The stones that form
the mountain area’s
waterfall, including
its largest and most
important eight-ton
stone. With time,
they have developed
traceries of moss.
(Photo by
Corinne Kennedy)
The view just inside
the main, southern
entrance, with most
of the Garden hidden
from view. (Photo by
Corinne Kennedy)
forest. Plants native to Japan—such as pines,
maples, camellias, bamboo and moss—predominate,
but Pacific Northwest native plants are
included as well. East of the path is a dry streambed
flowing through open woodlands. Where
the way forks, we take the eastern path (moving
counterclockwise through the Garden) and pass
by three tall ginkgo trees. Then, the vista opens
to our first expansive view of the Garden and its
central pond.
Ahead is the Garden’s original (eastern) entry
gate, the central island with its two bridges bisecting
the pond, and a moon-viewing platform on
the other side. Also revealed is the northern end
of the garden, with its port village. On our way
there, we pass by the wisteria arbor, where water
from the pond flows out of the Garden. The cutstone
dock and paths reveal the formal and human
element that characterizes this harbor area.
A seven-foot stone wall behind the village
hints of mountain foothills. Above it, a long row
of sculpted azalea—a wave of bright-pink flowers
in spring—symbolizes ocean waves or mountain
ranges. Benches with expansive garden views are
backed by a pine-covered slope.
Leaving behind the port village and the
garden’s northern end, we pass a densely forested
area of broadleaf evergreens before arriving at
the azumaya, an open-sided wooden shelter for
rest and reflection. Situated at the top of a rise,
it provides a beautiful view of the Garden and
its orchard of flowering cherry, crabapple and
plum. Pausing here, we appreciate the borrowed
scenery (shakkei) of the larger Arboretum beyond.
At the pond’s southwestern edge is the roji,
a tranquil refuge defined by its many shades of
green. A mixed hedge of boxwood, cedar, pieris
and evergreen huckleberry surrounds it, pruned
in an open style suggestive of the mie gakure
aesthetic. Participants in the tea ceremony gather
in a small waiting station (machiai) in the outer
garden, before being led to the teahouse—a rustic
villa known as “Arbor of the Murmuring Pines”
(Shoseian). Nearby is the mountain—our Garden’s
final and most naturalistic section, and the area
most reminiscent of the landscapes of Japan.
Except for its flat, highly populated coastal
areas, Japan’s landscape is dominated by rocky,
forested mountains and swift streams cascading
down from waterfalls. Our own mountain
—densely planted with maples and other trees,
both deciduous and evergreen—contains a
monumental waterfall, its primary stone an eightton
boulder. Higher up is an eleven-story stone
pagoda, symbolizing a mountain monastery.
Here, the elements of water, plants and large,
moss-covered stones come together to form one
of the Garden’s most powerful features.
From the mountain area, we pass downhill
to end our journey in the open woodlands of its
beginning, where most of the Garden is again
hidden from view. Here, and throughout the
6 v Washington Park Arboretum Bulletin