Ode to the Garden

What is a garden?

In the most literal sense, a garden may be described as a physical space dedicated to growing various plants, vegetables, or flowers. Though accurate, I challenge us to ask ourselves, in a deeper and more humble sense, what it stands for. What does the act of setting aside this space really represent? Perhaps there is something more intimate about our relationship with gardens. Yes, they can be used to provide food or a sort of desired “aesthetic”, but let’s take a moment to appreciate the simplicity of these spaces and realize that there is more than what meets the eye. There is that which meets the spirit and the heart. 

Exploring Duke Gardens

Within the past month, I was lucky enough to explore two beautifully expansive gardens, the first of which was the Sarah P. Duke Gardens, located at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina. This 55-acre plot is inhabited by roughly 2,500 varieties of native and non-native species. The space is full of winding trails, bubbling fountains, and shady alcoves for students and visitors alike.

I originally visited the campus to attend a talk presented by my father, a graduate of Duke University School of Medicine. In the days leading up to his presentation, my family and I wandered the campus, which included the overwhelmingly vast area of the Duke Gardens. The space is separated into four main sections, each featuring its own historical and ecosystemic identity. For the next two days, I spent hours amongst Japanese maples, magnolias, and dawn redwoods. I sauntered along stone-laid paths adorned with giant snowdrops, hyacinths, and river oats. In many areas, the ground was coated in a decadent green blanket of sphagnum moss. I knew, through the loud tranquility carried in the breeze, that this was a place of peace. 

I passed by all sorts of people on these paths. Elderly couples, students, families, and visitors slowly meandering through the gardens just as I was. Runners flew along the trails as children nearby frolicked among the ferns. Anywhere I looked, people were conjuring up their own relationship with the natural space. Some were enjoying picnics, others were studying. A few meditated along the riverside as couples walked by holding hands. What couldn’t be found in the Duke Gardens was the cacophony of everyday life–– the grating buzz of technology, billboards begging for attention, or the pressure of the next task to be done. It was as if time was suspended on behalf of those who had made the pilgrimage there, seeking solace. 

El Jardins Mossèn Costa i Llobera 

When my trip to Durham came to a close, I hopped directly on a flight to Barcelona, Spain to visit my cousin. I had not yet visited Spain, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. 

Of course the food, art, music, and architecture were incredible. But I suppose what struck me most weren’t the intricately designed churches or the extensive collections of European paintings. It was the gardens. 

Without a car and with only a camera, I had one option: explore. I walked to Barceloneta Beach and watched the day unfold. Couples bathed in chilly morning sunlight while a man played fetch with his dog. Others scoured the sandy shore in search of seashells as a lively match of volleyball began nearby. A sensation of unified contentment, just as I had experienced back in North Carolina, wafted through the air. I kept walking. 

About thirty minutes later, I made it to my destination: El Jardins Mossèn Costa i Llobera. The gardens are named after Miquel Costa i Llobera, a Catalonian priest who contributed much to the area’s literature and culture. As I entered the space, there was an immediate and intentional shift, not only in the landscape, but in the behavior of those visiting as well. Voices softened and paces slowed. That familiar cadence of slow-stepping feet lulled me into a state of relaxation and calm. The path guided me through gravel-covered ground sprinkled with agave, gold-barrels, and saguaros. In cautious curiosity, I leaned forward to examine a prickly pear as it soaked up the sun’s rays. Upon further inspection, I could see that this succulent was thriving in its sanctuary. The pads were firm and plump with water, and its spines thick and sturdy – a reflection of diligent caretaking and dedication. A woman on a maintenance cart drove by humming quietly to herself. A father and son murmured in gentle conversation. Across the Atlantic, I had found another congregation of plants and people looking to connect in exactly the same ways. I had found another sacred space of green.

Cultivating Community

So, what is a garden? Maybe it isn’t simply an area designated to plants, or a vibrant array of potted flowers. Suppose for a moment, that it isn’t simply the space in the backyard that’s been gated-off in a desperate act to protect the beginnings of a carrot root. Maybe a garden is a sacred space, representing the very essence of what we are missing in our everyday lives — a steady sense of calm. And thus, when we intentionally carve out space — whether it be in our backyards or our busy lives — we give ourselves to those natural spaces in an honest gesture of gratitude and graciousness. And as we irrigate the soils and stabilize the roots, the garden, in turn, cultivates a community out of the individuals who invest in it.

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