Notes made before the moment
could disappear.
These pages were written close to the garden - beside an open window, among the mint, beneath the Rose of Sharon, or just after someone small vanished from view.
They are not finished stories. They are the first record of what appeared, what changed, what someone stopped long enough to notice, and what the garden had not yet explained.
Some notes hold a name, story, video, or photo. Others hold only a question.
Both are enough to begin.
Invitation: Open a Field Note from the Database Below.
A note about dates and numbers:
The date tells us when the garden moment occurred. The Field Note number tells us when that moment entered this collection.
Sometimes an older photograph, sketch, or video finds its way back to us much later. We keep its true date and give it the next available number. The garden does not always return its stories in order
Visit the Gardens' Field Notes
The garden continues speaking in movements too small to announce themselves.
These are just a few of the moments someone happened to hear.
Field Note No. 015 - Little Rubbish Collector Climbs the Rose of Sharon
A pile of rubbish smaller than a pea climbed the Rose of Sharon so slowly that, somewhere during eighty seconds, it became someone I was rooting for.
Founding Field Record No. FFR02 - The Earliest Monarch Nursery
The earliest monarch caterpillars did not remain where the milkweed had placed them.
Founding Field Record No. FFR01 - Stubbers at the Office Window
The birds could not see me, but I could see them.
Field Note No. 014 - The Hose No One Would Roll Up
The hose had been left in the grass for watering. For a little while, it became a neighborhood.
Field Note No. 013 - Tiny Rhino Moves One Leg
Tiny Rhino was nearly too small for the camera to find. One intermittent hind-leg movement brought the little life into focus.
Field Note No. 012 - Scuderella at the Edge of a Leaf
I went looking for monarch eggs and met someone else: a tiny green nymph almost perfectly held by the leaf around her.
Field Note No. 011 - Another Generation in the Mint
The Gray Hairstreaks were so small that I brought out a tape measure—not to reduce wonder to a number, but to preserve how easily they could have been missed.
Field Note No. 010 - The Garden Moves in Heat
In the summer heat, the flame acanthus began to crackle and throw its seeds. The still garden had been moving all along.
Field Note No. 009 - Too Many Tiny Toads to Count
The garden was suddenly full of baby toads—too many small lives to turn into a confident number.
Field Note No. 008 - Wilfred Moved In
Wilfred was small enough to overlook and pale enough to appear almost luminous. By evening, it felt as though he had moved in.
The Garden Continues On...
