I was going to write my final blog post on our trip to Nine
Mile Run, but I felt that would have cheated my spot of one last opportunity to
talk. So in these first glowing days of
spring, I paid a visit to the garden. My
black sweater absorbed the growing heat as I stood on the path to observe. The lawn itself was a bit too muddy from the
morning rain to venture over in flip-flops, but this mud is more hopeful than
the mess I experienced in winter. The
ground seems brighter and the plants are waking up. And here, in the sludgy lawn, I find the
discarded thoughts of this garden’s history from weeks ago. So I suppose the blog will end were so many
stories begin: with history.
The neighboring academic hall, Buhl, underwent a series of
renovations and additions a number of years ago. Before the college developed any more ideas
of taking over what little green space was left between Buhl and Welker, the
late Dr. Roxanne Fisher and colleagues claimed the land with roots. They brought in left over’s from home—plants
and herbs and shrubs—until they declared the area as the Rachel Carson Garden.
This title has led to some surprising confusion over the
years. As I mentioned much earlier this
semester, after four years at Chatham I only recently became aware of this hidden
garden. The first time I heard about the
Rachel Carson Garden the information came in the form of an urban legend:
A number of years ago, a man and
his wife traveled all the way from London just to have a chance to experience
the great Rachel Carson Garden. After
some hesitated directions by confused students, the couple descended upon the
struggled garden. Unfortunately, the
small garden and its scattered planting quickly disappointed the couple. They took their anger straight to whoever on
campus would listen and demanded something be done. And from there the University put forth more
effort to build the garden to live up to the traveler’s excitement.
Coming from the land of Weird New Jersey, I understand the
rooted truth urban legends grab on to.
Sometimes the ghost boy throws your friend’s quarter back over dead
man’s curve—and sometimes you throw a completely different quarter at your
friends back and watch them run screaming to the car. Sometimes phantom headlights follow you down
the eight miles of streetlight-less pavement associated with Clinton Road—and
sometimes teenager wait in the woods with their car’s off for a lone car to
come barreling along only to follow that car with their lights off for minutes
before suddenly FLASH phantom headlights
and FLASH gone again.
As far as the Rachel Carson Garden goes, there were
travelers—not from London, but still from far enough away—angered by the time
wasted on the patchy garden. However, it
was not their anger completely that fueled the further development of the
garden but rather the generous senior gift of the Class of 2011.
Still, the intent was not just to plant will-nilly. Money was not the only factor. Time and input were needed to construct an
aesthetic and sustainable planting plan.
And, after a few semesters’ studies by the landscape architecture
program, planting can continue.
Each section of the garden is tended with a different
purpose: pollinator; edible; perfume; rain.
The end hope is a garden that not only produces but teaches as
well. The process is slow—a little in
the fall, a little during Buckets and Blossoms this spring—but it’s
continual.
So this may be my final visit in terms of blogs, but I know
these aren’t my last moments in the garden.
Soon enough dirt will embed my nails as I tuck eager plants into their
new homes.
