On a recent visit to Manito Park in Spokane, Washington, there was one garden that made more than an impression on my serene space-loving soul, The Nishinomiya Tsutakawa Japanese Garden. And yes, that is a mouthful.
Upon stepping into the garden's entrance, my internal joy meter peaked at max squee as I was transported into a world of Japanese garden awesomeness! Well thought out and executed things that don't look or feel fussy are my kumquat jam. The crisp fall air and riot of autumn colors transported me to a Miyazaki movie state of mind.
But before I continue with the sights of the garden, I think it is pertinent to discuss the history of the delightful space a bit. The garden was completed in 1974 as a symbol of friendship with Spokane's sister city, Nishinomiya, Japan. I love the whole concept of symbolizing friendship with people who live thousands of miles away. I'm sure there are people in sister cities across the planet who enjoy watching koi float about in ponds and pondering the fall of red maple leaves just as much as I do.
Aside from the brotherly love feelings thing, another incredibly interesting fact about the garden is its original architect, Nagao Sakurai, was at one time in charge of the Imperial Palace grounds. Dang!
He suffered a stroke during the Nishinomiya project and a couple of other architects were brought in to finish the garden, Shosuke Nagai and Hirohiko Kawai. The garden was dedicated on May, 17th, 1974. I don't know about you all, but I feel like there is much more to the garden's origin story than the few sentences on the Spokane Park's page. I might have to go a digging...
Anyway, back to the garden. There is a a meandering loop through all the garden's sections after you walk into the entrance. We stalked off to the left, after a small bit of koi contemplation.
One of the first sights we encountered along the loop was this waterfall. I love waterfalls! I think I probably blurted this sentiment out loud like an over-awed Charlie And The Chocolate Factory Character. I am not embarrassed at all.
The shades of fall were on full display as the garden was covered in a red, orange, and yellow coating of leaves. It had just rained, so all of the leaves were glistening with moisture. As I was trying not to wipe out on said slick leaves, I was struck with the awareness that I felt just so happy to be there.
Throughout the garden are delightful architectural displays of Japanese culture:
A petite pagoda:
A statuesque lantern:
And my favorite, the pond-straddling bridge of pedestrian traffic awesomeness!:
Being a bit of a storyteller, as I skipped through the magnificent space, my brain wandered from idea to idea. Like, what sort of awesome things had happened in the garden? What sort of horrible? Was its origin tale fraught with stress and drama? I mean, the original architect had a stroke for koi's sake! Something had to be going on! The juxtaposition of serenity and humanity is always interesting to me, so I found it especially intriguing that my body was completely chill as I meandered through the space yet my mind was a churning, vibrant morass of creative energy.
Ah. Duality.
Did I mention that I really love Japanese gardens?😁
And as most of the time, all of the images in this post were taken on the author's far from serene and not matcha green iPhone.