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Fort Worth Japanese Garden
URL:Goto this web site  http://www.fwbg.com/japanese.htm 
Name:Fort Worth Japanese Garden garden photo
Fort Worth Japanese Garden
Photo: Gary S. Lukich, Sr.

Alternate Name:Fort Worth Botanic Garden 
Address:3220 Botanic Garden Blvd 
Mailing Address: 
City:Fort Worth 
Postal Code:76107 
Latitude/Longitude:lat=32.738769; long=-97.361504
Find Gardens Nearby
Weather:current weather 
Contruction Date:Botanic Garden site established in 1934; Japanese Garden begun in 1970. 
Hours:Botanic Garden open daily 8am; gates locked at 11pm; Closed half day on Christmas and New Year's Days
Conservatory: Mon-Fri, 10am - 9pm, Sat 10am - 6pm, Sun 1pm - 6pm
Japanese Garden: November - March, open every day except Christmas, 10am - 5pm; April - October, open every day, 9am - 7pm.
Entry gates close 30 minutes prior to closing time. 
Admission:Botanic Garden free.
Conservatory: Adults $1, Seniors $0.50, children 4-12, $0.50, 4 and under, free
Japanese Garden:
  Adults, $2,50 weekends, $2 weekdays
  Children ages 4-12, $1
  Seniors, $0.50 off regular admission
  Children under 4, free
  Tour groups and special activity groups pay regular admission on weekdays. 
Added to JGarden:7/8/2000 
Last Updated:10/23/2005 

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.

  John M. Steadman
  20th Century

©1996-2002, Robert Cheetham; ©2019 Japanese Garden Research Network, Inc.
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