The Sunken Gardens

The first thing I felt when I stepped my foot out the car door was the cool fall breeze that swept the humidity out of the air. The Sunken Gardens had been under construction and the newest structure was a dome. The dome was supported by eight pillars of stone the color of an elephant’s tusk. As I stood in the middle of the dome, I looked up and then laid down on the patterned ground, made with bricks to resemble a flower of different textures and colors. The top of the dome discovered the seasons. Snow flakes and falling leaves, birds and butterflies, raccoons and squirrels, the state capitol and a plane. Inscribed on the inside of the dome underneath the flowing seasons were the words, I expect to make this spot the most beautiful place in the city either in or out of the parks. The ground lends itself perfectly to the making of a sunken garden at the same time a spot rich in beauty. E.M. Bair November 1930. As I walked along the brick path, I walked on engraved dedications. I stopped and took a deep breath and could smell the potent but sweet aroma of thousands of flowers. I closed my eyes to the world and could hear the chirping of birds, the buzzing of bees and the unfortunate sound of the passing cars. I then stumbled along a path of rocks that led me to a sculpture in the Garden of Healing. The white flowers looked so pure and were like silk to the touch. The last sound I heard was that of the water fall in the center of the garden. It was the focus of the garden and everything else was built around it. When listening to the water, it took me away to a secluded forest where none of today’s problems could find me.