Jim Scott’s Magic Garden
“Gardening
simply does not allow one to be mentally old, because too many hopes and dreams
are yet to be realized.”
Allan
Armitage
I was
invited by my friend Ellen to visit Jim Scott’s Garden on Tuesday. Ellen took
her Centering Prayer group, and some couldn’t go, so she invited me, and I
invited my friend, Isie, who used to work for Southern Living magazine. Six
older women, the youngest being 72, all with walking sticks to support their various
infirmities, climbed down and up rock steps, across bridges, and even into a
man-made cave under a waterfall. For me, it was akin to Alice plummeting into Wonderland.
Jim Scott is a retired attorney who lives part
time at Lake Martin, near Alex City, AL. He is now in his 80’s and still going
strong in his glorious garden. To say stepping into this place is pure magic is
not hyperbole. One climbs down from an ordinary red clay and gravel road into
a tropical oasis. Visually, it looks like Swiss Family Robinson’s tree houses plunked
down in The Secret Garden, except it takes up about seven acres. It’s private,
only open to the public by appointment two months out of the year. No weddings
or parties; just come, see Jim’s handiwork, and go home. But it’s worth every
minute of the two-hour drive there and back from Birmingham. We were fortunate
to have Jeannie, the horticulturist and caretaker of the garden to give us a
tour. She knew the botanical names for every single plant, and truly, there
were thousands of them. Apparently, Mr. Scott spends his evenings trolling the
internet for unusual plants to add to his collection.
There were numerous
grottos and whimsical play areas, rock bridges and viewing platforms, a chess
board with child-sized pieces. Around every turn we discovered another cozy
nook for sitting and reading a good book, or simply immersing oneself in the
surrounding beauty. Wherever one goes in Jim Scott’s garden, he/she is aware of
the enormous amount of work that goes into making such a magical place, complete
with waterfalls, numerous statues including angels and gargoyles, giant slabs
of stone. Each one, and every single plant and pot and brick and rock was
placed by hand and kept lush by water pumped up from the lake and returned to
it in a continuous loop.
In 1911, Rudyard Kipling
wrote in The Glory of the Garden, “Gardens are not made by singing ‘Oh,
how beautiful,’ and sitting in the shade.” Anyone who has created even a
small one knows the sweat and tears that go into such a labor of love. What a
gift that Mr. Scott allows total strangers to tour his garden even two months a
year.
In his 1625 Essays, Of
Gardens, Francis Bacon wrote, “God Almighty first planted a garden. And
indeed, it is the purest form of human pleasures.” I agree. Perhaps the joining
of labor and beauty, the sounds of water burbling and wind rustling leaves, the
combination of body fatigue and soul satisfaction provides a little foretaste
of paradise. I just hope heaven’s half as beautiful as Jim Scott’s garden.
In the Spirit,
Jane
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