I was recently in South Carolina for the American Institute of Architects (AIA) Young Architects Forum (YAF) annual meeting. We met one another in person for the first time in over a year due to the pandemic. It was a fun and productive trip that reminded me to think outside my Seattle-based bubble more often and that the experience of being an architect varies significantly from state to state.
Before my flight home, I visited a 400-acre garden called Magnolia Gardens, claiming to be the last large-scale romantic-style garden. As I started strolling the winding azalea-lined paths, through Spanish moss-covered trees, over bridges and ponds, I kept wishing more people had access to gardening. Gardens have always enamored me. The quiet, underlying story I see in a garden is about care and investment. It takes time and the opportunity of land to grow and cultivate an affordable garden.
While walking, I thought about how lucky I am for my current living situation and the small garden I am in the process of designing and building. My partner purchased a home about a year ago and then invited me to live with him. Before that, I was a renter whose hopes of buying a house were pie-in-the-sky dreams due to a combination of student loan debt, a career with an unglamorously moderate-income potential, and the insane Seattle home prices. Unfortunately, I know that struggle to be a widespread reality for most people.
I am experiencing so much peace and stability knowing where my home will be next year and the year after that. It is unfair that more people are not allowed that security. The system seems designed to keep people away from that security, to keep them wanting and reaching. I reject the thought that knowing where you can sow your seeds is a privilege and not a right.
In working towards tomorrow, there is an escape from the present. Dreaming of how a flower will bloom is an act of optimism that can overcome the stresses of the present. A plant will almost certainly grow if provided with the correct amounts of sun, water, and soil; there is a simple formula to follow for the desired outcome. That feeling of certainty is challenging to find these days. I believe everyone is entitled to this liberation from the present through small assurances about the future. And while gardening is may not be the hobby for everyone, I hope we all can experience the gift of having the time and space required for a thing within us to grow and bloom.