Performance artist Jon Darc's movements unfold like nature's hidden gem, the Queen of the Night flower, serving as a powerful metaphor for emergence in inhospitable environments.
My mother first planted those same bulbs (or their parents) in her garden, which is half a mile from here, in the 1970s. When she died a decade ago, I took them first to our old house and now to this property. I'd actually forgotten the last transfer: a scoop of both the bulbs and surrounding soil, a short car journey, then a hasty reinterment in a hole on this south-facing slope.
Working bead by bead, the artist recreates delicate blossoms that echo the organic irregularities of real flowers while shimmering with the luminosity of glass. From airy wildflower stems to full, colorful bouquets, each arrangement captures the fleeting beauty of botanical forms that remain permanently in bloom.
To see where the moon melts over the garden,or where the bats flit, or where the air sweetens with pollen and moth-frenzy, I recommend a night walk to discern the perfect patch for it. Under this glow, we could all use a distraction-dig with a silver shovel and choose colors that swoon and moan under our satellite: dusty pinks, baby blue, lavender, white, and butter yellow gems unfurl at dusk until dawn.
Fortunately for me, roses happen to be edible. While technically the entire plant can be eaten, it's best to stick to the petals, buds and hips (as if I had to tell you not to chomp on their thorns and woody stems). Fresh or dried, rose petals can be used to make rosewater or rose syrup, as pretty garnishes for cakes, and to infuse into sweet treats such as ice-cream and panna cotta.