Wherever I travel, I enjoy spending a sunny morning or afternoon wandering through a botanical garden snapping photos of whatever catches my eye. I have visited memorable gardens in Canada, Bermuda, England and France. Over the years, I have taken an ever expanding collection flower photos.
One of my favorite gardens is on the West Coast of the United States. No passport required to make the trip. If you ever find yourself in the vicinity of San Marino, CA, setting aside time to go to the Huntington Library and Botanical Gardens is a must.
The Huntington started out as a working ranch purchased by railroad tycoon, Henry E. Huntington in 1903. On their private estate, Henry and his wife, Arabella, assembled impressive art, book and botanical collections to create the library, museum and gardens that today are shared with the world. The photos I took at the Huntington have inspired this photo essay.
The roses were in bloom at the Huntington. With her camera in her hand, Clio Penrose strolled beneath the California sunshine savoring the rose-scented breeze and the bird-song that filled the garden. Following the winding path that led to a romantic stone temple, she admired the many varieties of roses, each carefully identified and labeled. As she moved from flower bed to arbor, she snapped photos of roses of all colors, red, yellow, pink and even a dusky purple shade she had never seen before.
Stopping to chat with one of the horticulturists, a petite older woman wearing round glasses and a floppy sunhat, Clio learned that the three acres contained 1,300 different types of roses that remained in bloom from March to late November.
“Wow, Hermione! I never realized there were so many kinds of roses,” Clio said, reading the name tag pinned to the collar of the other woman’s gauzy tunic.
“This garden was planted by the Huntingtons in 1908. Arabella loved roses and used many of the blooms grown here in her household flower arrangements,” Hermione explained. “Over the next century, the gardeners planted and developed a vast collection of cultivars. The rose family is the third largest plant family, you know. One of the newest varieties here is called ‘Huntington’s 100th.’ It has pale yellow and pink petals and an enchanting lemony scent. My colleagues created it for the Library’s centennial celebration.”
“That sounds lovely,” Clio said.
“You’ll find several beds dedicated to the 100th roses over near the Gallery of American Art.”
“I’ll definitely go find them,” Clio said. She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head sweeping back her dark bangs and smiled. “The Huntington is such a beautiful place! Do you absolutely love working here?”
“I do.” Hermione nodded. “I’m originally from Vermont but came to California for college. I often think that if I had chosen the University of Vermont instead of UCLA, I never would have ended up here at the Huntington. That one decision led me to my dream job.”
The two women stood in contemplative silence. After a few moments, Clio settled her sunglasses back on the bridge of her nose and said, “Well, thank you for all the great information. I’m going to take a look at the 100th roses.”
Hermione waved her off in the direction of the art gallery. “Enjoy your day,” she said.
The delicate pink and yellow roses were Clio’s favorite. The combination of the pastel colors and the unique fragrance of the roses was enchanting. The horticulturalist was right.
Clio lingered by the rose beds for more than twenty minutes, taking photo after photo of the elegant blooms. She would love to plant some 100th roses in her home garden back in Maine.
At last, she put her camera in her blue plaid shoulder bag that matched her sundress. With one backward glance at Huntington’s 100ths, she made her way to the Rose Garden Tearoom. As she sipped a reviving cup of Earl Grey and snacked on scones slathered with clotted cream and apricot jam, Clio thought about Hermione’s story and the course of her own life.
She had happy memories of growing up on the Connecticut shoreline. She had enjoyed studying graphic design at Rhode Island School of Design and now owned a comfortable condominium in Portland, Maine where she ran her own freelance business.
Overall, she was content with her life. But where would she be now if she had ventured outside of New England for college or her first design job? What if she had chosen a different major like linguistics and studied abroad?
Was she destined to be a lifelong New Englander or could she have headed down a completely different road simply by altering a single decision?
The possibilities were fascinating!
