To The Botanic Gardens I Have Come

I have a long history with botanic gardens, starting with the one I knew and loved as a child in Brooklyn. I was particularly fond of a certain greenhouse where the warm and humid air provided a respite from winter and leafy palms and rubber trees transported me to South American jungles and memory has added the gurgle of a river and the squawking of parrots overhead. I went back a couple of years ago and was pleased to discover that although the greenhouses no longer felt quite like entries into other worlds, the overall essence endured. People of every age and color still came from all over the city to pay quiet homage to roses, and though I had missed the lilacs, there were lilies in ponds, fragrant herbs, and the perennial grace of a Japanese garden. It was refreshing and peaceful as always, the sort of thing you are glad exists even if you cannot often partake of it.

So naturally I glanced yearningly toward Oxford's Botanic Garden every time I walked past its entrance on the High Street, but it was always rainy and windy and cold, and admission was three pounds, and locals had warned that there wouldn’t be much to see yet, and Oxford was brimming over with daffodils anyway.I even happened upon a wry poem about the Oxford Botanic Garden in winter by poet George Chopping that begins:

"To the Botanic GardensI have come

for some floral inspiration;

flowers, there were none."

I waited. And while waiting, I read. I learned that The University of Oxford Botanic Garden was established in 1621 on the grounds of a former medieval Jewish cemetery, the first such garden in the United Kingdom. Its mission, stated by benefactor Sir Henry Danvers, was "the glorification of the works of God and for the furtherance of learning".

According to the Botanic Garden website, the walls and arches took a decade to finish and it was not until 1642 that the Garden obtained its first curator, Jacob Bobart, who grew fruits and medicinal plants. The oldest tree in the garden is a yew tree planted during his tenure. Over the course of nearly four centuries the Garden has been a place of beauty and inspiration to many, but its true emphasis is scientific -- it's a living library of over 8,000 different plant species.I learned, too, that an Oxford mathematics professor named Charles Dodgeson (otherwise known as Lewis Carroll) was especially fond of the Garden and visited often with Alice and her sisters. (The water lily house appears in the background of Sir John Tenniel’s illustration for the Queen’s croquet ground.) J.R.R. Tolkein apparently had a favorite tree here, and Philip Pullman places Lyra and Will Parry together on a Garden bench in the final chapter of his trilogy.

But my favorite literary reference to the Oxford Botanic Garden comes from Brideshead Revisited, when Sebastian says, “Oh, Charles, what a lot you have to learn! There's a beautiful arch there and more different kinds of ivy than I knew existed. I don't know where I should be without the Botanical Gardens."

Somehow we would all be diminished.

The perfect moment for a visit arrived on our last full day in Oxford. It was a day of sunshine and mild temperatures, and we happened to be out walking, and Miranda said, “Shall we?”

Flowers, there were few.

But the grounds were serene and the glasshouses wondrous. In the first of the houses small orange trees were growing in clay pots, and I stood there in the warmth savoring the familiar fragrance of their blossoms. Then I entered an arid zone of desert cacti and succulents, a lily house, a palm house, and a fernery, each its own environment. I walked over to look at the river with its colorful punt boats, and the central fountain, and wandered about aimlessly, just enjoying the day.Finally I returned to the oranges, and I knew how much I missed California.

Then I found Miranda sitting on a bench in the sunlight looking happy indeed and completely at home. We bought her an annual pass.