plant moment
A few days ago I was walking home from class by a new route when I passed a high metal fence with a French garden behind it, occupying an unusual amount of space on an otherwise densely built-up block. A small plaque informed me that this was the garden of the Willet-Holthuysen canal house, open to the public. I walked around to the front entrance.
One of the best finds of Amsterdam is the Museumkaart. Thirty euro gets you this multicolored plastic card, which grants you free entrance to hundreds of museums all around the Netherlands for an entire year. Ordinarily I might have walked right by the Willet-Holthuysen canal house, or the Maritime Museum, and for sure the Bible Museum – but all of these and more have been little treasures I have initially explored because of the free ticket in.
The three-story Willet-Holthuysen house on the Herengracht canal was left to the city in 1895 by its last owners, Abraham Willet and – this is the best I can do – Mrs. Willet-Holthuysen. Much of the original interior has been preserved and restored, so it is a glimpse into the life of the wealthy Amsterdam elite around the turn of the century: hand-made flocked wallpaper, immense chandeliers, and imported table service for 24.
For me, though, the best part was the garden. The original garden was destroyed during WWII, but afterwards a French garden was planted, since this was the style in late nineteenth century Amsterdam. The design was symmetrical and not particularly exciting, and the statuary was covered up for the winter. But the plants… the plants were the surprise.
There they were in predictable rows, wearily drooping with January: Digitalis, Lonicera, Vinca minor, Acanthus mollis, little hedges of Ilex aquifolium. Not the most stunning or rare plants, and certainly not my favorites. But: plants I knew.
I never knew the names and faces of plants until a year ago, and so I have never had this sensation of recognition before. It was like running into old friends far from home. Even the Hedera helix made me smile. They all live in Oregon, and here they were abroad, just like me. I got to the Camellia sasanqua and thought, this might be blooming! And sure enough, at the bottom in the back were a few small pink flowers.
I ran into a familiar plant thousands of miles from home and knew if I looked I would find flowers. Fantastic. Thank you Ann Bettman, plants teacher extraordinaire.
One of the best finds of Amsterdam is the Museumkaart. Thirty euro gets you this multicolored plastic card, which grants you free entrance to hundreds of museums all around the Netherlands for an entire year. Ordinarily I might have walked right by the Willet-Holthuysen canal house, or the Maritime Museum, and for sure the Bible Museum – but all of these and more have been little treasures I have initially explored because of the free ticket in.
The three-story Willet-Holthuysen house on the Herengracht canal was left to the city in 1895 by its last owners, Abraham Willet and – this is the best I can do – Mrs. Willet-Holthuysen. Much of the original interior has been preserved and restored, so it is a glimpse into the life of the wealthy Amsterdam elite around the turn of the century: hand-made flocked wallpaper, immense chandeliers, and imported table service for 24.
For me, though, the best part was the garden. The original garden was destroyed during WWII, but afterwards a French garden was planted, since this was the style in late nineteenth century Amsterdam. The design was symmetrical and not particularly exciting, and the statuary was covered up for the winter. But the plants… the plants were the surprise.
There they were in predictable rows, wearily drooping with January: Digitalis, Lonicera, Vinca minor, Acanthus mollis, little hedges of Ilex aquifolium. Not the most stunning or rare plants, and certainly not my favorites. But: plants I knew.
I never knew the names and faces of plants until a year ago, and so I have never had this sensation of recognition before. It was like running into old friends far from home. Even the Hedera helix made me smile. They all live in Oregon, and here they were abroad, just like me. I got to the Camellia sasanqua and thought, this might be blooming! And sure enough, at the bottom in the back were a few small pink flowers.
I ran into a familiar plant thousands of miles from home and knew if I looked I would find flowers. Fantastic. Thank you Ann Bettman, plants teacher extraordinaire.
posted by tortaluga at 9:33 AM
<< Home