The most wonderful time of the year
The 1963 Christmas classic popularized by Andy Williams is an uplifting song. It’s about spending time with family and friends, celebrating the birth of Jesus, volunteering our time and efforts for the less fortunate among us. Waltz of the Flowers from Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite premiered at Christmas time in 1892 and has been an iconic classic ever since. Young Clara is rewarded with sweets and a prince and the wondrous harp glissandos are pure magic.
But what about those waltzing flowers? As I look out my kitchen window, I see my loop loc covered in snow with a pump in the middle of the cover, my glass greenhouse, currently unheated, dripping with menacing ice stalactites, my rose garden looking completely spent, blowing in the wind, and the branches of my thirty foot arbor vitae perilously close to snapping under the weight of this winter wonderland. So, for every Waltz of the Flowers, I give you “Spring” from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. For every “Sleigh Ride” by Leroy Anderson, I say, “Spring Song” by Felix Mendelssohn, and notwithstanding the 50 million listeners who have purchased “White Christmas”, I cast my ballot for the first movement of Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony (The Pastoral).
So, does this mean I don’t like Christmas? Of course not. Then what type of person unabashedly prefers Springtime to Christmas? That, my friends, I can answer with one word: GARDENERS.
That said, one must be discreet when standing in front of the Bergdorf or Bloomie’s holiday displays singing the praises of deadheading and mulch. It would be like walking around midtown wearing a MAGA hat. You wouldn’t exactly blend in with the crowd.
From my perspective, God created vast expanses of dirt so that the gardeners among us can make them beautiful. Flowering trees, shrubs, bushes, borders, annuals, perennials, biennials. Monet showed us that even ponds can be transformed by lilies. So, everyday (if we like) from March 20th to September 21st, we can make our own little worlds beautiful just like Monet did. Our flower beds are our canvas, and are oil paints and pastels are our vast array of flowers. I call it “painting with flowers”. The most satisfying moment of any day, outside in the garden, is when a neighborhood mom comes by, walking her dog, or with a young child in tow, and I invite them to pick whichever flowers strike their fancy. I will also bring bouquets to elderly grandparents of my friends for their birthdays or for Mother’s Day. Seeing the expression of pleasure on their faces makes me a very happy gardener.
I am also a musician. I play and teach piano, clarinet, and violin. One day, about two weeks after the glorious display of daffodils and tulips started to fade, I realized that a brand new group of players were coming to the fore. I realized that God was the conductor of this floral symphony and that each flower was like a musical instrument. The daffodils and tulips were among the first to appear, so I turned them into violins and violas. Lilacs, weeping cherries, azaleas, and magnolias were the wind players, i.e., the clarinets, oboes, flutes, and English horns. And as each section of the orchestra got their chance to shine, there would be a decrescendo, followed by the cuing in of the next section. Then the brass would enter in no uncertain terms. Trumpets, trombones, French horns, tubas, representing, flash, color, brilliance and hybrid tea roses, coneflowers, coreopsis, shasta daisies, garden phlox, all brought in on cue from their beautiful fortissimo to the inevitable coda of multicolored chrysanthemums on our front steps, signifying autumn.
Gardening, painting, music, three intertwined joys of life.
-Richard Weiss, December 2023
