Leslie Silko - Gardens in the Dunes

Later, Laura’s family received the property in the settlement of an old debt. The house was abandoned, and the gardens were in ruins by then; the bougainvilleas and red climbing roses had gone wild; the great mounds of yellow day lilies overgrew their parterres and spread into the lawn. The grottoes and formal gardens had been stripped of their marble figures and the terraces stripped of marble balustrades and marble vases.

The first time Laura and her brother came there, they had no idea what lay beyond, in the dense foliage in the dark woods. They ventured down the path to see where the water went. It wasn’t until they stopped at the first grotto and looked back that she caught a glimpse of something in the deep undergrowth, where an eroded embankment had collapsed to reveal the head and forelegs of a stone centaur. They found a minotaur spying from the shrubbery in the same area, and when a careful survey was made after the first discoveries, a Medusa head was discovered at the foot of an embankment. Hattie and Edward murmured appreciatively, but Edward was disappointed to learn the statues were only late eighteenth century; still, the pieces were quite fascinating. Only recently, after a fierce storm toppled a great many old trees in the sacro bosco , workmen discovered a stone grotto behind a wild thicket, tangled with fallen trees and debris from old landslides.

From the fountain and enclosed garden, four stone steps descended to the lawn of the formal garden, shaded by great trees. The morning light played through the canopy of leaves and Indigo saw more colors of green than she ever imagined — river green, mossy green, willow green, oak leaf green, juniper green, green-golden-green, and shades of grass green all around. She twirled herself around in the delicious green shade as the parrot squawked joyously; around and around she danced, as happy as she had been since she and Sister were parted.

The cries of the parrot attracted the blackbirds they’d seen the evening before. Hattie remarked on the size of the flock; in Bath she remembered only the two or three blackbirds in her aunt’s garden. Oh, this area was always known for its population of blackbirds; these hills were thick with hazels and oaks; the local people used to call the run-down old villa the blackbird palace even after she and her husband completed repairs and moved in.

How interesting, Hattie thought; her aunt hadn’t mentioned a husband. Was her husband abroad now? Almost as soon as she spoke, Hattie sensed something was wrong. Laura stopped on the path and smiled. She apologized for any confusion: she and her husband were no longer together. Hattie was so surprised at this remark she stammered inanely that she was sorry. Oh, there was nothing to apologize for; all was for the best.

Quickly Hattie turned her attention to the empty stone pedestals and empty niches in the graceful garden walls as Laura explained her reluctance to replace the missing figures with copies; new marble was too bright and would spoil the serenity of the greenery and its subtle shifts of light. When her husband’s military command was ordered to Eritrea, she hoped he might obtain interesting stone figures on his visits to Cairo. Hattie glanced about but saw no stone figures; the lichens and tiny ferns and mosses had taken hold on the niches and pedestals where they found just the shade and the sun to thrive. Their eyes met for an instant and Hattie realized the plan to obtain old stone figures from Cairo had gone astray with the husband.

Laura paused to watch Indigo and the parrot on the lawn as they played tag; the parrot waddled after the girl with his wings outstretched and flapping for speed; then the girl chased the parrot as he fled with squawks and ruffled feathers. Shaded by the great lindens and oaks, they played and played; from time to time the parrot flapped his wings fast enough to lift himself so that for a few seconds Indigo scarcely felt him on her shoulder except where he held fast with his feet.

What a sweet child — they were fortunate to have adopted her, Laura commented as they paused in the shade. Hattie felt her cheeks redden and she tried to choose her words carefully. Oh no, they were not so lucky as that. The child was only placed with them for the summer. Hattie could not stop herself — she felt she must explain how the school personnel mistreated the child, that as soon as they returned to the United States they would go to Arizona to search for Indigo’s family.

Edward turned back on the path to rejoin them, although the path continued through another stone archway. He wasn’t interested in any more old gardens stripped of their ornaments; he preferred to see the hybrid gladiolus; even the crude artifacts of the old Europeans would be more interesting.

Laura glanced up at the sun to judge the time; she had more to show them before lunch. A stream diverted from the hills behind the house fed a stone-paved rill that emptied into a long narrow pool of dwarf papyrus and yellow lotus flowers. The water flowed from the end of the pool into another stone rill that followed the driveway to the edge of the woods; here the waterway abruptly disappeared into heavy foliage.

Two weathered stone pillars dappled with lichens were visible in the lush foliage that marked the entrance to the old woods where the stone figures were found. Laura led the way down the overgrown path. Indigo followed with the parrot on her shoulder, and Hattie and Edward came along behind. As they went deeper into the woods, the parrot settled quietly on Indigo’s shoulder, alert for danger.

The path was overgrown with laurel and myrtle but the coolness and the shade were inviting, and Indigo found a variety of lovely ferns and mosses growing between the stones of the path that gradually descended as it went deeper into the dark green pines and cedars with their bowers of box elders, chestnuts, and great oaks. Rainbow clutched her shoulder tighter and leaned forward, flapping his wings, his feathers ruffled with excitement as he looked at the forest all around them. They played a game — Indigo walked slower and slower, which caused Rainbow to lean forward, eager to go faster, and he flapped his wings harder as if to make Indigo speed up. Then Indigo pretended the breeze from his wings was pushing her along with magical power to make her fly. As she walked faster and faster, Rainbow squawked with delight, and as they raced past Laura on the path, Indigo laughed out loud.

Now and then Hattie recognized azaleas and rhododendrons among the overgrown holly and brambles; otherwise Hattie would have believed they were in a primordial forest. The others walked ahead, but Hattie was content to take her time to appreciate what became of even the most elegant gardens over time. She stopped to appreciate the natural effect accomplished with the lindens and elms with the plane trees of a lighter green; as she turned, she was startled to see a creature gazing at her through the twisted branches of a holly tree.

The life-size stone face and bare chest were human, but legs and body were those of a horse. In the foliage so close to the path it appeared almost alive and gave her a terrible start that left her heart pounding. She stopped to catch her breath, face-to-face with the centaur, his hindquarters partially buried in the eroded hillside. Just then Laura came back to rejoin her, while the child and her parrot went ahead with Edward.

They sat on a shady, lichen-covered rock near the centaur as Laura explained the dilemma she had faced: to free the figure of the centaur from his stronghold of earth-slide debris would have required the sacrifice of a young chestnut tree and a bower of azaleas and rhododendrons. The centaur was nicely carved but he was only a copy and was more interesting just as he was, emerging out of the earth. Hattie agreed; this way he was quite dramatic.