Mother's Day 2006

Ah, Springtime in Virginia. One benefit of my role as an artist is the ability to travel to interesting places. I am now creating seven interior murals in a new Harley-Davidson store near Richmond. One of my colleagues at the store suggested a Sunday excursion to the local Ginter Botanical Gardens. I had found a friend that shares an affinity for horses, Harleys, and, now we can add to the list, horticulture. So we made our plans.

On a gray and cool Mother’s Day morning, our journey through this historically rich part of the country began. We found; at the end of a labyrinth of highways, country roads, and city boulevards; the brick and stone entranceway to the gardens. Once inside the ornamental iron perimeter, the driveway meandered through acres of lush grass, islands of flora, and exotic trees. The winding road led to a parking area that surrounded a group of structures, the main compound.

Once out of the car, curious walkways invited us up stone steps to massive double front doors. Our reward, inside, was the grand foyer of the main building. An art exhibit waited in the polished terrazzo hallways that flanked us. A promise of an afternoon concert with a jazz quartet was posted on an easel that stood before us. The afternoon looked hopeful. A map accompanied our tickets. After a quick review, we made our plans to explore this place.

Limestone walkways form an aorta of sorts, starting at the backdoor and splitting off from the courtyard leading toward a variety of outdoor gardens. As we made our way through the glass doors, the sky began to cry.

Our host at the ticket booth pointed into the corner, beyond a stone pillar.

“Why don’t you take that with you?”

An umbrella waited.

My companion grabbed the welcome device, and we confidently launched ourselves out into the formal garden area, despite the sprinkling rain.

“Here,” Susan offered, “you’re tall. You hold the umbrella.”

I thought to myself, “I am the man. I will hold the umbrella.”

I masterfully found the spring release, hidden inside the still folded up contraption, and fumbled with it.

My companion watched this ineptitude for only a moment before she reached out, pushed the trigger and released it.

A gentle push and the fabric grew taut on the ribs… but, what is this? My push must have been a bit too much. I must not know my own strength. The ribs had gone past the ideal point. Now, I am standing in the strengthening rain, with guests all around scrambling for shelter, holding what appears to be a fabric ice cream cone on a stick.

I thought, “Good thing I am the man and that I am resourceful. I will fix this thing.”

I calculated that a manner of coaxing all the ribs back into the desired position would be easy enough. I inverted the cone, and began to press the sopping perimeter of all the tips evenly against the paving stones. The conical shape did assume more of a disc configuration. Then I made a startling discovery; I found that I had created the world’s largest suction cup, made even more effective at sticking fast to the pavement by the layer of water that was everywhere; and that my new found friend had retreated from the deluge in disbelief, and was in the midst of experiencing a blend of embarrassment, gut wrenching laughter, and amusement at my antics.

Pressing the teepee-shaped device against the floor did promote the desired response, becoming a disc shape at the end of the handle, but it wouldn’t remain that shape without my holding it down. I also discovered that this device was glued to the floor. Each time I pulled it up, the umbrella reverted back to its less than desirable inverted shape, and I discovered that it stood there on its own, quite sturdily.

There I was, standing in the pouring rain with an umbrella glued to the sidewalk.

“Perhaps, if it were yellow,” I figured, “ it would be handy as one of those cones that warn you of a slick, recently mopped floor.

My companion, between giggles and tears, finally did come to my rescue and together we pried the device from the pathway, inverted the soggy form, and bent it back to its intended shape. Then, finally, our excursion could begin.

The rain subsided, and we walked through a plethora of lovely flowering zones that made up this peaceful mecca. The birds resumed their singing, and the flowers and greenery appeared especially brilliant due to the prismatic effect of the many rain droplets on the leaves, and blossoms combined with the illumination coming from the clearing sky.

Appreciation for nature’s beauty began to blossom inside like expectant buds that represent tomorrow’s flowers, spiced along the way with regular intervals of a duet of laughter, as we recalled our humorous episode at the gardens.