|Photo of Reservation 232 taken in 1927 (photo courtesy of Historical Society of Washington)|
Gardening for me is mostly a solitary activity. But the last few months, I’ve been sharing my watering, weeding, and transplanting with my ten-month old.
It gives my wife a few moments of peace, and it is a pleasant distraction for Jude, who would otherwise be tugging on an electric cord or grubbing dust balls from underneath the refrigerator. Jude is fascinated with the ornery mockingbirds (“dta” while pointing), the cloud of bees over our perennials, and the raisiny fruit on our Serviceberry tree. He often notices something that I do not. Yesterday, he leaned over to grab the seed clusters of our Kousa Dogwood. They had budded into these gorgeous emerald orbs. “Huh,” I thought. “That’s cool.”
|Image by Fred Jeranes|
To see the garden with my son changes the way I experience it. The filter through which I see the garden is dislocated, and I not only see the garden in a new way, but see my son as well. I get these glimpses into his precious mind, experiencing the world all fresh and new.
Moments like these make me think about other gardeners. If I feel most like myself—most grounded—while I wander through my garden, then I want to know other gardeners as they are in their gardens. How do they see their gardens differently than I do? What do they care for and love?
Several months ago, I was contacted by a woman who is working with a group to create a memorial garden for Kim Brenegar. Kim was a garden designer who lived and practiced in the Capitol Hill neighborhood in Washington, D.C. Kim died at the age of 49 in a tragic car accident. Although I never knew Kim personally, her presence was everywhere in the neighborhood. Friends of mine were her clients, and they raved about her. Kim was passionate and colorful gardener and designer. I only knew people who knew Kim, but her enthusiasm was infectious. Her loss was not just for those who loved her, but the entire neighborhood and gardening community in Washington, D.C.
The Friends of Kim Brenegar have proposed a most fitting memorial. Together with the D.C. Department of Parks and Recreation, the Friends group will redesign, restore, and maintain a garden called Kim’s garden on the site of a National Park Service Reservation at the intersection of 8th Street SE and Independence Avenue that Kim volunteered her time to maintain.
This garden will be an ideal tribute to Kim. What I love most about this project is not just the physical space—the garden—dedicated as a memorial, but that volunteers and friends will remember Kim through the act of gardening. It’s not so much the place that is connected to her memory, but the activity of caring for the garden as Kim did.
We are what we love. To connect with another, we must love what they loved, care for what they cared for, and cultivate what they cultivated. In doing so, we get a glimpse of the heart.
To read more about Kim’s Garden, click here.
Thomas, this is beautifully written. On behalf of Friends of Kim Brenegar, thank you for so much. JulietReplyDelete
What I like about this sort of memorial, Thomas, is that it celebrates a local community, not a national/political agenda. What better way to remember the person, and to continue their work, rather than see it fade away.ReplyDelete
Fred Jeranes Image is so beautiful.ReplyDelete
Really garden has many memories. so nice of you that you share with us.
small garden design
I love the juxtaposition in this post -- the garden as seen a new through the eyes of a new human being and the garden as living memorial. -JeanReplyDelete
Really nicely written piece - and I agree with Jean about the juxtaposition.ReplyDelete
Two lovely lives connected through gardening. Very moving. I wrote about my family connections to gardening this past week. We can learn and know so many things early from our family. Thank you for sharing these two lovely stories of two amazing lives.ReplyDelete
I love the juxtaposition in this post -- the garden as seen a new through the eyes of a new human being and the garden as living memorial.ReplyDelete
Your post reminded me of a beautifully designed book, DEREK JARMAN'S GARDEN. Written by the late Derek Jarman, a painter, theater designer and filmmaker, who chose to locate his garden facing a nuclear power station in Dungeness, Kent, England. This book is a record of how Jarman's garden evolved from 1986 to the last year of his life and was a memorial to an artist who made something beautiful in the most inhospitable of places.ReplyDelete
Your last paragraph is very true. If it wasn't for gardening, I'd not have gained entry to my mother's past and some parts of my family, to secrets, dark ones, that shed light on who I am and how I am--the link I can trace, and the ability to see and heal myself through the garden, as my mom has done. This was the topic for an unpublished memoir of mine, and still haunts later books I've worked on.ReplyDelete
Great Post! such a nice blog. ThanksReplyDelete
Great Post! This blog is ever amazing. Thanks