This year the display is not as fabulous. There were a few very striking plants, but for the most part the display is in regeneration. In the place of 12 to 14 foot specimens, 2 to 3 foot plants were planted. Very few of these plants had any flowers on them at all. So why has this grand glen seen better days. The internet and SF gate's archive on it provide some of the answers. This is a part of an article published in 2001 written by Carl Nolte on the glen and its reconstruction.
Sometimes the biggest pleasures in life are the smallest -- the smell of
bay leaves, a stroll in the park to see the rhododendrons in bloom.
April was when the rhododendrons bloomed in the McLaren Memorial Rhododendron Dell in Golden Gate Park -- a famous sight, "a fabulous display . . . a pageant," wrote Katherine Wilson in her guidebook about the park. "One of the great botanical treasures of the world," wrote Margot Patterson Doss in her book about walking in the park.
But this year, April is the cruelest month. The rhododendron dell is only a shadow this spring of what it was. The park's gardeners have scraped the dell nearly bare -- it looks like some kind of botanical redevelopment project. The gardeners say they had to do this because the dell was severely damaged by a storm.
The glory of the past is gone, and the future has not yet flowered.
Visitors are upset. One even wrote the newspaper complaining about "this destruction."
But spring is a time for hope, and the bedraggled rhododendron dell has not been completely destroyed, only damaged and replanted. Now, they say, is a time for waiting.
"It is going to be slow," said Joan Vellutini, a park gardener who was working on the rhododendron dell the other morning. "By next year it ought to look great," said Kevin Shea, who spent 38 years in the park as a gardener and supervisor. He retired on St. Patrick's Day and thinks of the park every day.
Many people who stroll through the park and along the paths that line the dell think Golden Gate Park is a natural thing, a gift from nature to city people. They are surprised, sometimes, to hear the park is really an artificial creation, built by the city on acres of blowing sand and brush in the 19th century.
The dell was carefully nurtured and shaded by big trees, cypress and Monterey pine. Then, rhododendrons from all over the world were planted 60 to 70 years ago. The park created a microclimate, shady and damp, and the flow thrived. It was dedicated to the memory of John McLaren, the father of Golden Gate Park.
"Nature didn't make this," said Vellutini, "gardeners did, and if you don't take care of it, it will revert to what it was."
"It was a specialty garden," said Doug Martino, who spent 18 years with the rhododendrons. "You could come in and work, and you could do real horticulture here." Like most gardeners, he and Vellutini call the plants "rhodies," as if they were small animals or children, needing constant attention.
Five winters ago, nature turned on the park with a fierce sustained windstorm that blew over perhaps 1,000 trees, smashed up the glass Conservatory of Flowers and wrecked the rhododendron dell.
Most of the big old pines and cypress trees that had sheltered the plants from the sun were knocked down, and so were some of the plants.
The rhododendrons, which were middle-aged, had lost some of the vigor of youth anyway. When the canopy of protection and shade was knocked away, they were burned by the sun. "It was quite a shock to them," said Martino.
In addition, the plants developed armillagria, a fungus in the soil. This brought a crisis: The famous rhododendrons were sick and dying.
People in the city know how it is: There is always a crisis in San Francisco -- the Muni needs fixing, there is a homeless problem, a housing crisis, gentrification, parking, assorted political bombshells, and on and on. The crisis in the dell seemed to the politicians pretty small potatoes.
The political problems pain the gardeners; they don't want to talk about it.
But there are fewer gardeners now than there used to be, and even in good economic times, the budget is tighter than it was.
But this spring, slowly and carefully, the rhododendron dell is getting new trees to provide shade, redwoods this time, not pines. Redwoods last for centuries, but they grow slowly, and the canopy of trees will not spring up this month.
The dell will come back, but later, not sooner. "But at least, it shows we care and are trying to do something," Vellutini said.
A couple, a man named David and a woman named Jade, stopped to talk to the gardeners the other day.
They were dismayed by the bare patch where flowers bloomed. Jade and David live in the Richmond District, next to the park, and come by often. "This is everybody's backyard," said Jade. "This is the backyard for city people, who may live on the fourth floor of an apartment building and be a long way from plants and flowers."
