When you step outside your front door, this is what you see. Part of the private, peaceful garden surrounding the Cottage, consciously cultivated over the course of years as a sanctuary and place of rest and refreshment for the weary traveler. Also, an intentional celebration of how very rich, alive and green this subtropical area once was (and not so very long ago), before being broken, leveled, and filled by the relentless hand of man, and finally interred under a mantle of cold hard cement.
Here is a photo taken from about the same location, in January 2003. At that point we could have no idea about the wonderful coral reef that lay intact in its ancient beach sand only a few feet underneath the concrete, just to the left of where the photographer would have been standing:
Or, for that matter, what shape or form the garden would take as it was conceived, planted, and tended along the way. I suppose that is a large part of the pleasure of a garden. Concrete needs neither maintenance nor tending, but offers up relatively little in return where it is not needed.
The Miami River, when the Earth was younger.
Should you come and take a moment and stand on this spot, you'll likely hear the sound of wind chimes high up in the trees, strummed by the bay's breezes, and hear or see a few birds of different kinds drop in for a little peace and quiet.
Time passes differently in a garden, and more sweetly. It's easy to forget how very close you are to the center of a huge, sprawling, and very urban Miami. And that's the way we like it.
A garden view of the Lost Reef. The bust of the Buddha above was shattered by a coconut falling from far above, and pieced back together by yours truly with coral rock, resin, and paint. Some of the rock was left to show as part of his shoulder. That seemed right, somehow. Some wonderful guests from France christened it "Buddha de la mer," or "Buddha of the Sea," which also feels just right. We hope that you will, too.
