Katherine Day Part 7

A print and illustration by Katherine Day

Part 7

Katherine Day - The Artist's Own Enchanted Garden

     "The rest of the colours should all be selected at the same time, so that you can choose those which harmonize, and not have to go in at some time to get, say, a soft green you knew was there, and come out with a paddy green. Those brilliant shades should be bought in as small quantities as you can get." (Katherine Day from her unpublished manuscript on the design and creation of hooked rugs).
     I have been so generously partnered on this afternoon's motor trip, by both Mozart on the car's radio, and the picturesque scenery of this easterly area of Oro-Medonte. I must not omit, of course, the companionship of my partner and research assistant, Suzanne, who adores the trip out to Egos Market on these autumn Sundays. The Horseshoe Valley Road offers some amazing pastoral scenery, and we make many stops on these casual weekend outings, where there is no obligation to stick to a schedule, or a predetermined anything. We stop when we feel the urge, and travel when we find ourselves being tugged by forces unknown; to motor-on to yet another concession line, or interesting dirt roadway in Oro-Medonte we haven't travelled previously. We want to experience the region made famous by writer Kenneth Wells, who wrote "The Owl Pen" series of books. Most particularly today, we wish to immerse ourselves fully in the countryside that inspired Canadian Artist, Katherine Day, from the late 1930's, at her homestead known as Hawthornes, and then at Pax Cottage; the larger abode, she had built a short distance away after the Second World War.
     There is an autumn sky today, so profoundly alluring, in its cool, deep blue, that it lifts one free of these earthly bounds, to soar without need for wings, feeding the impulse of free will, and unfettered imagination. It is what must have been a peak of creativity for the artist, looking out over the smokey hills and valleys of this remarkable topography, adorned by the quilting together of rich autumn colors of hardwood leaves, bright evergreen and still hardy field grasses wavering in the breeze. This was a Katherine Day scene unfolding, and we were celebrating every moment of the experience.
     We resume our story, as taken from the handwritten journal kept by Katherine Day, in the early 1940's, composed at Hawthornes, dealing with the state of her gardens, both planted and naturally growing around her homestead. As an artist, she drew heavily from the colors of nature, as witnessed in the garden she kept at both her residences. She adored wildflowers as much as the annuals planted for their vivid colorations, which were woven together as if it was a painting from her own hand.
     "June 12 / 41 - Flowers blooming together. The early bulb families are all harmonious in colour; the Narcissus family, Jonquil, Daffodil, so beautiful. The Snowdrops, Pella, and Star of Bethlehem, and the Lilacs, Snowball plant, and the wide variety of perennials, Spirea and Periwinkle, that raise their heads each year on this modest piece of land. Later the Tulips and Hyacinths trailing their blooms. Then the Iris is still in bloom, and then come the Columbines, Nepeta, Day Lily, Lemon Lily, pastel. In an array of blue like Lilac, light yellow, dark, blue and rose. Make a note to adjust the colour scheme while the flowers are in bloom. So I should later move that dark blue double Columbine to the shady side of the Lemon Lily, for it loves the shade. To place another blue Columbine beside the Yellow Rocket and the Rose Columbine, would be best beside the "Lilac Honesty."
     "The bright red Oriental Poppy needs a clear bright colour beside it, so it is not far from the Lemon Lily, and the Delphinium will overlap it and follow it in bloom. The Sweet William is coming out and it is in a border around the east side of the house, and behind it comes Phlox and Delphinium, and a stray Hollyhock. Hepeta is a mauve-blue, and the California Poppies, which seed themselves, from year to year, are now in bloom and look very gay beside the border of Nepeta. Annual Larkspur has also seeded itself and will soon be blooming among the Yellow Poppies. Zinnias are sown each spring from seed gathered in the autumn, where they are to bloom, and the hardy Aster, a single purple with a yellow eye, comes along with the Yellow Marigolds, so that the season ends up in a blaze of colour. As the Poppies die they are followed out and the seed scatters in the bed for the next year. The Peonies are also a long blooming flower with both early bloomers and later bloomers. They must not be moved after they are planted, so that it seems necessary to think out a garden plan which includes them, and then to plant the garden around them. They really bloom until the third year.
