Anderson Japanese Gardens

andersongardens.org · American English

Experience the peace and tranquility of Anderson Japanese Gardens, a stunning outdoor oasis located in Rockford, IL.

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Behind the Scenes
May 2, 2019 · original
The AJG Horticultural Team has been working for several weeks preparing the Garden for the 2019 season. Maintaining the shape and scale of the trees is critical for presenting the highest quality Japanese gardens. Greg Afman, Maintenance Supervisor and Project Manager for Kurisu International, explains the time-intensive process of maintaining AJG’s collection of finely pruned pines. The post Behind the Scenes appeared first on Anderson Japanese Gardens .
Beauty Walk
Mar 16, 2019 · original
Snow was thick on the ground and on the branches of the trees when I last visited the gardens. It was a Sunday, and I had gone to church that morning. The pastor spoke about the concept of a “beauty walk”—that is, taking walk out in the world with the sole purpose of noticing and appreciating beauty. One can take a beauty walk on the streets of a city or the trails of a forest preserve or the paths of a garden or even the hallways of an office building. Beauty is everywhere, in everything. I took my own beauty walk through the snowy Anderson Gardens that day, and wrote this small poem afterwards. The light gradually faded outside the large windows as I sat there, writing, thinking; the outlines of the pine trees grew dim, the patterns in the gravel less distinct; the whites and greens and blues of the world drained to grays and blacks. When I left, I followed the deep tracks in the snow
In the Guest House (pt 2)
Jan 8, 2019 · original
Here is the second part of a poem I wrote while staying in the Guest House in December. It was the weekend we had that heavy evening fog, followed by a beautiful morning frost. I have been invited for another Guest House retreat, so stay tuned for more writing inspired by the house and the gardens coming soon. Happy New Year to all! In the Guest House (pt 2) In an atmosphere of rest It is easy to rest In a place of reflection It is easy to reflect In a place of chaos, or violence distraction or fear anger or anxiety It is easy to become: Chaotic, violent, distracted or fearful; angry or anxious— We must strive to build places— homes schools offices parks cafes grocery stores gardens— That are: peaceful, beautiful, loving, compassionate, joyful, thoughtful, tranquil, or exciting, elegant, rejuvenating… But in times and places that are not so we must strive to remember to be peaceful, to b
In the Guest House (pt 1)
Dec 20, 2018 · original
The weekend before last, I had the honor and pleasure of staying two nights in the Guest House, in the center of the gardens. I did a lot of reading and writing, sitting and thinking; admiring the gardens; and soaking in the tub. Monday morning I woke up to a frosty wonderland, and took the above picture. This poem is a piece of what I wrote during my stay. I hope you enjoy. In the Guest House (pt 1) To sleep and to wake in an atmosphere of such tranquility and elegance, simple and clean— My bare feet adore the feel of the tatami floors; golden woven rush— All of my senses soak, and delight in the wooden soaking tub— To sleep and to wake in an atmosphere of reflection and repose I think— People are like plants— we respond to our environment— Too much sun, a plant will die Too little sun, a plant will wither just the same Just the right amount of sun, of water— a plant will thrive; We mus
Buds beneath snow
Dec 2, 2018 · original
Last week, I emailed Tim Gruner, our head gardener, to thank him for bringing me on to help out in the garden this fall. He emailed me back, and ended the email with this: “As cold sets in I begin envisioning all the dormant energy waiting underground, in the buds, resting, restoring and preparing for a new season of growth. Imagine if you could actually see the energy; it would be a marvelous glow. That’s how I manage the cold and grey!” — Tim Gruner, Garden Curator & Head of Horticulture I loved his words so much I decided to write a poem inspired by them. Here it is, and I hope you enjoy it. Buds beneath snow Buds beneath snow the dormant, the resting the energy building; It has fallen, for now, decayed, retreated, faded; Fallen, and rotted, and left— bare, or hidden, beneath snow, beneath earth. Underground, out of sight, resting, preparing, all winter, as the days march on, day afte
Moon in Ice
