Big trees inspire Oaklanders to make small versions

Serene, zen-like and tucked away among the community gardens of Lake Merritt's Adams Point area, a forest in miniature awaits your eyes. Secluded behind Japanese-style walls, the gem you will find is the Bonsai Garden at Lake Merritt.

An informational brochure and a laminated tree guide are given to you as you enter, a cyclical path of potted trees spread out to either side. Warm smiles greet you, attentive to your every question as a large journey through cultural history awaits you on a small scale.

"Bonsai, 'pot culture' in Japanese, captures the essence of giant trees and forests in miniature," reads the brochure. With a sweat-glistened brow, Bob Gould, a volunteer and guide at the garden, says the goal of a piece is not only to recreate the look of an old, mature tree, but to capture the struggle for life many plants must endure in nature.

This tradition was originally brought over from mainland China. The Japanese then spent the next 800 years perfecting the technique and turning it into an art form that now transcends cultural boundaries.

Traditionally, bonsai plants were used as gifts among the upper class, and one of the most famous gifts to grace this garden is a Daimyo Oak, called the Abraham Lincoln. In 1863, the U.S. Ambassador to China stopped in Japan on his way back to the states, where he received this plant and gave it as a gift to the then sitting President Lincoln.

Gould says that getting this garden off the ground was a long struggle. The concept for this garden came in the late 80s and is a joint venture between the bonsai clubs of Northern California. The woman integral to its fruition was Gloria Clemenson. Selling all of her bonsai plants, the $10,000 she raised became the seed money for this project.

The next step was finding a suitable location. In 1995 after talks with then Oakland Mayor Jerry Brown, a deal was struck and a lease was entered making Adams Point the home of the Bonsai Garden at Lake Merritt. Construction soon began and the garden opened its doors in November, 1999.

"Bonsai trees require constant maintenance," says Gould, "There is always something to be done on a tree." To aid in this process, a foster program has been implemented at the garden that allows volunteers to sponsor a plant. The volunteer can come by and the curator, Kathy Shaner, will show them what needs to be done. Shaner is honored in Japan as a "Master of Bonsai." A person can also pay money to sponsor a plant and one of the onsite volunteers can perform the maintenance.

With a fully brimmed straw hat that sits protectively upon his head, Gould says that taper in the trunk of a plant and its branches is essential in creating believability. In the back area, where rows upon rows of bonsai plants are set upon work benches, he points to a shimpaku juniper, which tends to have nice, soft leaves in comparison to the junipers that adorn most people's yards.

He says movement in the trunk, which resembles zig-zagging or deformity, represents a tree that has been subject to heavy snow, a landslide, or harsh winds in nature. Captured here is the struggle to survive which characterizes eons of life.

Here at the Bonsai Garden at Lake Merritt, it was a struggle to get this project off the ground, and it is a continuing struggle to maintain it. However, it is not struggle that you will find here. This place is where old trees go to find new life. Perhaps mirroring the plants here, many of the staff are retirees who have found new life in the art form known as bonsai. All were very friendly and open to showing me the styles and techniques used in bonsai, emphasizing the love they have for this Japanese tradition.

The quote, "The irony of commitment is that it's deeply liberating--in work, in play, in love," (Anne Morris--inscribed on The Way I See It series of Starbucks coffee cups), applies aptly to the all-volunteer staff that is dedicated to this garden that freely opens its doors to the public.

Janice Dilbeck is one such volunteer. "I didn't have a green thumb and I didn't even know what a juniper tree was," says Dilbeck, her blue work gloves covered with the evidence of working on plants all day. However, after receiving a book on bonsai as a gift, she began taking classes and "things just clicked."

"Now I know what a juniper is," she says with a smile that matches the endearment of the St. Paul fur seal outlined on her green sweatshirt. In having to choose between going back to work in computers or bonsai, "bonsai wins."