world I've chosen, landscape design and creation.” She engaged the students with eye contact and warm charm. “To start I’m going to give you two diametrically opposed ideas and then show how they’re actually woven very tightly together. I call it variety through consistence.”
Daveny paused there, giving the class time to consider the idea. She stood and lifted the top photo from the easel and turned it over. She adjusted the lapel of her dark blue blazer, which matched the slacks she wore. Professional, but not prim. So far the students responded, watching her intently.
“Point one: Variety.” She gestured toward the picture. It featured some lucky soul’s perfectly laid out and spacious backyard with a raised stone garden, sculpted shrubs that framed the edges of the ground floor windows, perfectly matched color schemes in the flowers and a thick, dark carpet of grass you could all but touch. “What does this say to you?”
Answers came fast from her audience: “Organized.” “Themed.” “Detailed.”
“Next,” she continued. “What about this?” She turned over photograph number two and set it into place. This photo revealed the rolling terrain of a golf course with wild, Scottish-style heather bushes and tufts of tallish scrub grass. Flaming orange day lilies, natural tree lines and a sparing use of organized and plotted annuals formed the features of this particular canvas.
Students replied: “Natural.” “Lush.” “Wild.”
“Great answers; and all of them are correct. Variety. Different settings, different textures, different requirements are needed for both. But it’s all held together by what?”
Silence followed, as did a few shrugs and puzzled looks.
Daveny smiled and Collin's heart reacted with an eager pounding.
“All of this variety is dependent upon the constant and never ending cycle of time. Years pass, seasons change one to the next. Time and the importance of each of its seasons moves through both of these environments. Frost comes in the fall, deadening the growth, winter covers the ground like a blanket, then spring brings it all to life again and summer bursts into fullness in the flowers that saturate these places with color and vitality.”
The deeper meaning of her words carried to Collin, hitting home in ways for which he was completely unprepared.
“Shoots uncoil into the soil, seeking and receiving nourishment. The plants grow, the blooms unfold in time to the cycle of creation. Consistency forms variety in a cycle that can't be rushed; it can't be bullied. Nature has to emerge and evolve. Sounds kind of like life as well, right?”
With that Daveny turned over the last photo on the easel, unveiling it at last.
The vibrant bend of a rainbow split the dark blue clouds of a sky just starting to welcome sunlight after the breaking of a storm. Dewy green grass rolled on and on in a meadow carpeted by wildflowers in a myriad of colors. A small lake, banked by field stones, pine trees and ferns completed the composition. In essence, it depicted the perfect blending of the organized versus the wild.
Meanwhile, Collin stood by, stunned. In words and visuals Daveny spoke directly to every wound and pierce mark in his heart. Evolution. Change. The passing of time and perception fulfilling life's needs despite outside influence and elements. Like death—and sorrow.
He felt grateful to remain in the corner, tucked away for the moment. Meanwhile, Daveny absolutely owned the classroom. The coup de gras? At the end of her presentation, she gave each student a laminated, trading card sized copy of her concluding photograph. When the student closest to him received her copy, Collin studied the piece, noting the phrase Daveny included on its plain white back:
A season and a time to every purpose under heaven.
By the time class ended, closing out school for the day, Collin's emotions were pulled taut, trembling in a form of suspense. The room slowly emptied of students.
Daveny paused there, giving the class time to consider the idea. She stood and lifted the top photo from the easel and turned it over. She adjusted the lapel of her dark blue blazer, which matched the slacks she wore. Professional, but not prim. So far the students responded, watching her intently.
“Point one: Variety.” She gestured toward the picture. It featured some lucky soul’s perfectly laid out and spacious backyard with a raised stone garden, sculpted shrubs that framed the edges of the ground floor windows, perfectly matched color schemes in the flowers and a thick, dark carpet of grass you could all but touch. “What does this say to you?”
Answers came fast from her audience: “Organized.” “Themed.” “Detailed.”
“Next,” she continued. “What about this?” She turned over photograph number two and set it into place. This photo revealed the rolling terrain of a golf course with wild, Scottish-style heather bushes and tufts of tallish scrub grass. Flaming orange day lilies, natural tree lines and a sparing use of organized and plotted annuals formed the features of this particular canvas.
Students replied: “Natural.” “Lush.” “Wild.”
“Great answers; and all of them are correct. Variety. Different settings, different textures, different requirements are needed for both. But it’s all held together by what?”
Silence followed, as did a few shrugs and puzzled looks.
Daveny smiled and Collin's heart reacted with an eager pounding.
“All of this variety is dependent upon the constant and never ending cycle of time. Years pass, seasons change one to the next. Time and the importance of each of its seasons moves through both of these environments. Frost comes in the fall, deadening the growth, winter covers the ground like a blanket, then spring brings it all to life again and summer bursts into fullness in the flowers that saturate these places with color and vitality.”
The deeper meaning of her words carried to Collin, hitting home in ways for which he was completely unprepared.
“Shoots uncoil into the soil, seeking and receiving nourishment. The plants grow, the blooms unfold in time to the cycle of creation. Consistency forms variety in a cycle that can't be rushed; it can't be bullied. Nature has to emerge and evolve. Sounds kind of like life as well, right?”
With that Daveny turned over the last photo on the easel, unveiling it at last.
The vibrant bend of a rainbow split the dark blue clouds of a sky just starting to welcome sunlight after the breaking of a storm. Dewy green grass rolled on and on in a meadow carpeted by wildflowers in a myriad of colors. A small lake, banked by field stones, pine trees and ferns completed the composition. In essence, it depicted the perfect blending of the organized versus the wild.
Meanwhile, Collin stood by, stunned. In words and visuals Daveny spoke directly to every wound and pierce mark in his heart. Evolution. Change. The passing of time and perception fulfilling life's needs despite outside influence and elements. Like death—and sorrow.
He felt grateful to remain in the corner, tucked away for the moment. Meanwhile, Daveny absolutely owned the classroom. The coup de gras? At the end of her presentation, she gave each student a laminated, trading card sized copy of her concluding photograph. When the student closest to him received her copy, Collin studied the piece, noting the phrase Daveny included on its plain white back:
A season and a time to every purpose under heaven.
By the time class ended, closing out school for the day, Collin's emotions were pulled taut, trembling in a form of suspense. The room slowly emptied of students.
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