A Walk in the Park
I want to tell you a story of two garden explorers who went out on an overcast January day in search of some flowers. But before the explorers met, supplies needed to be gathered as one never knows what will be called for during an afternoon away. The square rucksack was filled with the last two shortbread mince pies, a thermos filled with tea, and not just any old thermos, but the trusted Stanley which used to make teapots in Cambridge rooms and on various picnics since; a camera for documenting, a notebook for observations, and a new book all about the inspirations of Regent’s Park. Some almonds may have come along for the ride as well. The explorer in question dressed in her favorite double decker bus socks, white button up shirt, forest green chore jacket, which is the ideal jacket for all adventuring as it has oh so many pockets, leather Oxford shoes, and trusted wide brimmed gardening hat. No gardening has been done yet, but it makes for an excellent cover against the sun. When all of the supplies appeared to be in place, she went out to her trusted yellow bug and drove off to collect the other explorer, who too had prepared for the exploration. She wore a flower printed dress and filled her pack with watercolors and a book for philosophizing.
Neither had been to the gardens in the winter and weren’t sure what to expect. Their seasons of visits tended to correspond with the rose garden at the height of its bloom. They thought the roses would surely have been pruned by now and it seemed too early in the season for the trees to begin budding. This winter had seen less rain than previous years so concerns were raised about whether or not there would be enough moisture for the flowers. With two years of superblooms behind us, it was unclear if another year of extraordinary blooms lied ahead. Little did our explorers know at the time but the blooms they were about to witness were indeed extraordinary, and served a helpful reminder that all blooms are spectacular, whether on their own or in a group. The colors they were to find popped against all the shades of green of leaves and grasses.
As they walked through the entrance, and the new membership card was activated, they set off toward the fields. The grey sky overhead would slowly change throughout the day to feature blue patches and white clouds before fading back into a uniform grey that seemed to suggest a chance of rain that never delivered. The temperature was a steady cool that allowed the jackets to remain in place though a few buttons would be undone as the temperature shifted. With a map in hand, more for comfort than out of necessity, the explorers took off in the direction of the rose garden. The rose garden had new surprises in store. While half of the bushes had been deadheaded for the winter, there were still plenty of roses in bloom in shades of white, pink, and deep purples, spread across the garden and beneath the trellises. Some roses had dropped their petals to the ground and others were withering while still on the vine. The smell was heavenly. So much better than any perfume or rose scented item that attempts to capture the fragrance. One of our explorers has always found it interesting how each rose can have a different fragrance and yet the smell is undeniably that of rose.
Dear reader, I would like to ask you to close your eyes and imagine this world. The way the paved pathway feels beneath your feet. The sun is starting to peak through. It feels warm on your upturned face as you look up to watch as the sun once again takes shelter behind the clouds. A light breeze pulls the strands of your hair this way and that, as the new leaves of a nearby tree sways. The tree has a circular bench that reaches 360 degrees around its trunk, beneath its wide branches. Just far enough from the path so you feel somewhat secluded. It would be the perfect place to stop and sit. To think through your thoughts or what you might want for lunch, or to sit and read that book that you grabbed on your way out the door and have been hoping to find the time to read. Though the time never seems to present itself.
Just past the tree is the library filled with books from generations past, with yellow pages and thick leather bindings. Countless other editions line shelves out of site, waiting for researchers to come and visit.
Are those honeysuckles that you smell? Or the honeyed pages of old books?
The path bends and an open field stands before you now as white statues line the borders. Trees and flowers are planted around each statue which appear to be modeled after the Muses. A few birds have taken up residence on the head of a nearby statue. She doesn’t look thrilled by this development but can’t find the words to tell them to shoo. There’s a fountain at the far end of the field. You imagine the sound of falling water even though it’s too far to know for sure if it’s running.
That’s when you spot a group of men and women walking ahead of you. They’re dressed in Regency outfits. The women in long dresses made from elaborate fabrics, wrapped in shawls, and bonnets of various colors, and the men all in tailcoats and top hats. Images of a Jane Austen novel pop into your head. They appear to have stepped through a time portal and landed square in the middle of the garden, perhaps discussing the lingering glances that were caught at the last ball or where they’ll go for an afternoon tea. Maybe the rose garden’s cafe for a three-tiered meal of tiny sandwiches and champagne. They’ll make their way around the garden and be spotted entering the library and art museum, and later taking in the various offerings at the gift shop.
As you open your eyes, you might think you’ve been transported to another time. And as your eyes adjust, you’ll begin to see people in modern clothes again and might even wonder if the Regency figures were there at all. Birds are chirping outside wherever you are currently sat. A breeze is blowing through the window with the perfume of flowers from the bushes you were moments ago so close to you were able to lightly touch the petals as you walked by. They were soft and delicate, like the fur behind a cat’s ear. You can still feel the grass beneath your feet and the warmth of the sun on your face.
Our explorers made a very exciting discovery. Snowdrops were in bloom, as were the daffodils.
