A Garden Reprieve

The stone from the gazebo is cool against my skin in the hot humid DC summer. I sit in the window with my feet stretched out in front of me, my book in my hands. It's a weekday and aside from a couple mothers with their small children enjoying a picnic on the grass I am the only one in the garden.

In a year when life seemed to throw me curveball after curveball I need quiet. I need a place where I can escape into my thoughts and my book. A place where I can be at peace. Without fail I knew I'd find it in the gardens of the National Cathedral.

Not simply an enclave for the religious, it’s a place where people come for calm. To escape the loud fast-paced life of the City. The honking of car horns and yelling in the street disappear the moment you walk through the wooden doors hidden in the stone wall. Even children start to whisper when then enter, seemingly afraid to disturb anyone sitting nearby.

From the gazebo you get spectacular view of the purple and blue flowers that bloom throughout the garden. You can even smell the herbs that grow nearby. And, you have one of the more picturesque views of the Cathedral itself. Framed by the windows the spires rise up to the sky and for a moment you’re transported out of DC and into medieval England—you’re left waiting to glimpse friars and flying nuns.

Regular visitors rarely speak to one another. I’m struck by an elderly man I’ve seen on one or two other occasions. He’s strolled in by a nurse and parked near the roses. He doesn’t read a book, he doesn’t do the crossword, and he doesn’t doze in the afternoon sun, he just sits and watches. He’ll stay that way for an hour until his nurse returns to wheel him out. And, he’ll be back next week to do the same.

On the weekends, in the warmer months, the garden--still quiet--bursts to life. Children run through the grass, parents talk about their week, college students from nearby American University bask in the sun.

It’s not a normal tourist destination. It’s a community gathering. A watering hole without the water. A hidden treasure for those that know about it. I’ve visited the garden dozens of times. I’ve sat in the same window a dozen times and yet, at every turn I see something new. A pair chairs tucked away under a staircase, a bench buried in weight of a tree. Hidden pathways to more remote locations ready to be explored.