Twenty years ago, I did professional plant collecting. But that is a ton of bureaucratic work and a big gamble. From those days, there’s only one single plant I still grow– its masses of lovely flowers will come again soon. But today, I find other garden things easier and more fun to bring back.
On a rainy winter day in Florence, Tom and I emerged from a museum into a gray cobbled street. Shuffling by, thousands of tourists, all dressed in practical black, made for a bleak, cramped scene. I needed light.
I looked down the muddy river to see a distant grove of towering white-trunked Sycamores. At that moment, a massive beam of sunlight parted the clouds to illuminate the Sycamore bone-bleached trunks—like a scene from a museum painting; an angel might as well have landed in the glow.
“Let’s go there,” I said.
The crowds thinned as we left the town center, walking a linear riverside park that took us through real Florence. Spiffy, touristed, city-center turned to anytown. We passed a derelict playground, some overflowing trash cans, and a homeless African man on a bench. On a little drum at his feet, a black cat yawned.
We entered a low, evergreen grove, where even the river to our left and the gray sky overhead were blocked out. This part of the walk was a cave– we checked that our wallets were secure. Holly-oaks grow like Carolina Live Oaks, but much more compact and low-branched. But, looking down this dark grotto ahead, we kept our eye on a small glowing cameo at the end of the walk– those bone-like sycamore trunks still lit by the winter sun.
Then we stepped out into the welcoming open, the glorification of sycamore architecture and a lovely little gelato stand.
This was what I’d take home. Not holly oak acorns, but this design lesson. Whoever laid out this park understood an old tenant of garden design: emphasize changes in scale, plant architecture, light, and feeling. Juxtapose plant habits to create memorable moments.
The habits, architecture, and colors of plants alone created this journey we’d just taken. Invited by gleaming Sycamore trees, we walked a path and crossed through a 2,000-year-old stone gate, tasted sesame gelato, and heard a gentle drum beat begin.
Were you wondering which plant I helped bring into cultivation years ago that I still love? I only had a small part in it actually; it’s a long story. My friend Jennifer and I got Nicotiana mutabilis from a public garden back in the 90s. It has only recently been found in Brazil. You can easily grow it today, purchased from commercial seed houses. It’s time to start seeds now!
Great article. You bring the scene to life!