One of our explorers had heard stories of this delicate flower that grows in the winter and is the first sign that spring is on the horizon. It breaks through the cold ground to bloom. To see these flowers in Southern California brought forward a tremendous joy, as she wasn’t sure she would ever see these flowers in person. Snowdrops were spotted again near the citrus fields (which was another exciting discovery of the day). There the flowers gathered beneath a leafy tree with their petals to the ground, as if whispering secrets only their fellow plants could hear.
Then there were the daffodils. Last March, daffodils with the brightest yellow center and white petals were spotted in New York along road medians, Upper West Side sidewalks, and Central Park banks, as the end of winter gave way to lovely spring weather where lighter jackets began to emerge along the sidewalks. The flower brought forth images of east coast springs and days growing longer, but these were some of the first she had seen in California; another surprise as to what flowers were capable of growing here. The paler colored daffodils are a particular favorite, and looking back at the photographs, it was a lovely surprise to see the tiny red spider lingering on the petals, which had not been noticed in the moment.
Behind the rose garden, bright pink magnolias were spotted that drew the attention of our explorers. The most amazing part of it all was to learn that the buds of the magnolia tree are fuzzy. The ombre colors of the petals were just emerging from their fuzzy homes, except for a few blooms that were already in full view, perched along their small, knobby branches that wrap around the trunk. It seemed too early in the season for such blooms, though the more the explorers considered the thought, their thoughts turned to the weather and how although the season was winter by name, it was actually the temperature of spring. At least from the standpoint of the plants.
Further along, nestled behind the grey and white walls of the Chinese garden, cherry blossoms bloomed in shades of pale pink and white. Their petals formed confetti along the stone walkways and grasses. A gush of wind could sweep the petal confetti into the air, making an everyday moment into something spectacular.
The Chinese garden feels hidden from view. The Japanese garden with its bamboo forest and bonsai garden is located directly behind the rose garden, and remains a favorite walk for our explorers as the pathway is filled with shades of green, the color of the blooming flowers, and the brown of its wooden structures: the bridge across the koi pond and the historic Japanese house. The Chinese garden by contrast is filled with neutral shades, as the garden is constructed primarily from stone. The garden is also known as “The Garden of Flowering Fragrance.” Think of that for a moment. A garden of flowering fragrance. The cherry blossoms were the primary fragrance our explorers were drawn to, mostly by color over scent but once in close range, the fragrance was just as stunning as the petals. It was at this point that hunger began to take over and food was calling. Our explorers decided to go for noodles and dumplings at the noodle bar, where they ate servings of mono potato dumplings, chicken-chive dumplings in broth, cumin-beef noodles, and a seafood bowl with rice and greens. To eat, they sat next to the water which winds its way through the garden and were filled with a sense of calm. With bellies now full, they were off again to see what else there was to see.
Reader, did you know that the Huntingdon Gardens, where we find our explorers, is home to a citrus grove? Neither did our explorers until one caught site of what looked to be an orange tree. Now they were in for quite a treat as they walked toward this tree, which turned out to be an entire grove filled with a variety of orange, lemon, and grapefruit trees. Valencia oranges, blood oranges, meyer lemons. Lemons the size of a grapefruit, and so many other varieties that the explorers wished they could pick fruit from the trees and take home a sample. Though of course this was against park rules so they stayed on the path and attempted to will the oranges to fall from the trees and roll to their waiting feet. None of the oranges obeyed the call. They got close enough to smell the citrus and to see that the oranges which had fallen to the ground had already been sampled by critters. A bunny dashed from one tree to the next. Could the bunny have been the one biting the oranges or was it another creature they had yet to see?
This leads us to the end of our walk. Our explorers wound their way through the Australian forest and past trees that looked to have eyes and bodies like large turnips. To the desert forest where the cacti and palm trees were showing off their vibrant colors as the sun was coming out once again. The cacti were not quite ready to bloom but a few were starting to show off their fruit. But be careful, dear reader, for even the fruit have tiny needles that will pierce your skin if you attempt to grab it. Even though it looks rather tempting. No matter how friendly a cactus may appear, it can still prickle so do approach with caution.
The day ended with a brief sit in the main field, across from the library, where the tea was drunk and the mince pies were eaten. They picked a spot far from the path so they felt closer to nature than the other people wandering. It was during this time that the Regency walkers reappeared in couples and our explorers once again wondered where they were going, and how many had they seen that day. Shoes were kicked off and books were taken out of backpacks, though not much reading was done as they instead thought about what it sometimes feels like to be a human in this world. They talked about how pleasant is was to have a picnic outside, as they had done many times before, and to feel the grass beneath their feet. They admired the trees that sat behind them.
Then the time came when the tea was drunk and the mince pies were nothing but crumbs, and they were growing ready to head home after a busy day of exploring and walking. Our explorers assembled their things. Shoes were retied. The blanket they had been sitting on moments ago was rerolled and placed back into the backpack, alongside the watercolors and mug. Once the straps were tightened and they stood ready once more, our explorers took off toward the entrance and back once more to the road that would take them home. But not before a trip to the gift shop and talk about traveling over to the nearby bookstore.
A brief note of credit to say that the two greenery pictures of me walking through the garden (the first and last pictures) were taken by Nadine Meena, who was my fellow explorer, and documents her travels over on her instagram.
