The Orchard House

Every creative person needs a space of their own where they can create. What happens when the space becomes the creation?

The Orchard House

 Five years ago, I started a small orchard on a portion of land we call home. My youngest grandson was almost five at the time. He accompanied me as we dug holes, and one by one planted four trees.                             

      Two peach trees, one pear, and one apple. With each tree that was planted I pulled from a bag a sample of the fruit that each tree would produce. As we piled the last spade full of dirt on the base of each tree, I would pull out the corresponding fruit. Langston took a bite of the fruit while I explained that if we cared for this three-foot twig we had just planted, if we protected it from deer and disease, watered, fed and nurtured this little sapling, in a few years, we would have food like this for free that the tree would provide for helping it to survive.

     He appeared duly impressed.

     Several years later I cut down a number of pine and oak trees to let in more sun and expand the orchard. Now, on less than half an acre there are three apple trees, four peach trees, two pear trees, two plum trees, a hazelnut bush, an elderberry bush, four blueberry bushes, a cherry tree, a service berry bush, raspberry and boysenberry canes, and a fig tree.

     I was feeling guilty about the trees I had cut down and didn’t want to waste them. A neighbor has a small sawmill and the logs were transported to his place where he transformed the trees into five by eight beams, two by fours, four by fours, two by eights, one by tens, and so on. There was enough lumber to build a small building. I didn’t need a small building, but decided to build a timber frame garden shed for the orchard. I thought it would be cool to build a structure from the trees that once grew here to house the tools that would be used to care for the new trees we had planted.

     It was an idea that required a plan. Ideas are my thing, planning, not so much. Without a solid plan, ideas tend to take on a life of their own and in the processes own more and more of my time and money. No matter. As per my usual modus-operandi, the idea had no patience to wait for a plan and the simple garden shed turned into a two-story timber famed cabin that is now, far too special, to serve as a simple garden shed.

     As with most of the essays or stories I write, I only have an idea for the beginning, I rarely know how the story will end or where it will take me. Any good work of art, takes on a life of its own and more often than not leads the artist in new and exciting directions. Like the cabin and most every other adventure I’ve embarked on, I didn’t know where this was leading me.

     Many of my friends and family members quietly shook their heads while keeping comments to themselves as they helped lift heavy beams into place, frame walls and windows and watched helpless as plans changed on a daily basis. My youngest son who is an artist and musician, understands better than anyone else in our family how these things play out. The cabin, like the orchard, is a canvas on which I get to create a masterpiece. To some it may be as obscure and incomprehensible as a Jackson Pollock painting.

     They look at the odd rustic fence made from small dead trees and livestock mesh to keep the deer out and think; surely, he could come up with something better looking than this? But, like the cabin, materials were used that came from this piece of land. I like that. Even the idea of planting an orchard in the middle of the woods is not something a rational thinking person would consider, much less implement.

     Some of the stumps of the trees we cut down still produce green shoots that leaf out in the summer trying with everything they have to carry on and survive. This tells me that they are still using valuable nutrients in the soil that my fruit trees and bushes would find useful.  

      However, I know that what goes on under ground cannot be fully understood. The roots of the surrounding trees in the forest link together and form a symbiotic relationship with the fungal network known as mycelium. In this way, feeding each other nutrients the trees and fungi can’t produce on their own. Not only that but, they use these networks to communicate with one another. Mother trees or “Hub trees” feed their young saplings through this mycorrhizal network transferring their excess carbon and nitrogen to the young seedlings as well as other trees that may need assistance, offering them a better chance at survival. They can nurse sick neighbors or warn others of danger by sending electrical signals across this fungal network known as “The Wood Wide Web.” For reasons that as of now, are unknown, this network has kept stumps of trees alive for hundreds of years by feeding them a sugar solution through the root system. Perhaps our fruit trees can utilize this network as well.

     Notwithstanding the brilliance and magic of what happens underground, the cabin, stands firmly on the surface. It’s twelve feet wide by sixteen feet long. The upstairs, is a bedroom. It has ten windows on its four walls flooding the room with sunshine. The downstairs is of a post and beam construction reminding me of a miniature version of an old barn we had on our farm while living in Canada. An antique library desk made from pine sits in front of a huge five foot by six-foot window facing southwest. This is where I will paint pictures with words using canvases on a computer screen.

     A small dwelling in the woods, created from the trees of those woods. It has been named; “The Orchard House.”

     I have commissioned artists and artistic people I know to create something to be a part of The Orchard House.

     An artist from Syracuse, New York whose name is Gary Quirk created a very special piece. Commissions are not something he normally likes to do. He has a very unique way of making ceramic tiles, even creating his own glazes. I told him about the cabin, that crows and ravens have played a special part in our family’s life and that we lived in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Several months later he drove from Syracuse to The Woodlands of Ivor and hand delivered a piece of art that quite literally took our breath away. A large raven is perched in an ancient pine overlooking his vast range. His mate is coming in to land beside him, The Blue Ridge mountains are in the background lightly covered in mist under a bright blue Virginia sky. When I look at this raven, I can smell the chalkiness of his feathers and hear that raspy throaty voice we have become so familiar with.

     Gary and I had a mutual friend from high school who we loved. It was through our friend Jack that I was able to connect with Gary. Soon after we made our connection our friend died suddenly. Gary was mourning the loss of his dear friend when he created this tile. Because of that, I believe some of Jacks spirit and Gary’s love for his friend were incorporated into this lovely piece. Thank you, Gary.

     Our friend Terry Timmerman works with stained glass and fashioned a beautiful piece that hangs in the huge window in front of my writing desk. It looks like a native design that incorporates all the colors of the surrounding forest and sky.

     Another neighbor and skilled painter, painted an antique milk can with a rendition of our cabin surrounded by trees and the words “The Orchard House” painted above the cabin.

     A friend from Canada painted three crows in flight over a pine forest silhouetted against a fiery sunset on a piece of driftwood.

     Our friend Michael donated a painting of a pair of raccoons in winter, filled out with their thick winter coats, crossing a stream.

     Still, another friend is fashioning a grand front door for the entrance of the cabin. Also made from the trees that were taken from our woods.

     Other friends are in the process of creating works of art and crafts to be displayed and savored in this cozy place of retreat and peace. We envision a space surrounded by trees, gardens, and plants that feed us,  and nourish our bodies as well as our creative spirits. 

    Today has been cool and overcast. As I sit at the desk writing about this beautiful little cabin the sun has finally broken through the clouds and is pouring through the windows like honey. This is the inspiration I’ve been waiting for.