Yesterday, October 25, 2011, the temperatures in the St. Louis area reached a balmy lower to mid 80's.
My yearly membership at the Missouri Botanical Gardens expires on Halloween, and I wanted to get one more free entrance to the Gardens before my card expires, and before the cold fall rains set in.
This membership is only $65, and pays for unlimited free entrance to the Gardens for 2 people (with this level of membership), a 20% discount at the Gift Shop, and free or drastically reduced entrance fees to the big events at The Gardens, not limited to, but including the Japanese Fest, the Best of Missouri Market, and much more. I will renew my membership in a couple months.
When I go to the Gardens in the middle of Winter, with the exception of the always-balmy Tropical Rain Forest (the Climatron), and the Linnean House (the oldest greenhouse west of the Mississippi River), there is no life in the Gardens. The flower beds and every other planting the is exposed to the elements have long since been tucked away for a long winter's slumber. There are no flower buds or green grass, and the reflection pools that were home to beautiful and bountiful water lilies in the summer months have been drained of their contents. They are now nothing more than cold , desolate, sterile, geometric concrete pits. What remains in my mind when I view this beautiful winterscape is that Summer is intangible: It is far out of reach. There is no doubt that Summer is not making a return to this area any time soon.
During this visit, I walked into the Gardens at a unique moment.
The atmosphere was obviously "Summer" in nature, but it was evident that I was attending Summer's funeral. I could see Summer's remains, but I knew she was not alive, and I knew she had been viable not so long ago. Autumn was present, and she was giving Summer's eulogy with a colorful flourish.
I was taken aback when Spring arrived at this memorial service as an unexpected mourner. She manifested her presence in several different ways.
As I was walking through the English Woodland Garden section near Henry Shaw's Tower Grove House, I noticed several young May Apple plants making an appearance. Just a short distance from the May Apples was a red azalea bush with a few new bright red blooms. In one of the beds that surrounds the Kemper Center Demonstration Gardens, I noticed a "Common Lilac" bush in bloom. This bush had recently been pruned back, and instead of the new shoots being buds or branches, they were healthy bunches of fragrant flowers. Our sense of smell is the strongest link to our memories. I took one whiff of this lilac, and I was immediately transcended to an early spring afternoon.
Summer's remains were laying in quiet repose. The last Spring mourner to pass Summer's corpse was a healthy Iris, "Baby Blessed", in full bloom. This particular iris is not one of the few reblooming varieties (such as "Autumn's Tryst" or "Total Recall"), but under normal circumstances, would bloom in late April to early May.
I know there must be a scientific explanation as to why these spring favorites made a sudden Fall appearance in the Botanical Gardens. I can't explain this phenomenon on a scientific level - but I CAN enjoy them, and I cannot possibly express to you the level of gratitude that I possess that I have this jewel - The Missouri Botanical Gardens - in my back yard.
My life without the venues that I frequent in this area would be a bleak existence, indeed. We have often thought about relocating, and even though there are always trade-offs when it comes to making a move, the area in which we would relocate would have to offer at least as much - or more - than what I have here. There are a few cities that come close to having venues that are similar to those that I enjoy here in St. Louis. My choice would have to be made very carefully. Southern California / San Diego is on the top of the list! :)
- Michael
My yearly membership at the Missouri Botanical Gardens expires on Halloween, and I wanted to get one more free entrance to the Gardens before my card expires, and before the cold fall rains set in.
This membership is only $65, and pays for unlimited free entrance to the Gardens for 2 people (with this level of membership), a 20% discount at the Gift Shop, and free or drastically reduced entrance fees to the big events at The Gardens, not limited to, but including the Japanese Fest, the Best of Missouri Market, and much more. I will renew my membership in a couple months.
When I go to the Gardens in the middle of Winter, with the exception of the always-balmy Tropical Rain Forest (the Climatron), and the Linnean House (the oldest greenhouse west of the Mississippi River), there is no life in the Gardens. The flower beds and every other planting the is exposed to the elements have long since been tucked away for a long winter's slumber. There are no flower buds or green grass, and the reflection pools that were home to beautiful and bountiful water lilies in the summer months have been drained of their contents. They are now nothing more than cold , desolate, sterile, geometric concrete pits. What remains in my mind when I view this beautiful winterscape is that Summer is intangible: It is far out of reach. There is no doubt that Summer is not making a return to this area any time soon.
During this visit, I walked into the Gardens at a unique moment.
The atmosphere was obviously "Summer" in nature, but it was evident that I was attending Summer's funeral. I could see Summer's remains, but I knew she was not alive, and I knew she had been viable not so long ago. Autumn was present, and she was giving Summer's eulogy with a colorful flourish.
As I was walking through the English Woodland Garden section near Henry Shaw's Tower Grove House, I noticed several young May Apple plants making an appearance. Just a short distance from the May Apples was a red azalea bush with a few new bright red blooms. In one of the beds that surrounds the Kemper Center Demonstration Gardens, I noticed a "Common Lilac" bush in bloom. This bush had recently been pruned back, and instead of the new shoots being buds or branches, they were healthy bunches of fragrant flowers. Our sense of smell is the strongest link to our memories. I took one whiff of this lilac, and I was immediately transcended to an early spring afternoon.
Summer's remains were laying in quiet repose. The last Spring mourner to pass Summer's corpse was a healthy Iris, "Baby Blessed", in full bloom. This particular iris is not one of the few reblooming varieties (such as "Autumn's Tryst" or "Total Recall"), but under normal circumstances, would bloom in late April to early May.
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| Baby Blesses |
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| "Total Recall" |
My life without the venues that I frequent in this area would be a bleak existence, indeed. We have often thought about relocating, and even though there are always trade-offs when it comes to making a move, the area in which we would relocate would have to offer at least as much - or more - than what I have here. There are a few cities that come close to having venues that are similar to those that I enjoy here in St. Louis. My choice would have to be made very carefully. Southern California / San Diego is on the top of the list! :)
- Michael
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