On Thursday, my class took a field trip to Old Westbury Gardens. After a brief introduction, we began a 5 1/2-hour foot journey through the 200-acre estate, breaking only for lunch.
Of those acres, 88 are devoted to formal gardens, tree-lined walks, grand allées (narrow walkways flanked on both sides with double rows of trees or shrubs) and ponds. Old Westbury is considered the finest English garden in the United States, with plantings -- many 100 years old -- that include historic varieties, new hybrids and experimental plants.
I had visited the gardens before, but had never taken part in a formal tour, which proved eye-opening and inspiring.
Master gardener Gene Lanzaro led the afternoon portion of the tour, which focused on the plantings and the family that had lived at the estate, from a historical standpoint.
Henry Phipps, a poor shoemaker, immigrated to Philadelphia from England in the early 19th century, eventually settling in Pittsburgh. His son Henry II, partnered with friend and neighbor Andrew Carnegie to found Carnegie Steel. As the company's second-largest shareholder, the younger Phipps became quite wealthy.
When his son John, a financier, married Margarita Grace from Ireland, he purchased an old 160-acre Quaker farm, where he built a mansion with magnificent gardens for his new bride. The couple raised their 4 children there, surprisingly only residing at the estate during spring and fall.
Following Phipps' death in 1958, the estate was donated for public use and became known as Old Westbury Gardens.
Talk about your American Dream!
Gene did a terrific job, enthralling the class with a fascinating history lesson. We were captivated as we learned the history of 100-year-old trees, touched when we learned the family had taken in 30 European children during wartime, and amused as we strolled through the Dog Grave Yard, where the family buried more than a half-dozen of its cherished pets, each with its own personalized headstone.
Coincidently, reader Susan Kahoud of Garden City sent in a lovely piece she has written about an old apple tree at Old Westbury Gardens. It appeared originally in the Gardens' newsletter, and she has asked me to share it with Newsday readers. For me, it couldn't be more timely.
As one approaches the Green Garden, arching beyond the wall of Summersweet, her branches may be observed, abundant with foliage and flourishing in nature's generous milieu. Rays of sunlight dance among her shadows and the multitude of leaves whisper secrets in the wind while reaching up to claim their sustaining treat.
As one turns the corner and enters the secluded garden, however, it becomes apparent that this is not an ordinary apple tree. Iniquities of life -- disease and careless bolts of lightning -- have rendered this tree vulnerable to the ravages of time. Her trunk riddled with deformity, is split wide open at the top and down the back, like an evening gown split down the seam. Peering inside, one discovers an empty womb, and it is a marvel that this tree survives at all! Yet, miraculously, this hope-filled tree thrives through the vitality of her forgiving bark, and by the grace of an invincible spirit that sustains her in life.
In a world that insists on the limitations of the obvious, this wise old apple tree helps us perceive the possible within the hidden, and assures us that despair does not have the last word. In the late afternoon sun, in the calm of day, it is good to rest under her bough and bask in her bounty of hope. -- Susan Kahoud
