I had taken the District Line almost to its very last stop. I hadn’t realized Kew Gardens was going to be this far. I had heard my mother speak of Kew Garden so many times before, I thought it was time I saw them for myself. Why I picked the first day in a week that it rained to come and see them, is beyond me, but I did. Alas, thwarted by the rain, my visit was an abbreviated one, but one that left me relishing more nonetheless.
The Royal Botanical Gardens, or Kew Gardens, is tucked away in a residential area.
After disembarking the tube, which itself is small and remote, you have to pass through residential streets to arrive at the main entrance of the Gardens. 
Predictably, there was no line to get in and no crowd. The weather had done its job of keep people away for the day. I half thought about not going in and coming back on a brighter day, but I had already come so far, and my days were running out. I was going to have to weather the day, literally, and see as much as I could. I headed straight for the indoor tropical, rainforest arboretum first. Number one on the agenda: get warm.
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| View from the tree tops! |
The sprawling grounds of Kew Gardens are like the set of every Ivory Merchant movie I have ever seen that involves a palace, nobility, and a turn of the century plot. They are palatial, elegant and well manicured.
Everywhere, despite the dreary conditions, landscapers and gardeners meticulously tend to the grounds, planting new seedlings and removing tired weeds.There were lakes and fountains and statues within every view. Ducks and geese and birds I had never seen before, roamed the grass, picking out worms from the wet soil. The greenhouses are anything but green. They are large, white buildings that remind me of elegant bird cages. Inside the tropical rainforest atrium, the warm and clammy humidity was a welcome treat to the frigid frost outside the doors. Towering palms and ferns cascaded to the ceiling of the house. Bromeliads and epiphytes spiraled around the trunks of stately acacias, Japanese banana and date palms. There were trees from Austrailia, Chile, Kenya, Thailand and Costa Rica to name a few. The whole world in a single garden, poetic really. 
Overhead misters kept the temperature and humidity perfectly tuned, periodically spraying the trees from above, reinforcing the vibe of a tropical rain forest. It is the closest I have felt to being in the Manuel Antonio forests of Costa Rica since I was there years ago.Kew Gardens had poignantly done its job
The winding staircases on either end of the glass house allowed viewers a point-of-view from overhead. The rainforest always looks different when looking down on it that it does from below. 
The scales of green in all shades folded and layered upon themselves. The occasional bright flash of color from a budding rhododendron allowed for pause against the dance of green.
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| Freezing in the desert! |
I already knew exiting the glasshouse out onto the main lawn, I would have to come back to Kew Gardens, if not on this trip then on another one soon. The rain was becoming more forceful and the day soggier by the moment. I wasn’t sure my camera or I were going to survive the outdoors for much longer. I made way for the Princess Lady Diana Conservatory displays, another housed collection of plants from different climate zones. Indoor gardens on a rainy day would have to do for now.
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| Leave a trail |
This more modern glass house was divided into temperate, desert, and hot house zones; each room showcasing the different plants that would grow in that climate. I walked out of the freezing cold day with North Face Jacket, hat and scarf right into the desert biome.
It took me a moment to acclimate, and as I stood there waiting for my lens to defrost, other visitors came in fully dressed in jacket and scarves, shaking off the water from their umbrellas. We all stood there drying off, rubbing our hands together and blowing into them for heat. We were all freezing in the desert. The irony of it made us laugh.
Tall saguaro cacti lumbered over hedgehog and barrel ones. Joshua trees intertwined with Manzanita and prickly pear plants.
There were industrial sized trees and microscopic ones. There was a room full of carnivorous plants and one of ferns and orchids that reminded me of a fairly land gully.
As was true of every museum I had been in England thus far, every display was detail oriented, well executed and informative. Kew Gardens were no different.I have spoken a lot about how growing up my father influenced all of us in a love and appreciation for art.
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| He lives here. |
Walking through gallery after gallery it was hard not to miss home thinking about how much he would have loved to see all the exhibits I saw. But here, now in these Kew Gardens, I missed him the most. My father is a consummate green thumb. His love for plants and gardening have traveled with him his whole life. My mom tells us stories of every time they moved apartments in their early days, half the car would be filled with plants and the other half with books and children. The inside and outside of our home in California, may as well be Kew Gardens, because I am sure my father has at least one of each of these plants. I think of all the things I have seen thus far, he would have loved these Gardens the most. Note to self: The next time you come back to Kew Gardens, come when its sunny and bring dad.
In my last month here I have noticed that the Brits like to make things grow. The garden was patroned that day with a lot of elderly women out with their friends despite the weather, congregating and conferring on how best to pot herbs and where best to trim roses.
They swapped tips on getting ferns to span out and orchids to stay alive. You could tell they enjoyed botany and gardening as a necessary part of their life. Seems a bit cliché, the old granny and her English garden sipping tea with her friends, but it was endearing to watch them earnestly in debate about where best to grow camellias. But it’s not just plants that the British seem keen on growing, its themselves in their entirety.
 |
| Waterfalls abound |
Why else would so many museums be free of charge for entering? Why else would every gallery or exhibit I’ve been to, no matter what day, have a school group out on a field trip? Why are their libraries so venerated and their curiosity of what’s in them so piqued? Like their well trimmed landscapes at Kew, their lives seem to be about cultivating a richness that embellishes it; fertilizing themselves and the next generation with the histories of the past and the wonders of the future. Sure they have malls and fast food and sports games and all the run-of-the mill distractions of a “modern society,” but they safeguard their cultural sides and maintain a steadfast pursuit of them. Theater is not just a treat for a birthday or an anniversary.
