The Garden as Metaphor
Few institutions are as deeply embedded in the human conscience as the garden. The home, the family, the church and school all hold their central place, of course, but none exceeds the garden in its multiplicity of allusions. Here is a sampling:
The garden as paradise: First the big bang, then chaos. Virtually every cosmology envisages order emerging out of anarchy and most every religion finds a special place for it: a mythical paradise, almost always in the form of a garden. In the Western tradition there is Eden, in Buddhism there is Shambhala, an oasis of wisdom and peace hidden somewhere behind the Himalayas.
Buddhist pilgrims sought to find Shambhala, just as some early European explorers went in search of Eden. Cartographers of the period actually placed Paradise on their maps, usually in some remote corner of Africa or the Indian ocean. The more cautious embraced it in the map’s ornate border.
The garden as sanctuary:: Gardens are universally regarded as a place of quiet repose, a tranquil harbor removed from the anxieties of work and home or the noise and turmoil of traffic and street. One need not be overly spiritual to view the loveliest of them as blessed with a touch of divine grace.
The garden as recreation: The eminent British art historian and museum director, Sir Roy Strong, was once asked what was the most rewarding thing he had done in his life. His reply: “To have made a garden”. Many in this country would agree. Gardening is an exceedingly popular leisure activity. It is no coincidence that the word “garden” is as often used as a verb as a noun.
Gardening’s popularity is not hard to fathom. Digging, weeding, mowing, planting – all are healthy physical activities. But there is also a more elementary though equally impelling urge: reconnecting with the earth and prompting it to produce to one’s satisfaction.
The garden as museum: For centuries avid botanists have been gathering and exhibiting rare species found in exotic places. Such exhibits are stimulating, educational and important. Whether in grand public parks, in greenhouses or private hideaways, they are treasures illustrating the vast range and variety of the earth’s plant species.
The garden as food: Is anything more delicious than lettuce cut from the vegetable garden and carried straight to the table? Or ripe tomatoes? Or sorrel for soup? Or plums and peaches ripened in the orchard? Dwellers in cement-clad cities understandably crave this sort of fresh produce, which doubtless explains the popularity of urban communal gardens.
The garden as status: Unlike large houses, expensive cars, or other material items emblematic of prestige, a fine garden requires age and painstaking development. In that, it bears similarity to a good wine, but while wine can be stored in a cellar and forgotten, a garden demands constant and loving attention.
Mature gardens, adorned with great trees and ancient, manicured shrubbery, have traditionally been associated with stability and status, because no shortcut is available at arriving there. Of course, this does not mean that fashions do not change. Nurseries are constantly marketing new species and portraying particular flowers and colors as modern, trendy, and desirable.
The garden as art: Garden aesthetics naturally reflect the cultural history of the nation from which they sprang. French and Italian gardens feature formal arrangements, geometric patterns, topiary forms, central axes and statuary. The English garden, though sharing some of these characteristics, tends to incorporate them into a more natural setting. The classic Japanese garden utilizes space and form in an effort to distill and perfect nature. American gardens borrow from all these traditions.
Gardens are alive. Wherever located, they are bound by the cooperation of weather, soil and season. But they are also works of art, open to human creativity and imagination. It is on these features, and as works of art, that they are properly judged and cherished.