Some days I just need a little inspiration to nudge me forward. A newly discovered, highly reliable source of personal inspiration is Gardens by Robert Pogue Harrison.

Ironically, I first checked this book out of the library as a likely-looking, short text. Likely to be sufficiently long and sufficiently dull to lull me to sleep on a business trip. I would be traveling via Amtrak and planned to seek respite from the monotonous click-clack of the railroad tracks by reading something, well, boring.

Near midnight, sitting on a bench in the train station at the onset of my trip, as I opened Gardens prepared to pass the time in tranquility until my train arrived. Instead I encountered joltingly rich writing. Literary writing. It woke me up!

Not wanting to lose a single gem of Robert Pogue Harrison's train of thought, I instantly fell into my bad habit of dog-earing the pages (so I would remember to come back to them later, of course). By the time the trip ended, six days later, I had finished the short book, and dog-eared almost every page! I am proud to say, however, that I did not write in the margins,  but made copious personal notes on my iPhone.

Even if you only have the smallest iota of free time, it would not be wasted on this book. There are that many great ideas in this skinny little volume.

The first chapter, "The Vocation of Care," examines in detail the origin of the relationship between humans and gardens, starting with ancient times. Ancient like Adam and  Eve. Like Odysseus. Like Jupiter.

Robert Pogue Harrison weaves a well-reasoned thread through the book, but each chapter is also independent, and stands quite well alone. The result: a book impossible to put down. If one does accidentally put it down, and return to it some while later, reading could be resumed at the start of any chapter. 

This is one of the most inspirational and surprising books I've ever read. (Surprising in a good way.)

BTW, after renewing the library's copy of Gardens once or twice, I finally returned it. I had purchased my own copy, and had painstakingly transferred all the dog-ears to my own book's pages, while uncreasing and flattening out the corners of the library copy.

If there is any chance you will like this book, just skip the library and buy yourself a copy. It's that good!

A new day;

a new observation