To these people, the small pleasure of a walk in the park was a big pleasure indeed. They walked through the dell, past where the flowers had bloomed, bright like the colors of sherbet. Maybe next year.
April was when the rhododendrons bloomed in the McLaren Memorial Rhododendron Dell in Golden Gate Park -- a famous sight, "a fabulous display . . . a pageant," wrote Katherine Wilson in her guidebook about the park. "One of the great botanical treasures of the world," wrote Margot Patterson Doss in her book about walking in the park.
But this year, April is the cruelest month. The rhododendron dell is only a shadow this spring of what it was. The park's gardeners have scraped the dell nearly bare -- it looks like some kind of botanical redevelopment project. The gardeners say they had to do this because the dell was severely damaged by a storm.
The glory of the past is gone, and the future has not yet flowered.
Visitors are upset. One even wrote the newspaper complaining about "this destruction."
But spring is a time for hope, and the bedraggled rhododendron dell has not been completely destroyed, only damaged and replanted. Now, they say, is a time for waiting.
"It is going to be slow," said Joan Vellutini, a park gardener who was working on the rhododendron dell the other morning. "By next year it ought to look great," said Kevin Shea, who spent 38 years in the park as a gardener and supervisor. He retired on St. Patrick's Day and thinks of the park every day.
Many people who stroll through the park and along the paths that line the dell think Golden Gate Park is a natural thing, a gift from nature to city people. They are surprised, sometimes, to hear the park is really an artificial creation, built by the city on acres of blowing sand and brush in the 19th century.
The dell was carefully nurtured and shaded by big trees, cypress and Monterey pine. Then, rhododendrons from all over the world were planted 60 to 70 years ago. The park created a microclimate, shady and damp, and the flow thrived. It was dedicated to the memory of John McLaren, the father of Golden Gate Park.
"Nature didn't make this," said Vellutini, "gardeners did, and if you don't take care of it, it will revert to what it was."
"It was a specialty garden," said Doug Martino, who spent 18 years with the rhododendrons. "You could come in and work, and you could do real horticulture here." Like most gardeners, he and Vellutini call the plants "rhodies," as if they were small animals or children, needing constant attention.
Five winters ago, nature turned on the park with a fierce sustained windstorm that blew over perhaps 1,000 trees, smashed up the glass Conservatory of Flowers and wrecked the rhododendron dell.
Most of the big old pines and cypress trees that had sheltered the plants from the sun were knocked down, and so were some of the plants.
The rhododendrons, which were middle-aged, had lost some of the vigor of youth anyway. When the canopy of protection and shade was knocked away, they were burned by the sun. "It was quite a shock to them," said Martino.
In addition, the plants developed armillagria, a fungus in the soil. This brought a crisis: The famous rhododendrons were sick and dying.
People in the city know how it is: There is always a crisis in San Francisco -- the Muni needs fixing, there is a homeless problem, a housing crisis, gentrification, parking, assorted political bombshells, and on and on. The crisis in the dell seemed to the politicians pretty small potatoes.
The political problems pain the gardeners; they don't want to talk about it.
But there are fewer gardeners now than there used to be, and even in good economic times, the budget is tighter than it was.
But this spring, slowly and carefully, the rhododendron dell is getting new trees to provide shade, redwoods this time, not pines. Redwoods last for centuries, but they grow slowly, and the canopy of trees will not spring up this month.
The dell will come back, but later, not sooner. "But at least, it shows we care and are trying to do something," Vellutini said.
A couple, a man named David and a woman named Jade, stopped to talk to the gardeners the other day.
They were dismayed by the bare patch where flowers bloomed. Jade and David live in the Richmond District, next to the park, and come by often. "This is everybody's backyard," said Jade. "This is the backyard for city people, who may live on the fourth floor of an apartment building and be a long way from plants and flowers."
To these people, the small pleasure of a walk in the park was a big pleasure indeed. They walked through the dell, past where the flowers had bloomed, bright like the colors of sherbet. Maybe next year.
E-mail Carl Nolte at cnolte@sfchronicle.com.
This article appeared on page A - 19 of the San Francisco Chronicle
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