“I have a book for you,” he presented a hefty, perfectly bound three-pounder with a cover suitable for framing. Five precisely drawn insects arranged almost like a flower with their translucent wings sketched on oyster gray paper and the words 日本列島のトンボをカラーで.
I was captivated. I’d soon understand that this moment would come to represent the whole reason for my visit to this campus.
In this university lecture hall, 130 plant-lovers gathered to hear me rattle on and show pictures about what it means, and what it takes to redefine Southern gardens. My slideshow, “Soul Gardens for the New South,” looks back at what southern gardening got right, what we missed or neglected, and how to make sure new gardens thrive and include all sorts of new Southerners.
Lots of fascinating people struck up conversations. One woman told me about her garden in Italy and another who seemed to know a lot about me, asked, ‘are you still hanging out with that Wilbanks boy from Barnwell?” I'd been drumming with his son two days ago – how did she know my friends?
But this man knew how to engage a stranger, even in a crowded room. He mentioned that we had family in the same little town. He said he’d been planting crinum lilies and fruit trees around the high school at Hilton Head. Then he said, "I have a book for you.”
Six new books later and I wanted to sneak out of the conference to go see his garden. George Westerfield retired from teaching English, but he never left school. “The schoolyard was barren. So I started collecting discarded plants from garden centers and landscapers and got to digging. We take things thrown away and make them grow again. Fruit trees, thousands of bulbs, a rose garden, and pollinator gardens grow all over campus. Hilton Head High school population is about 35% Hispanic now. were The kids learn from it, and have fun.”
I loved his enthusiasm, so I said, “Listen, I have some voodoo lilies in that box. You know about their crazy floral scents that attract flies? You should take some, the students will like that.”
He filled up a bag and handed me yet another beautiful book, Aquatic Entomology for the Fisherman. He said, “I’m helping place these books, they were owned by an ecologist who worked with dragonflies and robber flies in the US and in Japan. Take a selfie with me. She’ll love knowing they went to someone who loves them.”
I treasure that photo. My new book is a gift from a woman with a passion for dragonflies. I’ll turn every textured page, feel the onion skin, and savor the drawings. I’ll never understand all that lies within a Japanese book, but I understand so much more.
We stood for a photo and then said our goodbyes. In that one photo, I see the topic of my entire presentation.
I see George Westerfield connecting people from multiple generations. I imagine the woman whose Dragonflies of the Japanese Archipelago I hold. She must be fascinating, and I know a woman filled with wonder. And I see a new generation of students getting their hands dirty, finding solace and community in growing plants. This new generation is unlike any before them who’ve cared for our southern soils. They’ve come from all over the world. They’ll learn ecology, soil, and plants from people who came before. Maybe combining ecology and taste is what gardeners have always done. But this new generation will bring ideas and ethos from places that haven’t had much recognized influence here. They’ll throw out some of the old stuff and bring in new, and they’ll define what gardening means in this new South.
loved it.
Terrific! Thank you