Layers of Concord

Layers of Concord

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As Carol George writes about the creation of her garden from a rough plot of neglected land in Virginia, she also details the years of study and planning from which her garden grew. Ms George draws on a variety of sources to shape her landscape: the French formalism of Le Nôtre and the court of Louis XIV,  Zen Buddhism, even the vivacious personalities of her small herd of sheep. The result is reflected in the thoughtful text as well as the exquisite photographs shot by noted photographer Eduardo Galliani which echo the quiet serenity that makes George's garden unique.

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'In this eloquent account of the melding of mind and place, Carole George bids us join her in her spiritual pilgrimage into that demanding, yet joyful and rewarding realm known as the art of the garden.'  From the introduction by Reuben M Rainey

Printed in an edition of 170 copies,  Layers of Concord is 13 1/2  by 10 inches. The 70 pages were set in Monotype Centaur by Neil Winter at the Whittington Press. It is illustrated with photographs by Eduardo Galliani and includes a full-page map and head-piece ornaments drawn by Abigail Rorer, after her visit to the garden. The edition is bound in green paper over boards and comes housed in a slipcase.

From the Prologue

The poet has instructed us to ask if the path before us has a heart. If it does, he says, the path is good; if not, the path has no use. But ask--is one to expect a signpost? 'Heart 1.5 miles' No, the path that will have use is already marked out along the line of a life. The guiding symbols (though few) are there, embedded in the years. Directing as they do onto the path that has a heart, such symbols do not make mistakes and they do not leave any way of escape. 
The story of finding the farm usually goes something like this. We had turned off the county road onto a little gravel lane. The ground was shot with sun coming down between the translucent green leaves of the tulip poplar that met overhead as in an arbour. All was calm and pastoral. According to the story, I announced 'This is it,' suggesting the decision to acquire the property was made at that point, before seeing the actual ground or buildings...

Turning in that warm summer afternoon onto a road that was nothing more than a rough track, I knew at once that I was on the threshold of a new life. I had arrived in a new land whose name I did not know, but that was intensely familiar. Perhaps everything of that visible world was no more that the tangible aspect of an inner world, and I recognized it.