Today I took down the remains of The Orchard Room with help from my husband and daughter. It took the three of us 45 minutes to take down what had taken six people 8 hours to put up. But that’s the way it always goes with these things.

Endings are a time for reflection. The time is fitting, coming as the leaves are falling and compacting into a wet mulch around the bases of the orchard trees.

On my first visit to the orchard the trees were in bloom and white petals floated down to the damp grass. When we installed the grass was covered with drifts of tiny daisies and little hard fruits were beginning to grow. The fruits swelled with the seasons as the ribbons faded in the strong Summer sun. During the harvest season we talked of art and sang songs of love. In October we lit our lamps, shared hot cider and wended our way out of the orchard together, carrying our lights with us.

Vida with the last ribbon

This installation gave me a sense of rootedness in the seasons, with this specific patch of land between four trees, and with my family and community. My intention was to create a place for people to meet and share experiences. By defining a room with trees as walls and the sky as a roof, we placed ourselves in nature and in time.

There were some disappointments along the way, there always are, but it was deep for me. My hope is that it had meaning for others as well. It definitely created a time and place in memory for my family. My girls are growing up. They will be finding their own lives and paths away from us soon. They already are.

Today we saw the salmon fighting their way up the stream in their last effort to lay eggs for the next generation. They struggle so hard, battered by their journey, on their way to their deaths. People cheer as a big male makes it over an obstacle, commiserate as he slips down again to rest, and then to try again.

Rest and regeneration. Life and death. Flowers to fruit to fallen leaves. In the ending is the beginning. As we headed back to our car I found myself thinking about next year. Would I apply again to make art at Carkeek Park? Perhaps.

But first, the quiet of the Winter must come to the orchard, where the trees will sleep, dreaming of the sun’s return.