drawing inspiration from the garden masters of Japan
On a brisk autumn morning at Ryoan-ji, my mom and I strode along the wide gravel path speckled with late morning shadows streaming through the canopy, and all the while, consumed by the resounding crunch of the crushed rock under each footstep. As the path transitioned into a formal approach towards the Buddhist temple, I began to hear rustling from the flanking gardens. The sounds became distinct and we could make out the layered chorus of well oiled clippers, rakes dancing through the mossy mounds, and old wooden ladders creaking in their angled positions on the ancient trees. From amidst the backdrop of the green tapestry, the silhouettes of craftsmen became animated and the true lifeblood of the garden was in full display. There was an ease to the gardener’s movements and a thoughtfulness in every edit evoking the knowledge and stewardship passed down through generations. Every tool had been hand tailored and every task was customized to the unique quality of each living element. There was an exquisite harmony between the cultivators and the cultivated, an exemplary symbiotic relationship. A relationship I had learned about in landscape history class years ago but could never fully grasp until I stumbled upon this mossy grove. That day we went on to experience the iconic and most captivating dry garden, and an incredible pollarded Cryptomeria grove, but nothing could eclipse those simple moments felt amongst the gardeners.
After returning from our long anticipated garden tour of Japan, I had a difficult time articulating our experience to interested family and friends. I tried to relay the expected grandiose descriptions of some delicious meals or more touristy outings, but it felt contrived and incomplete. My ruminations throughout the travels and arriving back into the states kept running back to those quiet moments with the Ryoan-ji gardeners. Their effortless grace, their craft exercised at every move, and their caring manner in which they tended to every sculpted branch and moss depression echoed in my thoughts. Even with the overwhelming visual feast that I took in throughout Japan, it was always the subtle examples of collective care and integrity that made the most resonant impressions. All these little parts— these individual acts— come together to create an environment of calm and a moment of rest for our active minds. I hope to bring these lessons to the forefront in my work designing landscapes, cultivating gardens and tending to its evolution in the years to come. To remember the compassionate stewardship of many little hands coming together in the garden, and in these moments, to be reminded of and nourish our tender humanity.
This transformative trip marked the celebration of my mom’s 70th. She raised me as the garden aficionado I am become today and out of all the magical places in the world, she wanted to experience the gardens of Kyoto together. During our 10 day tour throughout Kyoto (with a couple days spent in transit through Tokyo), we visited over 20 gardens! While we would have a difficult time deciphering a ‘favorite’ amongst all these exquisite places, both my mom and I kept daydreaming about the first garden we visited in Kyoto: Kodai-ji. Nestled into historic Higashiyama neighborhood at the base of Higashiyama Ryozen Mountains; the Zen Temple, teahouse and gardens came to life in early 17th century. It is home to a dry garden, pond, bamboo grove, multiple temples and moss gardens.
Another memorable day included a very active entrance via river boat into Arashiyama, where we visited the Somekobo Yumesayai studio, the ever popular Bamboo Forest, Sogenchi Pond Garden, and Tenryu-ji Temple.
I hope these stories remind some of you of your own garden adventures, possibly bring some beauty into your day, or simply inspire to you take a pause and appreciate the hands at work in the garden.
Cheers,
alana
