Somewhere in Texas between San Antonio and Dallas is a rock garden. Not what you’re thinking, not what I thought when I saw the signs stating, “World’s Best Rock Garden,” with an arrow pointing west.
Not being in any hurry and my curiosity piqued, I followed those signs. They led me to a place where I drove through weathered fence posts sporting a sign above the gateway, “Ol’ Pete’s Peaceful Rock Garden Ranch.” I liked Ol’ Pete already.
As I drove up to Ol’ Pete’s ramshackle cabin, I was astounded. It was a pristine mini-mansion in the middle of nowhere. I was even more astounded when I met him and his rock garden.
Ol’ Pete was the same age as me or thereabouts, early 30’s. He walked out and greeted me with a hearty handshake, a howdy-do, and a cold bottle of beer. Now I really liked Ol’ Pete, young as he was.
He was an engineer of some kind by trade and had grown up here with his daddy, Ol’ Pete the Fourth. With no prompting from me, he gave me the whole family history over unending cold beers in the shady breeze of his back porch. From there, I could see the front of the rock garden. More on the garden in a moment.
Ol’ Pete the First had been an immigrant fresh off the boat from Ireland. He disembarked in Charleston in early 1861 and for work fought on the Confederate side in that Great Misunderstanding Among the States.
A few months later, his kid brother Patrick landed in a Yankee port and got a job fighting for the Union. A few months later during some Western skirmish, Patrick was about to bayonet Ol’ Pete when they recognized each other, waited until dark, then headed west together to found this oasis in the middle of nowhere.
Ol’ Pete I and Patrick had been miners: knew rocks and digging and took a fondness to what they found here in Texas.
Living off the land, they spent their time cutting, carving, shaping rocks into various shapes. They sculpted flowers, scores of them, and dragonflies, butterflies and birds. In essence, they taught themselves and then taught Pete’s sons; Patrick never married.
The tradition had been established and it stuck; it’s stuck rock solid today.
Ol’ Pete II apparently introduced the idea of adding colored beads and stones to highlight the creations. A few were painted, but he was soon convinced that natural color is prettier.
Ol’ Pete III was the first to introduce power tools and metals. The family garden grew taller with metal supports. Sunflowers grew to 8-12 feet. They were amazingly beautiful rising up from beds of plants and flowers carved in stone. Yet the metal rebar or posts had always been coated in cement or something so that only rock textures showed.
My host’s dad was Ol’ Pete IV who focused more on the undergrowth, the smaller shrubs and plants to fill in the garden motif.
Ol’ Pete V is going even further, concentrating on the low growing, ground cover plant sculptures.
Get this. This man carves individual branches with leaves out of limestone.
After a tour of the garden, I asked him why he does it.
He just looked out from beneath his yellow CAT hat and said, “Look at it. You look at this garden and before long you start wondering. Then you wonder some more about different things, then you start wondering some more. Before you know it, you can’t stop wondering.”
He grew quiet for a minute, swallowed hard, and took a sip of beer, “My Daddy and Grandpap always said that this is a wonder garden. A magic garden. Yessir, I believe that it is. In fact, I know it is. Cain’t you feel it?”
I could feel it and I still do.
Their garden wasn’t that vast. It did not consume acres of land or even a hundred meters square. It was actually small and it needed to be. The impression was more intimate and detailed.
I could feel it and I still do.
Global English Tutor - Paul Cuadrado 