Recently I migrated every post from the original Elizabeth Lawrence House & Garden blog, which was begun in 2009 and on the Blogger platform (not integrated into the Wing Haven website, as this one is). I’m embarrassed to say it took me this long to realize that so many old posts were never migrated over to this blog! Well, I’m glad I finally realized it, and then recreated all of them here. Now we have a complete running narrative (in one place) from the time the Wing Haven Foundation purchased this richly inspiring historic landmark.

The other good thing about my belated awareness and subsequent recreation work is that I re-read every post. In so doing, I realized that there are more layers to some of those topics than meets the eye, and what has been learned in the years since the posts were written should be shared.

After the Wing Haven Foundation purchased the Elizabeth Lawrence House & Garden in 2008, a small group of advisors helped Wing Haven staff figure out exactly what needed to be done to make this property safe and pleasing for the soon-to-be visiting public. They looked at aspects of this former private home and garden and what needed to be addressed to make it a public property. In that process, most of the projects dealing with garden structure resulted in redoing things, which resulted in changes being made. Now, I want to be completely clear about this: at the time, these changes were agreed to by everyone, and seemed reasonable… and even like the right thing to do.

The projects were all completed by mid-2010, months prior to my being hired (November 2010). In my almost 12 years here, I have learned a lot about historic landscape preservation. Heading the list is historic integrity. According to the U.S. Department of the Interior:

Historic integrity is the ability of a property to convey its historical associations or attributes.

Without getting too deeply into it—because I don’t want your eyes to glaze over—there are seven aspects of historic integrity: location, setting, design, materials, workmanship, feeling and association. So, with this in mind… in a nutshell, the top rules in my work as Garden Curator are:

1. Don’t touch anything until you understand it. Historic integrity cannot be restored.

2. Without historic integrity, the historic fiber of the property erodes exponentially. Without historic integrity or historic fiber, it’s just another garden/landscape. (Refer to the end of #1.)

3. Even if the original purpose/method isn’t clear, take time to research in order to better understand the creator’s use/intent. (Again, refer to #1.)

4. Alteration is okay only if the original feature/structure poses a threat or is unsafe.

Since I have a nerdy brain that tends to think in terms of this-or-that, I created this pseudo-mathematical type of equation:

No integrity = Just another garden 

Just another garden = NOT Elizabeth Lawrence’s intent

NOT Elizabeth Lawrence’s intent = Failure; therefore, 

No integrity = Failure

(I realize the term “failure” may seem a bit harsh, but a property of this historical significance needs to be taken seriously, and managed with high standards.)

Now that you’ve gotten the bare-bones low-down on historic preservation (there is really SO much more to it!), and if you read the post “Garden Structure” from March 20, 2010, you can probably tell where this might be going.

And now seems like a good time to reiterate my disclaimer from earlier: at the time, all of the changes that were made were agreed to by everyone, and seemed reasonable… and even like the right thing to do.

What I have learned is that how many of these garden structure projects were done has ended up being the unfortunate thing.

By re-imagining and building the garden walls anew, the historic integrity of this major component of Elizabeth Lawrence’s design was obliterated. With more research into Lawrence’s writings, it would have come to light that she was greatly inspired by what she studied in Gertrude Jekyll’s Wall & Water Gardens—specifically the dry-stacked retaining walls illustrated in the section on “Rock-Garden Construction”. Elizabeth’s purpose was two-fold: to mark elevation change in her garden, and to utilize the retaining walls as space to cultivate alpine plants. By understanding the creator’s inspiration and intent, we begin to understand why the walls had a “rubbled down” effect. They were never intended to be so … well, intentional. The plants were/are the star of the garden, not the built structure.

Elizabeth Lawrence was a very learned person, especially when it came to design. Aside from knowledge she gained as the first female graduate of the first landscape architecture program taught in the South, she studied design in one form or another all of her adult life. She really was a brilliant designer. Elizabeth Lawrence had an innate sense of space and proportion; she masterfully created balance without symmetry. This is what makes her garden so successful even to this day. By studying her, I have learned that everything she did—and how she did it—had purpose… purpose which went far beyond what met the eye. The subtlety of the low walls, as they were originally built, allowed for pockets of planting space in between and on top of the stones, as well as retained soil, and gave the garden a humbler, easier effect. The perceived “imperfection” of the construction conveyed to eye that they were done by hand, lending a personal craftsmanship to the space. This garden was—and still is—an intimate one. The original building method would have reinforced that feeling.

The best historic properties remind you of their creators at every turn. They echo the past in all ways possible. They envelop you in their unique story, and transport you back in time.

That is why you now see imperfect rock walls in Elizabeth Lawrence’s garden. Little by little, I am working to bring back some of the character and utility of the walls as they were originally designed, intended and built. I can’t restore the historic integrity of the walls, but I sure can make them feel a bit more like they used to, which is, thankfully, the next best thing.

Yours in Dirt, (and rock walls and history)

Andrea