The Healing Horticulture of Oliver Sacks
This botanical history post was featured on The Daily Gardener podcast:
July 11, 1933
On this day, dear readers, we celebrate the birth of a most remarkable individual, Dr. Oliver Sacks - neurologist, naturalist, historian of science, and writer extraordinaire.
While his contributions to the field of neurology are indeed profound, it is his deep appreciation for gardens that shall captivate our horticultural hearts today.
Picture, if you will, the bustling streets of New York City, where amidst the cacophony of urban life, an oasis of green beckons. The New York Botanical Garden (NYBG), a verdant jewel in the city's crown, served as a sanctuary for our dear Dr. Sacks. Let us delve into his musings on this botanical haven, shall we?
I think of this garden as a treasure. First, it's a haven. In a noisy, crowded New York, we need a haven; we wander around, and time doesn't matter too much.
Oh, how these words resonate with us gardeners! Is not every plot, every carefully tended bed, a haven from the world's ceaseless demands?
When I worked at the hospital opposite the garden, I used to come in every day. Specifically, I would come in after seeing my patients but before writing up my notes. And, I would walk around the garden and put everything out of consciousness except the plants and the air.
Can you envision it, my dear readers?
The good doctor, his mind awhirl with medical mysteries, seeking solace among the swaying branches and nodding blooms. How many of us have found clarity amidst our own leafy companions?
But, by the time I got back, the patient's story would have crystallized in my mind [and then] I could then write it straight away. But I needed this sort of incubation in the garden, and to go for a walk in the garden; that sort of thing is an essential thing for me in writing.
Ah, the garden as muse!
As cultivators of beauty, we understand all too well the inspiration that can strike while tending to our botanical charges.
But let us not forget, dear friends, that gardens are not merely places of beauty and respite. They are living laboratories, windows into the vast expanse of time.
In his book, The River of Consciousness, Dr. Sacks shares a most enchanting childhood memory:
While most of the flowers in the garden had rich scents and colors, we also had two magnolia trees, with huge but pale and scentless flowers. The magnolia flowers, when ripe, would be crawling with tiny insects, little beetles. Magnolias, my mother explained, were among the most ancient of flowering plants and had appeared nearly a hundred million years ago, at a time when "modern" insects like bees had not yet evolved, so they had to rely on a more ancient insect, a beetle, for pollination.
Is this not a thrilling revelation?
To think that our humble gardens are host to living fossils, carrying on ancient partnerships forged in the mists of time!
As we tend to our plots this day, let us channel the spirit of Oliver Sacks. May we find in our gardens not just beauty, but healing, inspiration, and a profound connection to the grand tapestry of life.
And when the world becomes too much, let us remember his sage advice, borrowed from the inimitable T.S. Eliot:
Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?'
Let us go and make our visit.
Indeed, my fellow gardeners, let us make our visit to our own green havens, and revel in the timeless wonder they offer.