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this weeks topic in theory is form meaning and expression in landscape architecture... also the title of an article written by landscape architect laurie olin. because this is a 'slippery' topic as described by our big brained and fantastic prof, we were first asked to think about home. describe it. in words, with drawings, however we could given the materials we had at our disposal that very moment. home could include anything.
home is not necessarily where you grew up. is not necessarily where you sleep at night... not necessarily a place at all.
what is 'home to you'? what does home mean to you? what, then, is meaning?
try to answer these questions...
I described home in words and images in 10 minutes as a place in the desert. my home away from home. an incredible peach orchard that we would drive by, nestled at the base of a Navajo sandstone wall, fed by the diverted waters of a creek. not too far from Capitol Reef. the walls of the canyon are red, and they shade the orchard in the late afternoon, cooling the fruit.
we used to stop there on our annual journey to lake powell... we would slip our dollar bills into the weathered wooden u-pick pay box, climb the ladders and pick the best peaches on earth, in the best orchard on earth, among the sagey sage, sweaty from the sun, barefoot.
I would eat my golden, perfect peach slowly, letting it drip down my arms, onto my feet, into the sand cherishing every bite. but only after I held it in my hands for a while, enjoying its shape, its fuzzy texture, sweet warm smell. I would smile at it, then take my first bite, calculating its size for the perfect mouthful.
sticky for the rest of the day...
this weeks topic in theory is form meaning and expression in landscape architecture... also the title of an article written by landscape architect laurie olin. because this is a 'slippery' topic as described by our big brained and fantastic prof, we were first asked to think about home. describe it. in words, with drawings, however we could given the materials we had at our disposal that very moment. home could include anything.
home is not necessarily where you grew up. is not necessarily where you sleep at night... not necessarily a place at all.
what is 'home to you'? what does home mean to you? what, then, is meaning?
try to answer these questions...
I described home in words and images in 10 minutes as a place in the desert. my home away from home. an incredible peach orchard that we would drive by, nestled at the base of a Navajo sandstone wall, fed by the diverted waters of a creek. not too far from Capitol Reef. the walls of the canyon are red, and they shade the orchard in the late afternoon, cooling the fruit.
we used to stop there on our annual journey to lake powell... we would slip our dollar bills into the weathered wooden u-pick pay box, climb the ladders and pick the best peaches on earth, in the best orchard on earth, among the sagey sage, sweaty from the sun, barefoot.
I would eat my golden, perfect peach slowly, letting it drip down my arms, onto my feet, into the sand cherishing every bite. but only after I held it in my hands for a while, enjoying its shape, its fuzzy texture, sweet warm smell. I would smile at it, then take my first bite, calculating its size for the perfect mouthful.
sticky for the rest of the day...
posted by humble bee at 2:40 PM
3 Comments:
As soon as you combined orchard with Navajo sandstone, I knew this place exactly. Waterpocket monocline, pockets in the sandstone, Factory Butte, snowcapped Henrys not too far away, Mancos shale badlands scarred by ATVs, Hanksville, Boulder Mountain, blue Egyptian monuments, towering spring thunderstorms chasing hail eastward ... and in the middle of it all an orchard so green as to knock the desert-hardened senses askew. I felt drunk on the green.
And of course I was thinking the apples in the orchard, which makes the allegory a bit different.
oh, peaches still warm from being on the tree in the sun...
divine.
how much of the taste of the warm peaches is magnified because the fruits themselves reflect the richness and subtlety of color in that particular terroir?
she asks in her jetlagged state.
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