Museums are not just visited on days when popular exhibits come to town. The libraries are not just reserved for enrollees or students working on term papers. No, these venues are not the occasional treat, but an inclusion of an expected way of life. I admire this very much about this country and its people and hope to integrate it more into my life in LA when I return.
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| Good bye Kew Gardens. Until we meet again! |
Walking out of the Gardens, camera safely tucked into my jacket, pant legs soggy from wet lawns, hat securely in place, I was glad I had made the journey out here to see this place, despite the rain. I had learned a lot about plants and made some realizations about the people here who tend to them. I had come to the Gardens and I had grown, what more could I ask for.
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| What is it? |
And with that I opened my umbrella and ran through the rain, after all, even the hardiest of plants won't survive with over watering.
I had taken the District Line almost to its very last stop. I hadn’t realized Kew Gardens was going to be this far. I had heard my mother speak of Kew Garden so many times before, I thought it was time I saw them for myself. Why I picked the first day in a week that it rained to come and see them, is beyond me, but I did. Alas, thwarted by the rain, my visit was an abbreviated one, but one that left me relishing more nonetheless.
After disembarking the tube, which itself is small and remote, you have to pass through residential streets to arrive at the main entrance of the Gardens. 
Predictably, there was no line to get in and no crowd. The weather had done its job of keep people away for the day. I half thought about not going in and coming back on a brighter day, but I had already come so far, and my days were running out. I was going to have to weather the day, literally, and see as much as I could. I headed straight for the indoor tropical, rainforest arboretum first. Number one on the agenda: get warm.
Everywhere, despite the dreary conditions, landscapers and gardeners meticulously tend to the grounds, planting new seedlings and removing tired weeds.There were lakes and fountains and statues within every view. Ducks and geese and birds I had never seen before, roamed the grass, picking out worms from the wet soil. The greenhouses are anything but green. They are large, white buildings that remind me of elegant bird cages. Inside the tropical rainforest atrium, the warm and clammy humidity was a welcome treat to the frigid frost outside the doors. Towering palms and ferns cascaded to the ceiling of the house. Bromeliads and epiphytes spiraled around the trunks of stately acacias, Japanese banana and date palms. There were trees from Austrailia, Chile, Kenya, Thailand and Costa Rica to name a few. The whole world in a single garden, poetic really. 
Overhead misters kept the temperature and humidity perfectly tuned, periodically spraying the trees from above, reinforcing the vibe of a tropical rain forest. It is the closest I have felt to being in the Manuel Antonio forests of Costa Rica since I was there years ago.Kew Gardens had poignantly done its job
The winding staircases on either end of the glass house allowed viewers a point-of-view from overhead. The rainforest always looks different when looking down on it that it does from below. 
The scales of green in all shades folded and layered upon themselves. The occasional bright flash of color from a budding rhododendron allowed for pause against the dance of green. 
Tall saguaro cacti lumbered over hedgehog and barrel ones. Joshua trees intertwined with Manzanita and prickly pear plants. 
There were industrial sized trees and microscopic ones. There was a room full of carnivorous plants and one of ferns and orchids that reminded me of a fairly land gully. 
As was true of every museum I had been in England thus far, every display was detail oriented, well executed and informative. Kew Gardens were no different.I have spoken a lot about how growing up my father influenced all of us in a love and appreciation for art. 
Walking through gallery after gallery it was hard not to miss home thinking about how much he would have loved to see all the exhibits I saw. But here, now in these Kew Gardens, I missed him the most. My father is a consummate green thumb. His love for plants and gardening have traveled with him his whole life. My mom tells us stories of every time they moved apartments in their early days, half the car would be filled with plants and the other half with books and children. The inside and outside of our home in California, may as well be Kew Gardens, because I am sure my father has at least one of each of these plants. I think of all the things I have seen thus far, he would have loved these Gardens the most. Note to self: The next time you come back to Kew Gardens, come when its sunny and bring dad.
In my last month here I have noticed that the Brits like to make things grow. The garden was patroned that day with a lot of elderly women out with their friends despite the weather, congregating and conferring on how best to pot herbs and where best to trim roses.
They swapped tips on getting ferns to span out and orchids to stay alive. You could tell they enjoyed botany and gardening as a necessary part of their life. Seems a bit cliché, the old granny and her English garden sipping tea with her friends, but it was endearing to watch them earnestly in debate about where best to grow camellias. But it’s not just plants that the British seem keen on growing, its themselves in their entirety.
Why else would so many museums be free of charge for entering? Why else would every gallery or exhibit I’ve been to, no matter what day, have a school group out on a field trip? Why are their libraries so venerated and their curiosity of what’s in them so piqued? Like their well trimmed landscapes at Kew, their lives seem to be about cultivating a richness that embellishes it; fertilizing themselves and the next generation with the histories of the past and the wonders of the future. Sure they have malls and fast food and sports games and all the run-of-the mill distractions of a “modern society,” but they safeguard their cultural sides and maintain a steadfast pursuit of them. Theater is not just a treat for a birthday or an anniversary. 
Museums are not just visited on days when popular exhibits come to town. The libraries are not just reserved for enrollees or students working on term papers. No, these venues are not the occasional treat, but an inclusion of an expected way of life. I admire this very much about this country and its people and hope to integrate it more into my life in LA when I return.
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