This 6-acre garden was patterned after Korakuen in Okayama, San Jose's sister city. It's open park-like plan is different from the stereotypical Japanese garden, but this one still includes familiar elements such as koi ponds, streams, waterfall, and a teahouse. Plantings include cherries, acer palmatum, willow, irises and redwood.
Barrett Dick. "Friendship Garden Well Worth Visiting." San Jose News. July 28, 1971, pp 1,21.
Conn, Kenneth S. "Real Tea House Opening in Kelly Park Friday." San Jose News, July 30, 1970, pp 1-2.
Cummings, Clover. "New Japanese Garden: Friendship Takes Tangible Form." San Jose Mercury-News Magazine. October 31, 1965, p 10.
Doss, Margo Patterson. "Japanese Gardens and Old San Jose." San Francisco Chronicle Magazine, May 25, 1986, p 6.
Gerlitz, Bert. "San Jose Builds A Japanese-American Friendship Garden." Western City. May 1966, pp 33-34.
"Japanese to Help Dedicate Teahouse:112-man Delegation from Sister City." San Jose News. May 17, 1970, pp 1-7.
Saihoji Temple, Kyoto
Actuality is emblem here: a walled-in garden
With its hieroglyph of the heart a lake with lotuses,
And its stones and trees a figure of ascent
From painted maze and sensuous paradise
To the Pure Land of the mind, the interior garden.
All paths wind inward to this inward mirror --
Reflecting-pool of primitive solitude --
Where the mind, quiescent, meditates its shadow,
In the garden's Heart this cipher of the heart.
Some bonze cropped bald by wisdom's scythe, to glean
In Chinese glaosses on the Sakya sage
Reality's scattered kernels, planted here
A green and less laborious commentary:
Perpetual witness of the perfect stillness.
Only the moss speaks still, a living scroll;
From the lakeshore to the hillside a silver-green
Page of continuous discourse where the foot moves
More soundlessly that thought along the paths laid
Over ten centuries ago
For the saints rehearsing sutras.
Their path unfolding in a single text,
They moved on an obscure way more quietly
Than the arhat's mantras or the lohan's prayer;
And bruised no stone, no grasses in their passing,
The ground of their desire inviolate.
Nameless, they merged into indifferent turf,
Engrossed in one impartite grace of green,
Their separate deaths lost in this single life --
Men without memory, without distinction.
Though earth assumes them like a scroll rolled up,
The path is fragrant still because they passed here.