May-October, Mon-Fri 10am - 5pm, Sat 10am - 4pm, Sun Noon-4pm including Memorial Day, Labor Day and Independence Day Closed Nov-April
Adults $5, Students $3, Seniors $4, children 4 and under are free
Added to JGarden:
The inspiration for Anderson Gardens began in 1966 during John Anderson's first trip to Japan. There he met a family friend, Mr. Akira Ohno, President of Morinaga Milk Industries of Tokyo, who gave him an in-depth look at the Japanese people and their culture. When the land was acquired for a new home site, John and Linda Anderson realized that the property had the potential to be an excellent setting for a Japanese garden. With the Andersons' strong interest in Japanese culture, they decided to start development of a Japanese-style garden.
Construction of the Anderson Gardens began in 1978. The gardens have been designed and built by Hoichi Kurisu. Mr. Kurisu came to the United States in 1968 accepting the position of Director of Landscaping at the Japanese garden complex in Washington Park Gardens, Portland, Oregon. He had graduated from Tokyo's Waseda University and spent several years studying under Mr. Kenzo Ogata, one of Japan's most renowned landscape designers. Mr. Kurisu has his own landscape design and construction firm in Portland. The garden was recently donated to an area non-profit to be managed.
This pond and stroll garden is renowned for its stonework, hidden water features and exceptional carpentry. The sukiya-style machiai
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.