     "It is possible to keep a garden to one colour scheme throughout the season, but on the whole, the season seems to start with yellow and white, going on to a frenzy of colours with the Tulips, from which you can take your choice of blending pastel shades as clear bright tones. Then to an almost unlimited choice of perennials, which again can be divided into brilliance or softness of colours, and lastly the autumn flowers with rich brilliance. For any garden, it is a mistake to plant brilliant reds and yellows, and the purple Lilacs together. They visually shriek at each other. If they must both be blooming in the same garden, at the same time, separate them with a clear white and a clear blue variety of flower. This is the art. Finely blending colours. A clump of white Nicotine will blend the scarlet Zinnias and the Purple Asters. And so will the blue of the Delphinium blend the scarlet of the Oriental Poppy; the yellows and orange of the Lily and the lilac color of the Rocket. But it needs a good mass of white and blue to complete the scene.
     "But on the whole, in a small garden, it is a mistake to expect harmony of colour, if you want bright, vivid scarlets, reds and yellows together with soft, dim shades, commonly called pastels. You have neither one thing nor the other, certainly in harmony. It is possible to group together almost every sort of flower if you search for the right shade of colour. If you want to have Petunias, and also desire lichens with their scarlet flowers, get a White Petunia or a Clea's dark blue. Certainly not rose colored normally, or the lilac shades, or you may come to dislike passing that corner of the garden because of the way it appears. All blues will go well together. So will all yellows. But not all reds work together. Reds shade to yellow on the one hand and blue on the other hand; and you can use yellow with scarlet and bright reds and blues, with the rose colored, pink and purplish shades. If by any unlucky circumstance, a scarlet and a rose colour are so near at hand, that from a glance from one to the other, they cause visual dismay, plant a species with white flowers, in between them, rather than anything blue. The white separates them at once. The blue then seems to unite them with this white border.
     "And as for shunting the garden about, so as to harmonize a colour scheme, any rainy day will do. Even when they are in full bloom, if you work on a rainy day, take plenty of earth with the flowers, and deal with one problem at a time; no harm comes to most perennials in this fashion. They must be soaked well, with water, before and after the operation of transplanting. Then, if the day remains dull all will be well. I usually choose the spot where the newcomer is to live, dig the necessary size of hole, and water it before transplanting. Then I will attend it with a garden fork, and bring it from its original location to the new site, which as a process is over in less than a minute; and it is thus moved and established for good."
     The artist / gardener writes in her journal, that as of June 18th, the plant species that were blooming included, "Oriental Poppy, scarlet, Peony-rose (dark), Jacob's Ladder, white, Sweet William (coming), white, pink, rose Nepeta, soft blue, (inclined to be mauve), California Poppy, yellow, orange and cream Aguileqia, double rose, white, blue - singles of yellow, mauve, pink, and white. Iris, all colours (finishing), Lemon Lily, light yellow, Viola, all colours of blue, purple, white, yellow (finishing), Lilac, rosey."
     "June 18th, 1941 - One of the motley chicks ventured outside the chicken yard through a hole they had conveniently widened in the fence. He was pecking around happily when the cream coloured kitten, Chippy, spied him as he dashed around swinging on the Hollyhocks and Iris. There was a frantic yell from the chickens, as Chips leaped upon him. With that, the whole family sprang to life. I shouted and ran at Chips, who sped for safety under the Gooseberry bushes. Coonie fled to the house. Brian (the dog) dashed at Chips, and took off with the chick in his own mouth, Chips and I persevering. Under my nasty threats Brian dropped the chicken which dived shrieking for the safety of the yard. But on the way Chips leaped again upon his victim, and the general hubbub began again. By the time I reached Chips this time, he was fighting mad and rolling his eyes and scratching; the chicken yelling at the top of his lungs. I pried open Chips' mouth and removed a very frightened little bird with a bad gash on his neck. Chips, as a consolation, seized a feather in passing and pulled it out; and I left the kitten growling furiously with only this portion of his prey to devour. The chicken, at first, seemed well, and as I let it down, it fled immediately for its own idea of safety which was to its mother, who was clucking nervously back and forth along the fence. I then and there patched up the hole in the fence that caused this event, but no doubt there are other holes yet to find.
