by Midge Goeth

Having read George’s wonderfully informative article on Shohin, I started thinking about the whole concept of Japanese gardening and how to incorporate bonsai into our landscapes. And because Shohin is currently listed as bonsai between 7 and 10 inches, we probably need to be thinking small garden areas in which to display these miniatures.

I am in the process of developing a corner of my back yard into a small meditative garden with more of an oriental feel. The early gardens in Japan (7th century A.D.) were based on those of Tang China, but they came more and more to resemble the landscape of Japan itself -- an island country, mountainous, full of streams and stands of tall trees. Buddhist themes were explored, but likely in the heart of the gardens was the ancient Japanese faith of Shinto, which viewed the world and everything in it, including man, as infused with the primeval forces of creation.

Reading through many books, and viewing pictures of typical Japanese gardens, I have come to realize that this is not going to be as easy as I first thought. Western style gardens tend to be more formal, with rows of flowers carefully placed in a geometric pattern among some green shrubs and trees representing the artistry of the maker. The Japanese garden is no less created than the Western counterpart. But the patterns are established in such a way as to disguise the human hand behind them. Garden stones and trees are laid out asymmetrically to suggest the rugged wildness of nature. Permanent greens, grays, and browns predominate, but they are counter pointed by scattered flowers and fruits. Empty space, wind, periods of dormancy, shadows, and viewing angles are subtle.

Today the home gardener in Japan has very small spaces with which to work. Consider the following descriptive and imagine yourself in the picture. (Taken from "A Japanese Touch For Your Garden")

“It is morning. The man has washed and put on a blue suit. He is now sitting quietly while he sips a cup of tea and stares off into the landscape before him. A large rugged mountain rises in the west; it is not so far away that he can't hear the splash of the waterfall it conceals. A stream rushes to the plain and feeds a lake that widens almost to his feet. The man traces the shoreline to a dense forest on the other side; the trees in front are twisted, and he can almost hear the wind that has played upon them over the years. Behind, tall cedars rise up a hill to a secluded mountain temple.

There are distances beyond that forest he would like to travel someday. But now there is no time. The man picks up his briefcase, tells his wife he will be back late that evening, and, once outside the gate, steps vigorously into the line of people already hurrying to the train station, about a five-minute walk away.”

The landscape the man was looking at was not a real landscape at all, but a Japanese garden only a few meters square. He built it himself. The "mountain" was a large stone he had brought in by truck. The "waterfall" and the "stream" were smaller stones and pebbles carefully arranged in clefts and tiers. The "sea" was of white gravel, and the "windswept trees" were a few pines he trained when they were young. The "hill" was made with soil removed during contouring, and the "secluded temple" was suggested by a stone tower purchased at a local garden-supply store.

But not once while looking at this scene, though he looks at it every morning, did the man say to himself, "This is just a garden." What he saw was a landscape: alive, unsullied, vast, and serene. It prepared him for his day in the city that lay beyond the garden wall.

I think I have my work cut out for me. To presume this project will be finished anytime soon is ludicrous. But it certainly will be a project worthy of creativity and a continued meditative attitude to make it work. And like all other creative gardening endeavors, it will be a canvas that changes and grows as nature works its magic each year.

Here are a few pointers to help you create your own manmade "micromountains" and "microlakes". Be aware of the various properties of the space you select. Consider the climate (various microclimates exist in your own backyard), and soil conditions. Understand the spatial relationships that govern the garden. Small gardens require careful planning because in a tiny area the slightest flaw, overgrowth, clutter, or imbalance will be magnified in effect, just as George explained about styling Shohin.

Straight lines and perfect geometric shapes like circles and squares are rarely used except for contrast or to echo the lines of a near-by building.

Asymmetrical designs and oddnumbered groupings are favored.

Contrast is very important. For example, a whole row of red flowers is not used, only a single red flower in a mass of green.

The gardener suggests the passage of time by building change and motion into the garden. Trees are selected for their properties in different seasons, and fluid water forms are contrasted with stable stones.

"White areas" of empty space are left in the garden for balance and to allow room for the viewer’s imagination to wonder.

Everything superfluous to the total effect of the garden is discarded. The gardeners design is complete when nothing else can be removed from the garden.

A moist look is favorable. Gardens look best after a rain. (Which is one reason our garden tour this year was great!)

The garden is a study in relationships. When planning, the gardener should be concerned with the interaction of slopes, colors, sounds, shapes, and movements.

Actually, the gardener's intricate and creative structure is really just a shell. By giving nature its freedom, the gardener opens oneself to the new partnerships that nature suggest.