In short, today was one of the greatest days of my life. Two in one year ~ as was April 19th ~ the day when Songs From the Garden was officially born. I turn 50 this year on Thanksgiving Day. I was also born on that holiday. Things happen in threes you know. Today my heart is so full of abundant gratitude. I will continue to exercise it and cause it to grow for I must make more room for abiding thankfulness before November 27.

The afternoon found us entering the Napa Valley which is when Kenny quietly said, “My wildest dream was still not big enough to hold this day.” Indeed, this had already been the vacation of a lifetime and yet, tomorrow had not even begun. We drove up to visit my shirttail relations, Priscilla and Francis who live in another sort of paradise, an open, inviting cabin on the side of a mountain with a room with a view, and a porch that calls your name. We also scored a used guitar, just in case, and our first taste of famous California vino.

The breadth of plant material that can live in Northern California is beyond imagination and reason! Flowers bloom, trees bloom, weeds bloom, rocks bloom. The public arboretum is a breathtaking fairyland for this horticultural neophyte. Window boxes are busting out all over and blooming  bouganvilla grows thick across nearly every threshold. San Francisco is infused with colorful, tropical delight. I know that we are no longer in Kansas.

On the way to the Giant’s game we scurried through famed Haight-Ashbury for some local color and strong coffee. Kenny loved seeing the new stadium and added a ball cap to his growing collection. I on the other hand I was near frostbit and happily paid the $15 cab fare back to the hotel at the end of the evening instead of negotiating the BART back across town. Mark Twain once said that the coldest winter he ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. True that.

Leaving out of Wichita Mid-Continental Airport happened without a hitch and connecting in Denver was miraculously effortless. As we arrived in SFO we were greeted by Kevin, the limo driver and a cavalcade of culture and climate. Kevin was holding a sign with my name on it as we came through the terminal. It was at this point I knew, for certain, that this was not going to be your run-of-the-mill vacation. (Kevin has driven Barry Bonds around town in the same limo in which we were now perched.)

Kenny immediately spotted the new Giants’ stadium and I was titillated at the thought of staying at Hotel Boheme, a quaint one-of-a kind relic of the beat poet generation. Alan Ginsberg used to hang out in the vicinity and the lobby was directly atop the Stella Bakery. Of course, I took his as a good omen.

After a cable car ride through Fisherman’s Wharf and clam chowder & sourdough bread at the fabled Fog City Diner we drug our shin-splints back up Columbus Avenue to gather our strength for Tuesday.

Then I realize that Ol’ Saint Nick has already revealed himself. Upon awakening this morning it’s as if a generous heap of beautifully wrapped gifts are patiently waiting under each of Bartlett Arboretum’s towering pines. For Santa arrived over and over during these past two weeks, reminding me daily of the undying affection this dear place holds for so many. I am rendered (nearly) speechless by the outpouring of loving kindness and support. Examples:

• The multitude of students, past, present, future (or their facebook pals) who created a “cyberspace group” of literally hundreds of teenage messengers to get out the vote
• Teachers, (my perennial favorite group) all educative and earnest in their love for this outdoor classroom who passed the word among area school districts
• Environmental activists who may or may not have actually walked these hallowed grounds recently but who know instinctively that this is an important instrument of peace and love and hope and goodness for future generations
• Family: my dad, looking a lot like John McCain these days, canvassing door-to-door, and getting Edmond, Oklahoma retirees reluctantly out of their Lazy Boys and on to their computers
• My own sis: rocking the vote via her college connections as a professor at MTSU in Murfreesboro, Tennessee
• WRUBEL ENTERTAINMENT! Cousin Lucy & her savvy gang in Big D
• My beloved Kentucky and the friendly folks at Howerton + White ~ sporting ol’ Bartlett’s amazing tech support ~ sending out reminders to vote daily when the numbers started to fall
• The Bartlett Genealogy Group had everyone in the whole dad gum country with that famous last name voting for our girl
• Folks from as far away as Viet Nam, United Kingdom, Afghanistan, Germany, Italy and Australia were in cahoots, probably due to the fact that my “adopted son” St. Sean McKee had the entire Air Force voting on our behalf
• All of our beloved neighbors in Bartlett Arboretum’s Belle Plaine backyard
• Radio stations B-98 FM (Brett, Tracy and Amazing Kathy)
• KZSN with Rockin’ Rick & Dancin’ Don
• KNSS with Marty Johnson and Good Life Guy Bowers
• And of course, that world-famous silver-tongue feller, Johnny Western of KFDI
• Crackerjack reporter, Josh Delaughter at The Belle Plaine News
• CBS affiliate Channel 12 with the lovely Rebecca Gannon
• Lauren White and Glenn Gibson, musicians extraordinaire, who traveled 1500 miles to play music from Songs from the Garden for our final weekend blitz

I am grateful to Michael Webb who was the first to inform us about this opportunity, to Connie Bonfy who creatively crafted the all-important 300 words, to Jaime Oppenheimer who has documented the good, the bad and the ugly over the years on her kodak to make a compelling case, and for the fabulous Jennifer Pettersen who is (frighteningly!) even more driven and effectual than I.

