I occasionally peruse a blog called Conch Scooter, which focuses on everyday life in Key West by a local. I appreciate his objective observation on "real" life in a place considered paradise by many outsiders and visitors. He posted an article on Nancy Forrester's Secret Garden, which brought back fond memories of the time I spent in the garden with Nancy herself, preparing to write the following essay.As I sat in the midst of the garden, the silence was broken only by the intermittent echoes of the wind chimes, the chirps of parrots and squawks of cockatoos, and rustling of fronds of an indeterminate number of palm trees. Wandering through the maze of green flora that grew at every level of my body, I made it sport to stop at the orchids that jettisoned out in a flurry of indescribable pinks, purples, oranges, whites and every shade in between to sniff their perfumes that emanate throughout the garden.
None captivated me so much as a small yellow bloom whose essence can only be described as the smelling salts of someplace near, if not in, Heaven. How appropriate that the flower’s face seemed to smile back at me. A sense of goodness hangs in the air here.
If you step from the sidewalk of Simonton into the alley-like structure of Free School Lane, you’ll find yourself at the gate of Nancy Forrester’s Secret Garden. Push through the wooden door, and you’ll find yourself in an Eden-like environment of succulent greenery and a dazzling spectrum of flowers and tropical birds. Depending upon the day or the time, you’ll likely see Nancy vigilantly tending the greenery or caring for the displaced parrots she’s taken in. She moves with a deliberate solitude, gray haired, and a look of weary grace upon her face. Nancy Forrester has a large weight upon her shoulders. As Key West is a tiny speck of land surrounded by Atlantic waters, Nancy’s parcel is the last wooded acre on the island. While so many see the value of the key’s real estate, too few realize the importance of the preservation of this piece of undeveloped property. Each day, she is burdened with the economic reality that keeping and maintaining this small natural sanctuary is looking bleaker and bleaker.
Purchased in 1969, the lot had been a refuse dump. Old Clorox bottles, china doll heads, and marbles from the Free School that had earlier stood nearby have been unearthed over the years. A large hole in the center of the garden had once housed her cousin’s crocodile. In 1993, Nancy opened the garden to the public. She asks for a donation of six dollars per visitor. To illustrate the delicate balance between survival and excess human visitation, 50 visitors are needed per day for operating expenses, while the garden cannot tolerate more than 100 people daily. Nancy has succumbed to the fact that visitors are not going to fund the maintenance of her garden.
The yard is a symphony of flora, anchored by four towering fruit trees, planted as seedlings brought over from South America over one hundred years ago by ship captains realizing Key West was an island surrounded by waters full of fish with little food actually available on the island. Meandering through the garden, one encounters palms, ferns, a multitude of flowers, and the Jurassic era leaves of the cycad plant. When asked what plants are toughest to cultivate, Nancy hesitated before replying that, as an environmental artist, she is not attempting to cultivate anything. “If it grows, fine. If not, that’s fine, too.” More than anything, she wants the visiting public to understand that the beauty of nature and the Latin names of the plants aren’t so important as the fact that we are losing our natural world. In Key West, this idea seems to fall on few listening ears. The exorbitant price of real estate on the island leaves it available to the wealthy who wish to own a retreat in paradise, which may be used for a few weeks or so of the year. She talks sadly of the construction of homes and the digging of swimming pools on every available sliver of land. With this thought in mind, she says, “A teaspoon of soil is just as beautiful as any orchid.”
Finding actual soil under one’s feet is not easy to do in Key West any longer. Real estate like this can fetch $250 per square foot and a developer could divide the garden into several sellable lots for resort or private use. One, two, or possibly several swimming pools could undoubtedly go into the ground here. Nancy sighs as she stares at the towering lime and sapodilla trees, possibly dwelling on the idea that someone could bulldoze these cornerstones of her garden in the name of progress…and money. Nancy explains how the old fruit trees give the garden its magic. “There’s an energy and feeling of awe of a big tree that cools the planet, takes toxins from the air, and holds the earth together.” Besides being impressed with the grandeur of these old trees, I learn of another facet of their environmental impact. The canopy of one of these trees has the cooling power equivalent to that of four air conditioners.
Nancy cares so deeply about what is happening to the land of Key West-the destruction of trees for expensive real estate, the digging of earth to install swimming pools. It drives her to continue her preservation of her acre of garden. She wants people to visit to see the beauty, but more than that, to realize the value and importance of trees, plants, and greenery to the environment. Admittedly, she lacks the rah-rah attitude so often necessary for raising funds to continue an endeavor, usually a lonely one, such as this. At 68, her biggest fear is that age will take away her fortitude, which is strong, to continue the never ending labor of nurturing the flora of this one acre Eden.
Ideally, she would love to see the state buy the land, and maintain personal control while easing the financial burden of the undertaking. Knowing this is unlikely to occur, Nancy continues to find new ways to fund her livelihood. She started inviting environmentally conscious people to get married in the garden. She calls them “green” friendly weddings. The public is encouraged to make tax deductible donations to her organization. And of course, for anyone lucky enough to stumble upon the gated entryway into Nancy Forrester’s Secret Garden while walking the streets of Old Town in Key West, go in, drop six bucks in the jar, and lose yourself for a little while in the scents, sounds, and visual delights of this magical place. If you see the yellow orchid, known as Mary’s Lemon Drop, smell it and inhale, and let your senses take over. Because, as Nancy says, “There needs to be little places left in the world.”
Nancy Forrester’s Secret Garden is located at 1 Free-School Lane, just off Simonton Street between Southard and Fleming.
Check out Nancy’s website for information on her garden, joining her organization, making donations, and weddings at
http://www.nfsgarden.com/.
Kipper took his first family vacation this summer. He rode down with us in the Tahoe to the island of Hilton Head in southeast South Carolina. The coastal land and its islands in this part of the state are known as the Low Country. Kipper didn’t seem to mind the 14 plus hour drive, and even seemed to bask in this extended opportunity to sleep on or between the backseat travelers. In fact, there was nary a complaint of boredom, hunger, nor confinement to a backseat shared with 3 humans.
Softened by the heavy, salted air that accompanies life on an island, Kipper quickly took to his new environment. Walking among the fallen needles of the pines that populate the island, he found plenty to sniff on his leashed walks. As a matter of fact, he greatly enjoyed his mid-evening walks along the ponds of the fairway behind the villa, which, in all honesty, were actually thinly veiled gator searches. One evening, we came upon a goodly sized fellow patiently and silently waiting, presumably, for an ill-timed passing of a creature that would satisfy his hunger until the next morning’s breakfast. If Kipper had in any way sensed the alligator at water’s edge, I’m confident he would have barked and postured (at a safe distance, of course) with the bravery of other notable South Carolinian dogs such as The Great Dog Chippy*, until the shrill and piercing barks sent the large reptile back into the peaceful, murky, and soundproof waters of the briny pond. If Kipper was ever ambushed by such an alligator, I’m quite certain he’d make an adequate meal, if not something of a delicacy, being Yankee blood and all. 
