Vertical rocks form the pond’s bank.
A row of young bamboo trees screens the stonework beyond.
A stone water basin in the Seiryu-en tea garden denotes a nearby teahouse.
Entering a diaphanous pink universe.
A sprig of cherry at the pond’s edge.
HEIAN JINGU SHRINE GARDEN
Entering this shrine’s garden is like floating into a lush floral bed. In April when hanging cherry trees shelter the visitor under graceful blossom-filled limbs, Heian Jingu might be the most inviting place on earth. For a few moments, the world becomes a diaphanous realm of pinks.
The relatively new shrine and garden, modeled on the original palace, were constructed in 1892 to commemorate the eleven hundredth anniversary of the founding of Kyoto, “The Capital of Tranquility and Peace.” Reconstructed on a two-thirds scale, shrine and grounds retained the symmetrical style of Chinese courtyards with a main hall flanked by two smaller, attached halls painted brilliant vermilion and crowned with green roof tiles.
The vast front expanse of white gravel represents an ancient, sacred area (yuniwa) where visitors may approach the gods. Two trees, a cherry and a trifoliate orange, are symbolic floral representations of the geomantic principles of in and yo, dark and light, female and male.
A gate to the left of the main buildings opens onto the renowned stroll garden. Court life twelve hundred years ago emphasized learning Chinese language, literature, and poetry, as well as performing rituals, many of which were conducted in the garden. Geomancy guided the hand of the nobles who took great pride in constructing their gardens to welcome auspicious spirits and rebuff inauspicious ones. Ponds were an essential feature, as were slender streams. Their curving passage irrigated the grounds while evoking scenes of distant places and feeding the poetic muse of the inhabitants.
Too tempting not to touch.
Clad in white, a Shinto priest gently sweeps a mound of moss.
Echoes of greenery in the pond.
A sun-suffused maple.
Leaving the flat, white courtyard, the visitor descends gentle stairs to a path that passes under the billowing cherry blossoms of spring or the russet and peach-colored leaves of autumn. Soft mounds of moss mingle along the path with delicate plantings of flora. Many of these plants have medicinal or culinary uses and are represented in ancient paintings and poetry. The grey stone bridges over a stream provide a cool counterpoint to the lush landscape.
After the path winds under wisteria trellises, the view widens to reveal a landscape of large ponds fringed with thousands of irises. Throughout late May and June, they bloom resplendently in shades from soft lavender to deep violet, interspaced with pure white. One ancient variety is carefully removed and replanted each year to preserve the purity of the species. Throughout July and August, the palette changes to the bright hues of the water lilies that cover the pond. The round steppingstones that once served as the pillars of an old bridge curve, sensuous as a dragon’s tail, through the water.
To the north, the hydrangeas that bloom in late spring fill the off-path areas with blues and pinks.
A turn east reveals a Chinese-style bridge, once part of a former palace, that spans the water, allowing visitors to linger for a last look at the pond. Its smooth surface is disturbed only by the occasional emergence of resident koi and turtles, and by the graceful reflection of the carved phoenix atop the covered bridge.
Radiant maple leaves. Sensuous surface of a banana leaf. Vermilion pavilion with green roof tiles and a cherry-blossom topping. Foliage, once above, now floats below.
Ogawa Jihei (1860–1933), a prolific landscape artist who planned many of the estates in this area of town, is credited with the design. The garden, although it has been replanted and altered to suit modern tastes and horticultural advances, is one of the most beautiful examples of an ancient stroll garden. It immerses visitors in a holistic experience that melds poetry and landscape.
Boulders anchor the granite slab that leads to an isle in the pond.
Architectural elegance—the pond’s covered bridge.
A chance to reflect from a favorite rest spot.
KENNIN-JI TEMPLE GARDEN
On the south border of Gion, Kennin-ji sits at the heart of Kyoto. The city has many classic Zen gardens, but Kennin-ji’s rock and sand landscape—free from the distractions that fragrant or colorful flowers might bring—offers a respite from the noisy, bustling world just outside its grounds and an opportunity for quiet contemplation.
This Rinzai Zen sect temple recently redesigned its gardens using splendid examples of the enduring tradition of karesansui (dry gardens). Rather than delight the senses, karesansui settles the heart and clears the mind by directing thoughts inward.
Designers of Zen gardens were greatly influenced by 14th and 15th century Chinese Sung Dynasty ink brush painting. In these misty and elegant works, clouds drift among distant, craggy mountains that dwarf the cliff-hugging hermitages of the immortals, reducing the sentient world to insignificance. Strong strokes of black ink dissolve into wispy grey as the brush leaks its life-giving moisture onto the rice paper. The viewer’s small place within this universe provided a template for Zen gardeners.
Unpapered lattice doors frame a view of the main garden.
Listening to the silence.
An appreciative kimono-clad bevy of young women.
Meticulous care transforms moss into more than a simple groundcover.
Trying to capture the garden.
The temple’s karesansui garden is sparsely landscaped with swirls of raked gravel surrounding a low rock dotted with a miniscule patch of moss. Another garden in the complex features a moss-covered rise set with several upright stones representing Shakyamuni Buddha and two attendants. Slender maple boughs paint the moss with filtered light.
Yet another garden contains a perfect circle of raked gravel. With no footprint or hint of human intervention,