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A New Way of Looking
Over the years I have attended many churches. Some of them have routinely had flowers on the altar, or somewhere in the sanctuary. Understandably, the flowers usually followed the horticultural year with bulbs like daffodils, and of course, lilies in the spring, a whole array of perennial flowers through the summer and ending possibly with dahlias and mums in the fall. Fall could also bring arrangements of the fruits of the field in harvest arrangements.
All of these amazingly varied and beautiful arrangements are a visible sign of the wonders God hath wrought.
At the Federated Church in Charlemont I have always appreciated the altar flowers, and the talents of those who have put them there. I especially admired Charlotte Thwing who did the flowers for several years, coming up with some stunning and unusual arrangements. As a young woman Charlotte went to New York to work for the celebrated British florist Constance Spry.
Spry was celebrated for her unique arrangements and did the flowers for highly publicized events like the wedding of the Duke of Windsor and Wallis Simpson. One of the events Charlotte worked on was the coming out party of the famous debutante, Brenda Frazier. She once described to me her job – to take the large magnolia leaves and strip them so that only the veins were left to be gilded.
Though Charlotte is gone now, she remains an inspiration to those who followed. Clare Pearson who has more recently been responsible for the altar flowers (and vegetables from time to time) once put together a breathtaking arrangement of flowering apple branches and spring flowers that thrilled the congregation for two Sundays with its depiction of the unfolding of spring and burgeoning energy of the earth.
I confess that flower arranging has never been among my skills although I have occasionally been able to donate a big bouquet of peonies. Putting those spectacular blossoms in a vase requires no talent all.
However, I volunteered to provide the flowers (and I used the word very loosely) for the past two Sundays. .
Because I had no flowers left in my garden and because rain and wind had done a good job of denuding many trees the week before October 27, I found that I paid new attention to the roadside trees as I drove to work and on my errands. I noted where there were oak saplings with particularly rich burnished leaves, and golden beeches whose leaves were bordered with brown. Right near our house was a maple sapling that had hung on to its brilliant leaves, still all in shades of gold and orange and red.
On Saturday sprays of deep red and brown oak leaves went into a large brown pitcher, and brilliant sprays of maple and beech leaves into another pitcher for the altar. No talent required to let the beauty of God’s creation shine forth, even at this time of the year.
More wind took away more leaves, and so for this past Sunday I thought my theme would be No Leaves. Mindful that the liturgical year has periods of fasting and feasting, of preparation and celebration, of death and renewal, I thought I would come closer to that period of death and waiting. I collected fuzzy red sumac ‘flowers’, and twiggy leafless branches of crabapple and viburnam with their tiny dark red apples and berries.
This arrangement was far from spectacular, nothing like a flaming bouquet of maple leaves, and in the end I cannot claim that it was worthy of much admiration, but I can tell you what making the arrangement did for me.
It made me pay attention. It made me pay attention to the details.
I love our landscape. I love driving on 8A next to a stream on my way to Route 2. I love driving along the river. I think I am fortunate to live in such a beautiful place. I don’t exactly take all this beauty for granted, but I don’t attend closely enough to appreciate the details.
I am not known for paying attention to detail. I’m a big picture person. (Just ask my husband who is left with figuring out the details of all my big projects.) In the summer this doesn’t matter much. The beauty of the fields, of fully leafed out trees, of the sparkling river as I drive down Route 2 and the vast expanses of sky and cloud, all these can be noted and appreciated in their entirety, not in their specifics.
I am grateful that I had the task of making an altar arrangement because I looked around me with new eyes. I hadn’t noticed that we have so many oak trees in our area, much less how different is the texture of the sturdy brown leaves from those of the delicate flaming maple leaves. I marveled at the tenacious curled leaves of the beech, dried and brown, still holding on in spite of wind and rain. I laughed with surprise at the velvetiness of the sumac stems.
I’m grateful that it doesn’t always take some cataclysmic event to change my point of view, to shock me into a new awareness, to wake me up to the endless variety of form and beauty around me. Sometimes all I need to do is take my turn at some community responsibility. Thank God!
November 10, 2007