When I look at a garden — any garden — I find myself looking at it from two perspectives.
The first, of course, is a celebration of the plants and colors and textures and combinations — much like in my previous post on Morikami Museum and Japanese Gardens, in Delray Beach, Florida.
An example of cloud pruning, in which trees are trained to resemble clouds.
The second perspective has me looking at the nuts and bolts — or in the case of Morikami, the bamboo and twine — of gardening. Through careful pruning and the bending and training of branches, gardening at Morikami is as much a tribute to nature as it is to the dedicated hands of the gardeners.
Bamboo is used as a support to train a branch to be more horizontal.
As I strolled along the paths and bonsai pavilion of this sub-tropical Japanese garden, looking at how something was growing rather than what was growing, I had to think of the gardeners’ hands that have worked in this garden since its opening in 1977.
The covered path.
Bamboo poles and twine help to create the arch.
The arch in training.
One of the many bonsai specimens.
Bamboo, as you might imagine, plays a large role at Morikami — not only as a plant whose stalks click and clack against one another in the wind, but also as tools to help the gardeners create their visions.
This is the Shishi Odoshi, or “Deer Chaser.” Water pours from the upper bamboo into the lower bamboo, which, when filled with water, swings down and strikes a rock below. The water pours out, the lower bamboo swings upward, and the process starts again.
Bamboo fencing.
Using harvested bamboo to support growing bamboo.
How lovely to be an old bamboo stalk at Morikami, to still be useful and valued. It reminds me of the Ray Bradbury quote at the start of Part I, an philosophy that we should all leave something behind when we die, such as a painting or a garden.
It seems only fitting, then, that I should close my Morikami field trip with another quote, this one from Sarah Kay, the poet.
“Some people read palms to tell your future, but I read hands to tell your past. Each scar makes a story worth telling. Each callused palm, each cracked knuckle is a missed punch or years in a factory.”
The scars on a living bamboo stalk, telling the story of who was here.
They are also indicative of time in a garden — of planting and weeding, pruning and staking, growing and creating. The gardeners of Morikami — and gardeners everywhere, for that matter — have those stories in their hands.
Love this place, we always try to visit when we are in Delray. Great place for lunch after a pretty walk
Hi Patty. I agree! 🙂
That quote resonates so. Hooray for field trips!
Hi PD. I agree — it’s a good thing to get out from behind the garden gate and see what spectacular inspiration can be found in the world. 🙂
I think that’s such an interesting thing to say ‘How lovely to be an old bamboo stalk at Morikami’ …And as well as interesting thoughts you have given me practical inspiration for all those bamboo poles sitting idly in my shed
Hi Lilith. I always keep some old bamboo handy. Whenever neighbors do some thinning of their clumps, I’m there to take a few stalks. They come in handy and do a fine job. I hope we all have the chance to be an old bamboo stalk: useful, strong, and needed. 🙂