The Moongate Garden, at the Enid Haupt Smithsonian Gardens, and the Number Four

Last Friday I was fortunate enough to have some downtime in my schedule for a walk through the Enid Haupt Gardens at the Smithsonian.  I'd say, as far as enjoying the blossoms of Magnolia x. soulangiana, my timing couldn't be more perfect.  I always love flowering trees most when half the petals are on the ground, and half still on the tree.

Strangely enough -- and I've never noticed this before with saucer magnolia -- but the landscape smelled a little like pizza.  Now then, maybe I was just hungry, but I think when the petals start to decay they have a slight aroma of parmesan.
 

I love the boldness of using so many of this tree, and against the brick, the petals weren't even that slippery (on smoother surfaces they can be like banana peels).   The shots above are at the entry to the Moongate Garden, which was part of the renovation of the Enid Haupt Gardens in 1987. 

In the photo above is the Moongate itself (there are actually two in the garden).  It's hard to read thsi time of year since the pink granite blends so well with the Magnolia petals.  Below is a more clear shot. 

Approaching the Moongate, the paving changes to granite with notches of Belgian block.  The Moongate Garden is inspired by the Temple of Heaven, built in Beijing during the Ming Dynasty (14-17C).

The round granite stone placed in a square pool represents heaven and earth.   The square is earth, heaven is the circle. Strangely enough, I can't find much written on the symbolism of the four pathways to "heaven."  Below, they are represented as stone bridges over the water.  At the actual temple, they are entry points to the circular landform.  

Perhaps the use of four here isn't as deliberate as the circle and square, but the concept of four being a symbolically rich number is prevalent.  The number four appears often in Hinduism and it's believed in that religion there are four paths to meet God.  The garden of Eden was believed to be accessed by four different rivers and, as such, many gardens mean to represent Eden have four waterways included in the design.  In Buddhism there are four noble truths.   In Islam, there are four sacred months and four archangels. In Judaism, during passover, there are four cups of wine to be drunk, four sons to be addressed and four questions to be asked.

Finally, perhaps most darkly -- there are four horsemen of the apocalypse...!

Musee de Quai Branly

It seems silly to post about the vertical garden at Musee de Quai Branly and fail to post photos of the more traditional landscape that abuts the building, designed by paysagiste Gilles Clément.  

 

The garden's biggest gesture is the installation of a massive glass wall - this is to protect the landscape from harsher winds that may pass along the Seine.  The pragmatist in me had doubts about this.  On the one hand, why use a plant palette that needs a glass wall to adjust its microclimate?  Also, a glass wall only looks good when it's clean.  A rainstorm and accumulated city dust will only make the space seem more bleak.

That said, it does present some creative uses for signage and announcing the space and events at the museum and does provide a necessary security measure.

The approach the restaurant-side of the museum is above.  Massive grasses and 'naturalistic' looking plants are placed in broad swaths.  It's refreshing to see such an enthusiastic departure from a more traditionally French landscape (not that I don't have a soft spot for Andre Le Nôtre).

Of course, the museum seemed to still be working out some kinks with the oversized plants.  This is apropos to yesterday's rant about public spaces being under pressure to have an 'instant' landscape and consequently planting things far too close together.

In other areas - this is facing the museum directly (through the glass wall) with the Seine behind me - plants were still struggling to establish. 

 

I suspect that they may have had some erosion issues here - perhaps water was pitching down the slope and eroding some of the soil and mulch away.  Again, these photos are from October 2007, and the museum was still quite new.  I took a brief glimpse of the landscape later, in September 2008, and it looked like it was evening out. 

The aggregate paving was interrupted by 'ancient' stone paving.  Scattered among the joints of these stones were glass cubes with anthropological objects encased with them.  A creative way to bring the museum's collection outside, though the glass was scuffing a bit, which compromised the clarity of the view.

Another gesture in the paving.

Dumbarton Oaks Paving Patterns

Last weekend I was able to spend quite a bit of time in Georgetown.  I was housesitting at a property almost directly across the street from Dumbarton Oaks, which of course, as a landscape architect and horticulturist, is a dream location.

On Friday I spent a few hours at the gardens to get some extra images for my library. (It's embarassing to admit, but most of my other Dumbarton Oaks photos were taken with a non-digital camera.  That's how long it's been since I've had a lengthy visit.  Shameful.)

There are obviously a wealth of photos that I'd like to share, but today, I'm just going to post photos of some of the different paving patterns.  Enjoy!

 

Gravel and Belgian Block at the Drive.

Random rectangular motor court. 

Diagonal running bond with stone steps and band.

Interrupted curving running bond with header edges.

Basket weave with soldier edges.

Diamond detail.

Tile with stone banding.

I wish I knew for sure what kind of stone this is! Anyone know?

Running bond with circle and diamond details. 

Stone pavers with gravel.

Stone pavers and aggregate with brick edging beyond.

 Knot detail.