Miscanthus sinensis ‘Purpurascens’ (Flame Grass)

At the Chicago Botanic Garden last week, we bypassed several other gardens in order to see Evening Island before we had to catch the train back to town. It wasn’t yet evening when we crossed the bridge onto this 5-acre island garden, but the afternoon sun was setting alight the sweeps of grasses.

Two bridges access Evening Island. We crossed on the Serpentine Bridge (sorry, no photo), which undulates across the water from this curving, stone overlook.

The Arch Bridge offers passage through the willows. See the wind in the willows?

The stars of this garden are the ornamental grasses, making autumn a perfect time to visit. The perennials planted alongside them—echinacea, Russian sage—had mostly gone to seed, eliminating their color from the composition. But that allowed the spotlight to shine fully on the grasses, and they were amazing.

As you walk up the hill amid the grasses, you nearly disappear into them. My 6-foot tall husband patiently provides a sense of scale in this photo.

Over the miscanthus, the Carillon (bell tower) is visible.

Panicum virgatum ‘Dallas Blues’ (switch grass), with Russian sage in the background

A close-up of the panicum’s coppery inflorescence

Passing through the grasses and under a grove of trees at the top of a hill, you find the Council Ring, two low, curving stone walls.

A cool place to rest and reminisce on a day well spent

This lakeside combination caught my eye on the back side of the hill.

Trains won’t wait, so it was time to go. But the beauty of this New American-style garden was the perfect end to a lovely day exploring the botanic garden. When I think back on how much of it we didn’t see, even after six hours, I know I’ll have to plan another trip to Chicago someday. Next time, maybe in spring.

To see photos from the other gardens I visited at Chicago Botanic Garden, click here.

During last week’s 6-hour visit to the Chicago Botanic Garden, we found ourselves rushing to get to Evening Island before we had to catch our train back to the city. So, after a nice lunch at the visitor’s center, we walked briskly past the Model Railroad Garden and Native Plant Garden, took a quick detour through the Landscape Garden and Bulb Garden (both lovely), and were on the verge of hustling past the Circle Garden when its bright borders stopped me in my tracks.

Up the steps, into the eye-poppingly colorful annual garden, I appraised the scene and saw a square fountain centering a square garden room. Smart-aleck that I am, I turned to an elderly woman seated on a bench and asked, “Is this the Circle Garden?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Then why is it square?” I deadpanned.

She laughed and explained that the border of the garden, hidden by hedges, is circular, but the interior is square. She’d seen this garden laid out from day one, she said, and was clearly enjoying herself on a warm bench in the sunshine, in a garden she’d been visiting for years.

I can see why. I don’t usually love annual displays, the long, low sweeps of unrelenting color and similar form frankly boring to me. But this annual garden mixes height and form as well as color, to gorgeous effect. Not to mention that many of the “annuals” are considered perennials here in Austin, like the cannas, salvias, and pennisetum grasses (are the grasses perennial in Chicago, I wonder?). Wouldn’t a border like this one blow the socks off your neighbors, fellow Austinites?

We were too rushed to see all of the Circle Garden, but I thought the inner section was fun and exciting. Except for those orange mum towers. I’m still not sure what to think about those.

Toasty pennisetums play well against the oranges and yellows in this garden.

What are those tall, spiky, yellow flowers? Update: Annie ID’d them as Salvia madrensis ‘Redneck Girl.’ Thanks, Annie.

I spotted these asters in another part of the Botanic Garden, but I wanted to show them because asters were all over the place that week. Yes, I know, this is an unrelenting sweep of color and form, like I said of annuals, blah, blah, blah. But I like it anyway. Ahh, asters.

Next up, for fellow ornamental grass lovers, is Evening Island, our final garden of the day. If you missed the Japanese Garden and Bonsai Collection, click here.

One of my garden goals is to learn more about Japanese gardens, ideally through a trip to Japan. (Have you noticed that I like to travel?) Last spring I was inspired by Tom Spencer’s beautiful garden photos from Japan. Despite my appreciation for their quiet, reflective beauty, however, I still don’t quite get these stylized gardens. I lack the key to their meaning. So exploring the Japanese Garden at the Chicago Botanic Garden last week was a bit like looking at a beautifully illustrated book whose text is printed in a foreign language.

In Japanese gardens, I find myself drawn to the ornament, to the hardscaping, rather than the plants, which often remind me—I hate to admit it—of business-park plantings. Here, a simple gate opens into a mossy courtyard with a trickling bamboo fountain.

A stately focal point near the entrance to the garden, this sculpted pine commands a view of the hillside.

A zigzag bridge, so built to stymie demons, leads from one island to the next—from Island of the Auspicious Cloud to Island of Clear, Pure Breezes. Three islands make up the Japanese Garden, but only two can be explored. The third, inaccessible to mortals (visitors, anyway ; staff must ferry themselves across the lake in boats), is wryly named Island of Everlasting Happiness.

Thirteen stone lanterns mark focal points in the garden.

Hmm, maybe Japan would be the place to retire . . .

Contorted pine. I’d love to have this in my garden.

A charming gate

Maple leaf

An exuberant group of schoolchildren followed us through the Japanese Garden, obliterating its tranquility. I’m glad the kids got to see the garden (the girls were all clutching tiny bouquets of flowers cut for them by generous staff members). Maybe a future gardener was among the rowdy bunch, soaking up inspiration. However, for us it meant that we hustled through and soon climbed a hillside path to another part of the garden.

Just outside the Japanese Garden, a grand waterfall cascaded down rocky ledges.

At the bottom, where the water rippled into the lake, this duck watched us with a beady, shrewd eye, wanting to be fed, I suspect.

I like this unique combination of sedum and horsetail. How does this work? Sedum likes dry feet, and horsetail likes damp. Can anyone identify the sedum for me? Maybe it’s something else altogether. Update: It is Sedum ‘Purple Emperor.’ Thank you to Mr. McGregor’s Daughter for the ID.

On the hillside, a dainty fern contrasted beautifully with hard stone.

Under one of the stones, a chipmunk had dug a burrow, and he darted back and forth across the path with bundles of seeds or leaves in his mouth, storing up for winter or feathering his nest.

Earlier that morning we’d stumbled upon the garden’s extraordinary Bonsai Collection. I’d read about the collection months ago in a magazine but forgotten that it was housed at the Botanic Garden. So it was a real treat to walk into this courtyard and see the display that I’d read is one of the best in the world.

This miniature forest was my favorite. But I was also intrigued to see single trees and shrubs that commonly grow in Austin, like crepe myrtle and loropetalum, turned into tiny, wizened trees.

According to the guide, bonsai are intended to be viewed from the front, so scrims conceal the backs from view. Nearly 200 bonsai make up the collection, and they are rotated through the outdoor displays spring through fall. In the winter they reside in greenhouses.

Click here for yesterday’s tour of the English Walled Garden . Next up is the colorful Circle Garden.