Nov 21, 2018 · original
The gardens are closed for the season. The trees have lost their brilliant color. The cold is settling in. Yet, we can still marvel at nature. We can still notice the beauty all around us. We can still take strolls outside, despite the cold, and simply pay attention. Here is a poem I wrote after walking through the gardens last week, with some of these thoughts in mind. Happy Thanksgiving to all, and let us be thankful for this beautiful Earth, and all of its many gifts. Moon in Ice The architecture of limbs Is laid bare, But the pines still hold their green— Calmly, coolly, Evergreen. I walk through the gardens At night, Snow and ice, here and there Along the paths. No lights but distant street lamps And a bright, white, cold Half moon. The pond is frozen, thinly. The ice reflects the moon. I stand on the zig zag bridge, Next to a pine of medium height, Who is rooted in the cold ground,
“Look how gracefully these leaves are just flowing downstream.”
Nov 18, 2018 · original
“Look how gracefully these leaves are just flowing downstream.” I didn’t see what she meant. She was a young mother With her young children, And a young man, Perhaps the children’s father, Perhaps her husband. She was pointing down at the creek, Saying this several times, until her kids Finally looked— “Look how gracefully these leaves are just flowing downstream.” After the family had moved on I walked over And peered into the water, at the spot she had indicated. Yet it seemed to me That the leaves weren’t flowing; They were stuck The water was flowing— Then, later, I looked down at a different stream, and more stuck leaves— I wondered— The leaves appear stuck To me But really they are flowing, Stuck now, in this moment, But flowing soon, washed away soon— What else appears stuck, but really is flowing? Maybe everything stuck is really flowing? — Matthew Eighmy The post “Look how grace
Crutched Oak
Nov 13, 2018 · original
Crutched Oak This large oak Arcs gracefully up and over a stream And is supported by a crutch. The base of the crutch Is nearly in the stream. Roughly at the point where the crutch Meets the oak The trunk fractures Into three large branches Then splits, and splits again, Into countless shoots, which curl and curve, Up and down, Bearing leaves. The leaves have mostly fallen now. The gnarled oak is nearly bare, Leaning on its crutch, A living thing, A work of art, A friend. It reaches into empty space, Into unclaimed sun, Supported, crutched— Loved. — Matthew Eighmy The post Crutched Oak appeared first on Anderson Japanese Gardens .
Sunshine slants through green
Nov 9, 2018 · original
Here in Northern Illinois, it is starting to feel like autumn is drawing to a close. The nights are getting colder, the days shorter, the trees more bare. In the gardens, the season is nearly over: the last day we are open to the public is this Sunday. We are no longer so concerned with clearing the paths of leaves—there are fewer leaves to clear, and fewer visitors to mind them. Instead, we are guarding against the cold. At the end of each day we check each of the dozens of outdoor water spigots that dot the gardens, making sure that there is still a steady dripping of water from each one, making sure none are frozen. We check the heat lamps that stand sentinel over the many water pumps, and we throw tarps over outdoor valves to blanket them and keep them warm. This week we have also been catching koi and moving them from the smaller ponds (the one by the the Guest House, and the one by
Bright Ones, Dull Ones
Nov 5, 2018 · original
Bright Ones , Dull Ones So many colors In the garden, in fall More even than spring, I think Fall is heaven, the harvest Is death, death is heaven Followed by winter, the cold, The white White will blanket But before the blanket, The dance, The Fall, The explosion Of yellow, orange, red, pink The flames, The blazing sunset Dramatic, glorious Tempered By the quiet, steady evergreens Who do not mind Are not disturbed They live on, patient, Not judging the others For their histrionics, Their clamor; And the bright ones Do not scorn the evergreens, Do not think themselves Superior for their brightness, Their color— They do not find the pines dull. And what, what, what am I? A bright one, a changer? A maple, burning red Stripped bare Budding green Burning red again? Or a pine, evergreen? Ever green? It’s all eternal anyways It’s all ephemeral, too It’s all One, and it’s all Infinite, And it’s

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