soon - stickers (!!!) a restock of my best selling prints (!!!!) and a new BOOK (!!!!!!). All will be revealed in the next couple of weeks :)

Our Beloved Lisa, 9/10/67 - 9/20/22 <3 <3 <3

Take care, and take heart xoxo

m