When it comes to life-altering experiences (of the positive kind) have a theory that there are two kinds of people. One group finds these experiences are enriched through sharing them, talking about them with as many people as possible. The second group feels the experience is diminished a little every time you speak of it. What was once magical and otherworldly becomes commonplace when you try to tell others about it.
I think I belong to the second group.
Oh sure I am more than happy to share my garden related experiences here. Usually, by doing so, they become even better. I lived them, and then I lived them again by editing the photos and writing about it and sharing it with you. But on December 24th, 2015, I experienced an extraordinary garden and there is no way I can adequately share it through words and photos, trying to do so just comes up short – it looks like just another garden visit. Of course that won't stop me from trying! I just wish I could take you all there, so you could experience the remote location, the smells, the sounds, the awe of amazing specimens around you, everywhere you look.
Long intro, getting longer.
It was Christmas eve and as I mentioned in
this post I'd kind of given up on the idea I'd be able to visit the Taft Garden. I'd read about
Denise's visit on her blog (she touches a bit on the history of the garden, if you're curious). I'd spoken with Jo at
Australian Native Plants about it. But this is a private garden with a complicated history, few get to visit and I hadn't exactly planned ahead. However a little Christmas magic was in the air and I received a call with directions and still had time enough to visit before we took off to meet family in another city.
The drive to the garden was beautiful but a little concerning – as in I was pretty sure I was going to get lost. I ended up missing a turn and coming to the end of the road, which was someone's front yard. There were so many Agaves I thought for a minute I must be at the garden, I mean no homeowner would plant that many Agaves? No I don't have any photos, I hightailed it out of there as fast as I could, visiting this garden is somewhat of a hush hush affair and I didn't want to disturb the neighbors.
There was one other car in the parking area when I arrived, I passed them leaving as I was entering. It was official – I was alone in paradise. This added to the experience immensely.
What had I done to end up in this magical place on Christmas Eve? It was a gift indeed.
I wandered on a crazy path of my own making, bouncing back and forth from interesting plant to interesting plant.
And unlike at
The Huntington there was nothing coming between me and the plants. Sure there were paths in some places but in others they just disappeared. There was nothing saying "stay over there" so I didn't. I got up close and personal...
The air was quiet, so very quiet. Except that it wasn't. There was no human noise, but nature was loud all around me. Honestly I have no idea what it was that I was hearing (besides the birds), had I let it my imagination run I'd have been sure there were lions and tigers and bears following me around the garden.
So I've covered the isolation, the sounds...but the smells! So many scents all mingling together under the warm California sun! Oh and of course, the plants. Oh the plants...
There were a few labels here and there but mostly not. I was okay with that, it felt like the right way to experience this garden, to just wander and absorb the beauty.
I do know this is an Aloe dichotoma...
So beautiful...
Looking dead mostly, but still extraordinary.
Agh!
Banksia Men! Those mouths...
Banksia baxteri, I believe.
And Banksia serrata...
I had no idea about the trunk, I felt a bit of repulsion.
Adenanthos sericeus, tree sized!
Please come back tomorrow for
Part 2, where I discover I was not alone...
All material © 2009-2016 by Loree Bohl for
danger garden. Unauthorized reproduction prohibited and just plain rude.
