PASADENA
CLEARLY, I HAD ENTERED
some alien universe, coming in for a landing on a
planet whose oddly named creatures looked downright
bizarre.
Green tentacles waving, Stenocereus resembled
the giant squid from
20,000 Leagues Under the
Sea
. Nearby stood a delegation of skinny creatures
covered in white hair, each sporting a few bright pink
noses.
These fanciful beings were from an alien world, all
right – the deserts of our own planet. I was standing
among the succulents and cactuses in one part of a
triple-threat cultural institution – the Huntington Library,
Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens – that lies just
across the Pasadena line in San Marino.
As we Californians are now learning to do, the
plants in this desert garden live on scant water. Storing
moisture in their leaves and stems, they protect their
liquid assets with sharp spines.
Barrel cactuses were clustered in mounds, like
green cannonballs. Agaves sent flower spikes
resembling colossal asparagus stalks 30 feet into the
air. Hummingbirds flitted delicately among the cactus
needles to sip from pink flowers. Bunnies hopped
along garden paths. In the end, the desert seemed a
peaceable kingdom.
Only a few steps away from the garden, prize
paintings were displayed in a 1910 Beaux Arts
mansion built for Southern California railway and real
estate tycoon Henry Huntington. His library, one of the
world’s great research institutions, holds 400,000 rare
books including a Gutenberg Bible, along with letters
written by Abraham Lincoln and original drafts of
Thoreau’s
Walden.
As I left the Huntington, I reflected that here the
spirit of Pasadena comes full circle: the artifacts of a
refined culture, a graceful residence, and a garden
flourishing in the California sun.
58
summer
|
fall
