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We’re still processing what happened in June. It was a busy month. We welcomed members for our first Wine & Wander evening, watched beautiful cyanotypes emerge from leaves and flowers, celebrated our volunteers around a swimming pool, deepened friendships with members and visitors, and watched our Emerging Horticultural Leaders become even more confident in the garden. Oh, and we rubbed elbows with folks from public gardens across North America. Each moment was meaningful. Together, they felt like a turning point. San Francisco was the site for the American Public Gardens Association national conference ithis year, bringing together public garden professionals from across North America. Justin gave two presentations, Kat attended with a coveted Garden Scholar award, and I joined my first Director’s Summit. Then, on Friday morning, a bus carrying fifty-five colleagues pulled into Occidental for a visit to Western Hills Garden. It was thrilling. And a bit daunting. We put out coffee and tea, picked up some of the famous Freestone Wild Flour bread, and set out a wonderful jar of jam left behind the week before by a board member visiting from Miller Botanical Garden. I welcomed everyone and shared a bit about about our vision, Kat told the story of the garden’s remarkable past, and Justin oriented everyone to the grounds. Then everyone dispersed into the garden to wander the paths. I found myself sitting with a couple of folks in the Commons while the rest were meandering. It was quiet, which was surprising given the number of people onsite. I took that as a good sign. When we rang the bell to reconvene, Betsy Flack, one of our esteemed Horticultural Advisory Committee members, said a few words about what this place once was, what it is carrying on today, and what it is turning into. It was an affirming moment. During the conference, I occasionally found myself wondering if we were taking on a project that was too new, too under-resourced, and perhaps too ambitious. The larger, more established gardens have decades of institutional knowledge, deep teams, and remarkable collections. I found myself marveling at what time, commitment, and deep support can make possible. But I also came home with a renewed appreciation for being small and scrappy. It gives us the freedom to experiment, to learn by doing, and to change course when we need to. Beginner’s mindset has always been a touchstone for this place. We continue that tradition. At the end of the day, we are excited about what we're creating. A place where horticulture, art, education, and community come together in ways that are intentionally rooted in this landscape. Sometimes a month is just a month.
And sometimes it's a glimpse of what's possible.
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