     "That was a narrow escape. I started out with nine only, out of a possible 27. Then Coonie (the cat) snatched the biggest white one and was carrying it to Chips, for delightful consumption, when I found it and reprimanded her loudly. Brian caught the next one, which I could have rescued in time, if I had understood the meaning of the chicken shrieks; for the poor little creature was still living minutes later, when I went to investigate what Brian had in his mouth. He was scolded and gently smacked, and he crawled into his basket to be out of the way, but nothing I could do would bring the chicken back. It gave two or three convulsive jerks of its head, opened surprised eyes for a moment, and then passed-on. It was duly buried deeply under the Black Currant bush, where to date, two weeks later, it has apparently remain undisturbed. I had heard of someone who tied a deceased chicken around the neck of the culprit dog, who had killed it in the farm yard. That particular dog was so humiliated that he never looked at a chicken again. Thinking that this course of action might be successful in curing Brian, I tied another dead chick around my dog's neck with a tirade of harsh words. Brian rolled his eyes back at me with incredulous disbelief in them. He then tried to crawl off on his stomach out of sight, feigning horror at his state. But the speed with which he made off was so suspicious that I followed to watch him. He had rolled over on his back and was doing a few gymnastics, kicking up his short back leg, and trying to establish a balance which would keep the chicken close to his mouth. The expression now in his eyes, was that he could hardly believe his good luck. After the few additional harsh remarks, the missus, me, gave up admonishing a dog for being a dog. At that point the chicken experiment seemed to be failing. The attached deceased bird was unfortunately not inspiring the kind of shame it was supposed to, when it was tied to his neck. In a position of course, that would not allow the dog to ignore its presence, hanging awkwardly below. He had positioned himself such, on his back, that the hind end of the chicken, for the moment, was actually positioned conveniently in his mouth. When I came home later, thus seeing the failure of my experiment, I changed my opinion on the matter. As this reproach to Brian was evidently unsuccessful, it was however, an opportunity and event that did have a positive twist of fate. He has left chickens alone since then. Pretty hard for a bird-dog, and no doubt he will break out again some time, into what comes naturally.
     "He also likes mice, but definitely not moles. His frantic digging along the windbreak of the young Honeysuckles, brought him a mouse once, and he proudly played with it until it died, no doubt, of sheer exhaustion. And then he buried it. Coonie (the cat) brings home mice, and he (the dog) steals them away from her some times (when opportunity presents itself). Then he instead, enjoys the cat's catch for dinner. Coonie utters a plaintive wail as she sees her mouse disappear, and goes sadly back into the house. She brought a mole home, just as we were going out in the car, and Brian fetched it along, without us knowing about the event. He put it beside him on the ledge at the back, and as it was a mole and quite unappetizing to him, as a meal, he left it there to decay. In the dark of the garage, in the car, it was for ages, left unperceived. And again when we went out, Brian had leapt into his place on the back-seat, and the mole wasn't visible to the naked eye. I had some sacks with me, and as we went along the road, I kept thinking that the fishbone in the hen's laying mash (they use fishbone in hens laying mash) then, by the aroma, had been previously mixed much too strong. Then I left the questionable sacks at the mill to be filled, but when I left I also carried away the smell. That was pretty bad, but the source of the aroma was nowhere to be spotted, while Brian rested on the spot where the dead rodent was situated. When I came back to the car with a parcel, Brian had transferred himself to the floor where it was cooler, and the source of the smell lay open and exposed. A very ancient dead mole was clearly visible, and I took it by the tail and threw it outside. It went out in one piece but behind it, left a squirming cluster of green maggots, big and little, and many, many of them. I gathered them up in a paper napkin, quickly as I could, and there after the remnants of mole were finally gone from the car. An unpleasant sight but one that left a lesson behind it, reminding me to always trust instincts, and trace those little smells that soon can become overwhelming. Get the source of contamination and all is well." As Katherine Day wrote in her journal, about the virtues of calm resolve in matters like this: "Patience and perseverance, made a Bishop his Reverence."
     Please join us again tomorrow for a resumption of this biography, Part 8, according to the handwritten journal kept in the 1940's by Katherine Day, of Hawthornes, in the region of Oro-Medonte, Ontario.