It was a perfect early spring night in the newly gentrified area of the Bronx, New York. Where I found myself waiting in line to enter what mirrored a fantastical world of plants. Attending the New York Botanical Garden’s Orchid Nights Exhibit was nothing short of enchanting. While waiting to enter, memories of doing the same with my Mom every spring; visiting and enjoying the spectacle of the Philadelphia Flower Show as a child, was a full circle moment.
Placed across the street from the prestigious Fordham University, the New York Botanical Garden (NYBG) awaited me and other patrons eager to enter the gates after hours. It felt exclusive, like a private showing even though, it was an open and publicized event in the New York Times. The moon was full, the air was slightly humid, yet crisp. Making the atmospheric beauty of the night lend to my forgetting we were in NYC and surrounded by Burroughs. It was horticultural heaven as I along with 100 or more people walked through the raw iron gates and entered a shadowy though illuminating forests trail, leading to the main event. The evening air smelled of fresh florals like perennials, peonies, lilacs and healthy oak trees.
If I could have bottled it up, I would. I attended this event only two months and a few weeks after my Mother’s passing. Struggling to accept my very new normal has been tremendously difficult and I needed a break. After a session of carelessly scrolling through social media I happened to come across a NYT’s article on the Orchid Nights exhibit at the NYBG. Then I thought, why not? So, I purchased a ticket for my nephew and me and we took a Saturday excursion to New York City. The day was full of foodie discoveries and amazing museum exhibits, leading up to the Orchid Nights event.
Passing through the beautifully maintained garden to reach the grand greenhouse, which, was full of exotic orchid species, countless visitors wandering with cocktails in hand and evening banter galore. Helped me to escape my mourning, even if only for an evening. The extensive assortment of orchids exhibited in a wide array of vibrant hues was striking. From the palest of pink to the deepest flamingo. NYBG offered each attendee a healthy balance of historical background on each species and visual stimulation for all the senses. Especially, the eyes and nose. Now, granted orchids don’t have a distinct scent but the overall garden was full of invigorating plant life, that felt like we were emersed in an unearthed forest before human disturbance. It allowed me to embody thoughts of peace, serenity and exploration.
And just like in New York City style, the exhibit also explored the world of fashion using natural florals, as well. Creating the stylish looks on fanciful humanoid creatures made of flowers, plants and other natural textualizations from head-to-toe. The talented creators spanned from across the globe to add their visuality and textile expertise to each display. One standout display was the frog which, resembled a much chicer version of what I imagine the character Mr. Toad would look like, from one of my favorite childhood books The Adventures of Mr. Toad. A gorgeous spectacle of dried florals as a sleeveless blouse and trousers made up of succulents. The details were so intricate for each display, exhibiting hours and hours of manpower to create such pomp and circumstance.
Every corner of the elegant and architecturally timeless greenhouse, including the external illuminated pathways, the serene fountains and small ponds. Both the wet and dry forests and the botanical garden in its entirety, provided a genuine reprieve. I left the New York Botanical Garden feeling tranquil, encouraged and with an open sensory for more understanding of plant life; including the purchase of my very own orchid. Driving back from New York City feeling closer to my mom in this very new normal, with more preparedness to endure the ebbs and flows of grieving than ever before. Now, when I hear the colloquialism “go outside and touch grass” it’s never been a more sincere phrase.
Who would have known that this absolute retreat of plant life extravagance would allow my consciousness and subconscious, to take a recess and reset. Though, only for a few hours to immerse myself in the curious garden of exotic plants with strangers in the Bronx.
