The orchestra plays on 3.3.

By Susan Shanklin

I hold my baton high in  the air, with both arms up like a mighty gesture of praise, and proceed to softly sway my tanning arms to the instruments which are standing tall in my flower garden and all around the orchestra pit of 3.3 acres. In the original, an “acre” would be the  amount of land a yoke of oxen could plow up in one day. Yep, I feel like this spread of ours takes three days a shot to tend to each time. Anyway, back to the beautiful music!

The iris section.

I point to the woodwinds, aka, iris section dressed in rich purples and soft whites. Seated with deep violet colored majestic woodwinds, making a very showy impressive sound beckoning them to the tall Siberian woodwind irises to come forth with a clear sound. They’re not as large and showy as the other woodwinds, but royal and gathered together to make one harmonious sound.

The Siberian woodwinds plead with the tight buds of the yellow bearded woodwinds to pleeeease make a sound with us. Why they are called “bearded” is beyond me! Must have been named by a man! Too beautiful to be called BEARDED. I shall call them Rapunzel-petaled irises. “Make music with us,” they say, along with the chorus of white, purples and scented woodwinds.

I swing my arms to the percussion section of the peonies with the round pom pom tops, their taut membranes over the barrel blooms eaten away by hungry ants. YUM YUM.

The spirarea section.

Break forth! BOOOOOOM with spectacular  continuous rhythmic colors of luscious lemonade pinks and priestly crimson robe-like petals. Some have just a single robe on and some have double and triple robes on. Each bob and bounce shouts, “I”M HERE!” Then they seem to turn to a string section, the bridal wreath spireas, swaying gracefully to the conductor’s baton.  They are one of the smallest instrument, but many are grouped together on a branch drawing their bows in a rhythmic movement to the wind. Many, many violins border the orchestra pit, sweetly almost laughing with glee at the sounds of spring.

“Hey, how about me?” shouts the brass section of lilacs, also known as the “lip-vibrated instruments.” I would say they are more like the nose-vibrating instrument of the orchestra! “Whoa, up your nose and through your brain we go!” Their fragrant perfume permeates the whole orchestra pit. One almost gets drunk with the sweetness of the scent of robust lavenders and purples. I almost sway as I write this and think about it!

Leggy red twig dogwood tops have tiny sounding blooms, but all noise is welcomed. Primroses, bee balm, clump bell flowers and day lilies want to join the orchestra, but they have to wait their turn. All instruments cannot play at once. Some lilies and flowering phlox are rather unruly and just want to go anywhere they please, but the conductor is very straightforward and says, “No, you sit over there. There you will make a more clear sound instead of being entangled in the other instruments’ legs.”

The rose section.

The thorny roses are more quiet but make a showy statement like a delicate flute fluttering up the trellis and then down on to the picket fence. Heirloom roses across the driveway bend their canes to express gratitude and puff out a sweet delicate aroma from their blooms far into the setting sunset, as the other instruments fold up and call it a day.

The conductor’s arms are getting weary and I see the bird baths need replenishment. The eggplants are kind of laying down with their tongues hanging out gasping for water.

“Coming,” I nod. Another section of the orchestra needs attention.

Embrace life and get conducting!

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