What is clear from the hundreds of correspondences I’ve read is this:

• Bartlett Arboretum plays hostess to thousands of timeless and treasured memories.
• She IS the tie that binds.
• The power of ONE is real.

At one point late on Friday I received a fascinating missive from New Mexico. The sender had actually been forwarded a plea asking her to vote for a different grant, not ours. Her eyes scanned the list of ten finalists and she was stunned to see her hometown in the running. This graduate of Belle Plaine High School had been saddened by the closing of Bartlett Arboretum and had not been back to visit in over 25 years. Well, you can imagine her elation when she learned of its renaissance and instead, sent her address book the link to vote for us, instead.

And that is why, even if we had not earned 30% of the market share, I believe that we would have still won. This morning, winning really has less to do with that $25,000 than I thought for I am more committed than ever to ensure that this historic property is restored, protected and preserved.

Know that I speak for Mary Bartlett Gourlay and the Bartlett family when I say we are honored, humbled and inspired by this extraordinary event. Your belief in me and in the mission of this near century-old museum moves me more than I could ever clearly express on a keyboard.

Abundant thanks,

Robin Macy
Steward
Bartlett Arboretum

I am up early because my brain is spinning with reverie and my heart is so full of gratitude that I could hardly sleep. Yesterday was the single most impressive and significant day at Bartlett Arboretum in my short 11 year stint here as her steward. Community Forester, Tim McDonnell organized a service day for the KAA (Kansas Arborist Association) and it was nothing short of phenomenal. Specifically a large troop of tree swingin’ nature lovin’ saw totin’ fellows, sporting orange vests and leather boots, plus a few impressive no-holds-barre women, showed up to give our ol’ gal a haircut. As Tim and I were preparing for the event late on Thursday, only 14 people had signed up in advance. When he phoned me yesterday morning to announce that nearly 90 had arrived, first at the John C. Pair Research Station in Derby, I could hear the enthusiasm mixed with anxiety in his voice. Panicked, I began calling every Soil Sister and family member I could think of. Rosalie Hatfield, Mary Oliver, Pam Gerber and my folks (who, as usual, jumped in the car to race north) came to the rescue. We served up BBQ at noon when the trucks began rolling in. I gave a short, extemporaneous speech about the historic property, introduced the Arb God Mother and Legacy, Mama G, and then she and I led an appreciative group on a tour. Many jaws were on the ground as most were making their first visit to the tree museum…folks from Leavenworth, Johnson County, Emporia, western Kansas ~ all over…identifying unusual/champion trees, measuring their girth, chatting with one another about how the arb is the “best kept secret” in Kansas…

What followed made me cry and rendered me (rarely) speechless. Two bucket trucks, two chipper/shredders, a stump grinder, 20+ climbers, and many other professional chain sawers on the ground made a huge impact on the mature forest. She is shining this morning.

Of course, the whole time all I could think about is “I wish McKee was here!” I met his double as a tall slender professional from Kansas City, wearing outdoor catalog clothing that only Sean would purchase strolled through the gate and proceeded to shout out orders to make the most of the talent and equipment available. Four of the arborists are still sleeping in their fancy tents on the Big Z this morning.

Tim had brought his big pull-behind-a-truck sized grill/cooker over the night before as well as an outdoor shower. Rosalie had had the foresight (as usual) to freeze the beans and chicken leftovers from the croquet event and Tim was able to buy more steaks for the evening meal. My musician friends rallied and we jammed in the Garaj Mahal (I was so tired I could barely strum the guitar) to christen the event a “super success.”

After over a year of macro gardening, Jenny Lou, reminding me of Tigger, kept jumping and cheering over and over….this is incredible! This is awesome! As the grappling truck schlepped entire unwanted trees out of the fence lines and climbers were in the tip top of 80 foot loblollys and vistas were rediscovered ~ the birds sang a symphony and the trains provided woof whistles to goad us onward. Best of all, satisfaction was in the face of every single contributor to the day’s event.

If ANYONE ever needs local tree service, please call my new best friend, Chuck at Alfred’s Superior Tree Service who donated the very most to the day’s event.

This is the yin to the yang of the flood season. Because of the dark days I have a backdrop of comparison. The mud and high water lines are only distant reminders this morning to “wake each day and seek deliberation.”

Gary Buettgenbach, venerable WCS art teacher and videographer, (who holds an entire cache of tens years of tape documenting the arb and my aging process!) captured the event on film and we will put some footage up on the Bartlett Arboretum website soon.

You are all very important to me and I wanted to share the good news while I had a brief moment and felt so compelled. Now to the sunscreen as I venture outdoors.

ever grateful,
R

p.s. yes, McKee. I got you some tee shirts.