Happy Halloween from 'Monster Park'

In the spirit of Halloween, I wanted to share my visit to one of the most magical gardens I have ever seen, the Sacro Bosco or Sacred Wood.  Adding to the spell of the Sacro Bosco was how hard it was to find. 

While on my way to Viterbo, Italy, I couldn’t get my GPS to recognize either the name or the address for this garden.  This had happened to me several times in Italy, so I was mildly amused, confident that my hotel would help me with directions.  After all, I had chosen my hotel because it was close to the garden.  

My amusement turned to concern when the hotel staff had never heard of Sacro Bosco.  One by one, each tried to figure out where I was trying to go, finally agreeing with my GPS that no such garden existed in the area.  They were quite sure of themselves.  At one point, with the entire staff gathered at the front desk, they reached a consensus that I had the wrong town.  

In a last ditch effort, I recalled that I had packed a wrinkled black and white photo of the garden.   It was buried in my suitcase, but when I showed it to the staff one exclaimed, “Oh! That’s the ‘Monster Park’, why didn’t you say that from the start!” 

Emboldened by a huge sense of relief, and with my camera in tow, I drove the short distance to the garden.   The sign in the photograph of the sphinx proclaims, “He who does not visit this place with raised eyebrows and tight lips will fail to admire the wonders of the world.”  Beyond the sphinx, heavily wooded paths lead to the head of Orcus, god of the underworld, who is surrounded by sea monsters and figures from another world.

Stay tuned for more about this garden in the next post.

 

Autumn light

I recently gave a talk on garden photography where we discussed the poetry of light:  How the seasons affect light, light before dusk, early morning light, and fog-diffused light. 

This discussion reminded me of a recent visit to Chiswick House in London.  I decided to get up extra early in order to experience the garden in the autumn morning light.  Taking into account the hour and a half travel time from central London, this meant waking up at 5:30am.

William Kent was the landscape designer behind the garden that we see today at Chiswick.  He was one of the first to move from the formal to the picturesque in Europe.

Not normally a problem, but when my alarm went off, my jet lag was at full force.  Thoughts of “where am I”, “how did I get here” cleared enough so that I could pull myself out of bed.  I could tell that a thick fog had rolled in overnight, so I was driven by the anticipation of seeing the garden under this special condition.  Each step felt like I was moving through mud in slow motion.  What was I thinking!  My entire body craved sleep.  Even the floor of the train looked like an appealing spot to lie down.  The slightest bit of light was too bright.

On the final 25 minute walk the soft early morning light was quickly dissipating – the fog was lifting.  As my jet lag passed, I began to worry that I might be too late.  I should have gotten up earlier.  All this effort wasted!

Then I entered the northern Rustic House Gate.  Like a personal favor from the universe, the garden had held on to its own pocket of fog.  The light was amazing.  Light diffused by the fog was punctuated with sharp oranges and whites where sunlight came through.  Radiating shafts of light shot out from behind trees.  The garden was silent because the neighborhood was just waking up.  Families were going through their morning routines as I had 2 hours earlier.

The Cherry Orchard, the Italian garden, and the approach to the House reveal the original formal style and ornamentation of the garden.  The Lake, created in 1737, gives the illusion of a slow moving river and is a key design element of the garden’s picturesque plan: innovative at the time.  Chiswick is considered the birthplace of the landscape movement.

The lawn slopes down to the man-made river.  This "new" feature added in the early 1700's when the garden was redone in the landscape style.

“Originally created by Lord Burlington and William Kent in 1729, the garden was inspired by the sights of the Grand Tour and romance of classical Italian landscape painting; it was conceived as a single, living artwork.  Burlington and Kent replaced the formality of the existing renaissance garden with a freer, more luscious design. Straight lines were out, curves and clusters in. ‘Natural’ spaces were created, their informality highlighted by the careful addition of sculpture and other architectural details including an Ionic temple and Doric column.  The lawn that slopes gently downwards from Chiswick House to the artificial river was also introduced, a revolutionary feature in its day.” (source: www.chgt.org.uk)

Autumn is a great time for garden watching, especially in the early morning fog.

Happy garden watching!

 

The garden at Chiswick was designed as a "single, living artwork."  

Chiswick House gardens are open daily from 7am until dusk

Chiswick House Elevation.  Source: GreatBuildings.com

Family reunion

The world famous Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew are full of picturesque sections: Woodland Glade, Japanese Gateway, Rhododendrun Dell.  After walking through these, it is a surprise to stumble into the area called the “Plant Family Beds.”  Tall brick walls are punctuated by a few openings.  Inside the garden feels private and isolated, like another world.  It is laid out to maximize cultivated areas with mown grass aisles to provide access to these areas.

A plaque in the garden explains what plant names tell us.

Designers usually put great effort into combining form, texture, and color into create cohesive visual compositions.  But plants in this garden are arranged based on their evolutionary relationship to each other - so that many plants from the same “family” can be experienced together.   Like a family reunion for plants!  For botanists this arrangement provides a living library to further research.  For everyday plant lovers it provides a chance to see plants at their full potential, to notice similarities and differences across members of the same family.  To me it also opens a window into the history of the study of plants; it brings to mind the golden age of botany; and it teaches us about the evolution of our planet.

In the 1700’s scientists realized the need to develop an informative and universal classification system.  Because plant names varied by region, it was critical to ensure consistency so that research could reliably be shared across borders.  In the mid 1700’s, scientist Carolus Linnaeus promoted a system based on the way plants reproduced.  Names were based on the number and location of stamens and pistils.  In the late 1700’s, French botanist Antoine Laurent de Jussieu made improvements by using additional plant characteristics.  Today, advances in DNA analysis give us even better information regarding a plant’s evolutionary origin.

William Hooker, the first director of the Royal Botanic Garden at Kew and the designer of the Plant Family Beds. Source: Encyclopedia Britannica

William Hooker, first director of Kew, designed the Plant Family Beds in 1846 using the work of Antoine Laurent. In 1869, the layout was updated to reflect further developments.  The gardens have continued to evolve and have been updated using the latest DNA-based learnings.  Today there are over 100 beds and 90 plant families.  It is easy to get lost in this living library: to enjoy each specimen and to experience new variations.

At one end sits a wonderful bronze statue, a tribute to all gardeners.  The spectacular rose arbor that cuts through the middle of the space was installed in 1959 to celebrate the garden’s anniversary.  Because the roses have been selected for the quantity and duration of their bloom, it is hard to describe the sensual overload of being surrounded by their scent and color.  

I am not sure that I will be arranging plants in my garden based on their scientific grouping, but I probably spent most of my time at Kew exploring this garden.  It is both beautiful and informative: a living library that celebrates the diversity that can occur even in the same family; a product of centuries of accumulated knowledge; and a reminder of the longer evolutionary arc on which we all travel.

 

Garden map circa 1870.

Close-up of garden as seen from above.  Source: Kew Garden Map detail.