Imperfection

Today I offer you a scrapbook meditation on imperfection not only as inevitable but also as appealing and valuable. And for habitués, you won’t be surprised by my mind meandering into the humbling wonders of wabi-sabi.

The imperfect moments shape us as much as the sunny ones.

(Source: Frosty Ferrying into Rosslyn)

With May showers flirting, sunny moments shimmer in relief. But this point-counterpoint is simply natures not-so-subtle reminder to balance perfection and imperfection with humility and wonder. Both are omnipresent. And both enrich our lives.

I remember a recent exchange with Pam and Tony about some of the cedar grown, harvested, milled into lumber, dried, and finished for the privacy fence. Here is a much excerpted distillation.

How do we approach a board with so much character? — Tony Foster

[…]

Might be awfully neat to incorporate that into a table or bench top with a couple of inlaid bowties! — Geo Davis

[…]

I love the imperfections. A table would be perfect and beautiful. — Pam Murphy

(Source: Perfect Imperfection)

Ah, yes, the perfection of imperfection. And, sometimes the beauty of imperfection.

It’s the imperfections of a place that make it perfect. — Tiho Dimitrov

(Source: What Makes a House a Home?)

Indeed.

Home is a place that is perfect for its imperfections. That appeals to my wabi-sabi sensibility, and to my peculiar sense of humor that is tickled by an architect, a designer, a construction project manager willing to accept, indeed to embrace, imperfection. (Source: Thank You, Tiho!)

We’ve wandered into wabi-sabi, the realm of perfect imperfection.

Wabi-sabi (侘寂) is a world view centered on the acceptance of transience and imperfection. The aesthetic is sometimes described as one of appreciating beauty that is “imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete” in nature. (Source: Wikipedia)

The dilemma then is to discern errors that need to be resolved from imperfections that enhance an object, an environment, an experience.

I find myself absolutely fascinated with the inevitable lifecycle of human artifacts. And I am almost always in favor of celebrating the imperfection and patina of longevity rather than masking the passage of time with inauthentic, ersatz makeovers. (Source: Preservation by Neglect)

Imperfection resulting from time’s patient-but-persistent march is especially compelling.

Patina. Rust. Wear-and-tear. The… visible reminders of imperfection and impermanence. And yet beauty brims… [They] exude warmth and comfort and reassurance… The bumps and bruises… are part of this… story…

[…]

Wabi-sabi is at the root of my attraction to time-worn buildings and artifacts. I consider aging utility buildings — barns, boathouses, ice houses, sugarshacks, etc. — to be at least as intriguing as old houses. More sometimes. So many relics, unselfconscious, candid. Less penchant for concealing, fewer makeovers, more concurrently present years and lives. Sometimes it’s the old, banged up subjects and objects that look the best. (Source: Horse Stall Haiku)

And this scrapbook sojourn into previous pensées on imperfection delivers me to the doorstep of two recent hiccups.

Seeds in Lieu of Bulbs

Over the last several weeks, I’ve been sourcing a wide variety of perennial seeds, bulbs, roots, rhizomes, and plants for the flowerbeds bordering the west and north slopes of the icehouse’s sunken courtyard.

In a digital dance spanning geographies, time zones, and degrees of familiarity, Teddi, Pam, Glen, and I have been collaborating via Trello to transform unplanted spring beds (in the middle of a still-evolving worksite) into horticultural artwork that will appreciate season after season. No problem, right?

Teddi Rogers will be back on site to help advance the planting of many exciting perennials, bulbs, and my favorite… poppies!

Thank you,… Teddi, for bringing your creative and disciplined practice to the avalanche of ornamentals arriving day after day. I can’t wait to see your progress over the next couple of weeks! (Source: Icehouse Hardscape Update)

And then this little back-and-forth.

We have received 125 lily seeds, but I don’t see those mentioned on the “to receive” list… — Teddi

Not the update I was expecting.

Did you mean seeds? Or maybe bulbs/roots/rhizomes? Hopefully the latter. You should see them listed from two different providers in the checklist.

If for some reason we wind up with seeds, hopefully we know which of the two sellers we received them from? Definitely did not intend to try planting lilies from seed… — Geo

Pam saw the exchange and confirmed that they are seeds. Hhhmmm… A mistake? That told them that I would reach out to the seller. 

I’ll follow up, but in the meantime, we might as well try planting them. Looks like we could be waiting 18 months or more for them to do anything though! Here’s an article that might be of interest:

https://www.lilies.org/culture/growing-from-seed/

— Geo

They came with germination instructions which at a quick glance look time consuming and not all that promising. If we’re counting on lilies maybe we should make other arrangements. — Teddi

Then came the update. Mea culpa time.

Turns out, it was my mistake. I didn’t read the auction listing carefully enough. Bummer. — Geo

The good news: I also ordered 100 Casablanca Oriental Lily bulbs, so hopefully those will materialize soon and offset my sloppy slip-up.

So, long story short? I screwed up!

Lily seeds instead of lily bulbs. Imperfection of the not-so-perfect strain. But not really the end of the world either.

Boathouse Blunder

On Tuesday I was startled to discover that an electrical switch had been cut into the oiled fir paneling inside the boathouse. A standard toggle switch with a white plastic switch plate. All of the others are Decora switches with natural brass plates.

And there’s an even more significant problem than the obvious style inconsistency. There isn’t supposed to be a light switch.

Ostensibly added to “pull power for the replacement LED lighting” in the lakeside staircase and gangway, that appears to have been an unnecessary solution to a nonexistent problem. The power for all of the lights in question already existed elsewhere. These are replacement lights identical to the preexisting lights. Same locations, same electrical supply, same switching, etc. The replacement LEDs were supposed to operate off of a solar switch with an exterior switch that is wired near the top of the staircase.

In other words, something somewhere along the line of communication broke down. Is it the end of the world? No. But for various reasons, it is inconsistent with what I expected and wanted. It’s fair to say I’m too detail oriented/attentive. Perhaps anal retentive. But cutting in an outlet to a pristine wood surface that can’t be undone is a big step. A big misstep. Is the electrician to blame? Is the project manager to blame? Am I to blame? Probably all of us.

Details matter. To me, they matter a whole heck of a lot. But in this case, details didn’t turn out as planned. Missteps slipped into the mix. An error that can’t easily be reversed must be accepted, adapted to, integrated into the whole. Part of the story. Imperfection.

Details *DO* matter. But being detail oriented, attentive to details, even anal retentive isn’t a guarantee. Nor does this imperfection spoil the plot. It adds a little spice. A memory. A dip among peaks in the storyline. But we will be changing it out to a Decora switch and a brass plate!