This summer I found myself employed as a park ranger with two of the most fun girls I’ve ever met, Chelsie and Kelsey. Both were quirky and hysterical, and made the dullness of working for the Federal Government a little more manageable. Each of us came from different backgrounds and had different kinds of “expertise” on the natural world. Chelsie was the plant expert.
I once caught Chelsie smelling a tree – I know, bizarre. Another time, she gave Kelsey, myself, and a concerned pond owner a lecture on the reproductive process of duck-weed. Chelsie seemed to know the name of every plant, where it came from, and what its purpose in nature was. I’m convinced that she may just be one of the smartest people I know.
And so when Chelsie asked me to wander through the Smithsonian gardens, I of course obliged because I knew she would love hearing about it. And besides that, the transition from the Shawnee National forest to DC was starting to make me miss seeing green things, hummingbirds, and flowers.
Last weekend I visited the Smithsonian Gardens on the South side of the Mall, as well as the Botanical Garden. I did not visit the “Victory and Heirloom” garden (maybe another time) or the butterfly garden (because it charges admission, and honestly, I’m just not the kind of person who pays to see butterflies).
First off was the Enid Haupt garden behind the Smithsonian Castle, which is made to appear as a rooftop garden. There I met a nice guard named Salaam, who offered to take my picture in the garden, quizzed me on where I was from, got really excited when I said rural Illinois, and then wanted me to tell him what the agricultural solution to feeding the world was. Oh gosh, and here I was just wanting to have a relaxing afternoon in a garden, but I guess it’s true what they say, you just can’t escape politics in DC.
As I walked to the Botanical Gardens I paused at the Rose Garden and found this cute hybrid. I forget what it’s called. Sorry Chelsie.
Then the Mary Livingston Ripley garden, which was lovely.
And finally the National Botanical Garden. Chelsie, you would have died. It’s a total plant lover’s paradise. You name it, they’ve got it. Because I had gotten sidetracked at the Air and Space Museum along the way (I TOUCHED A MOON ROCK!) I didn’t have a lot of time so I had to rush through, which was difficult for me because I wanted to see everything, touch everything, smell everything, and snatch little pieces of basil (did you know real, legitimate, hardy basil looks more like a little tree than a wimpy plant? I didn’t. I was geeking out. I’m a little obsessed with the stuff.), lavender, etc. along the way. But I resisted and didn’t pick a single thing. I can’t decide what I loved best. Maybe it was the outdoor regional garden with plants native to the Mid Atlantic. Maybe it was the exotic orchid garden. Maybe it was the little kids “playing house” in the mini-cottage with a green-roof. Maybe it was the multi-level jungle room. Maybe it was the cantankerous old man in the motorized scooter who couldn’t resist touching the cacti, was so surprised when he pricked his fingers, and continually asked me “Where’s the plant that makes tequila?”
Each mini climate room was its own adventure. I’m looking forward to going back to one of those balmy rooms and plopping down on a bench with a book some cold day this fall. Maybe Michael Pollan’s “Botany of Desire,” a book about plants which was recommended to me by, of course, Chelsie. Oh and Chelsie, guess what? The Smithsonian Gardens has an internship program






