I've found a working title for my project here in the garden at Sacy. I'm calling it the Patrimoine des rêves: the heritage, or inheritance, of dreams.
When planning my work before I came to France, I imagined I would arrive with the garden at Sacy as my canvas, ready to receive new ideas, new forms. I would clear and straighten, to suit my tastes and ideals. A grand revision.
Instead, I am finding my job to be quite different. Patrimoine means heritage, that which we are given, what we have inherited from those who went before. It is treasures passed through time; the past, which is only a memory, made present. Memories, which exist as if in the fog of dreams, made real.
Walking the garden paths in Sacy is like remembering a dream. In the cool mists, paths through the Symphocarpus, or ghostberry, take unexpected turns. Ancient fruit trees bend low from so many years of bearing. Flowers from another time, lilacs, primroses, violets, and celandine, are all around, and underfoot. The garden doesn't point to a particular design or act of creation, but seems to have always been. It seems to be not something to be made or re-made, but rather something that has been given, to be protected.
Without a gardener's labor, nature quickly and easily conquers and the inheritance of the garden is lost, for the garden is that most unnatural of natural places, and to survive, it must every day be shown human attention and care.
So now, rather than renovate, I plan to restore. Hopefully, distant memories will be uncovered. Please stay tuned!
In the meantime, I will cut the grass.
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