Barrie Bain Article

While living in Spartanburg, South Carolina, for thirteen years, I was very much involved with a wonderful 9-acre botanical garden, serving on its board and spending countless volunteer hours on its plant sales, fund-raising, and other projects.

The garden was started by Mr. Harold Hatcher as a retirement hobby in his back yard. Once Mr. H. got “turned on” to gardening, he was hooked. Soon he had bought the houses on either side of his and two behind to rent out and take over their yards as part of his landscape.

He renovated the houses and used the rent money to further his dream of building an important garden.

When I arrived in Spartanburg 15 years ago, 80+ year-old Mr. Hatcher had turned the whole garden over to the local county foundation, promising to care for the garden as long as he was able. I was asked to join the long-range planning committee and then the board.

I delighted in watching that garden progress from one man’s dream to a community-supported public garden, complete with walking trails, annual/perennial flower beds, a collection of conifers, a flowing stream and waterfall, a site for weddings and parties, and signage that captured the spirit of the garden and provided an educational component. I had not seen the garden for over two years when I returned to Spartanburg for a friend’s important birthday celebration last week.

My visit to my former home place proved to be a busy one and it turned out that my only chance to check out Hatcher Garden was very early on my last day. I arrived at 8:30 and the temperature gauge in my car registered 34 degrees. Needless to say, I had the Garden all to myself.

The clear blue sky showed not a single cloud and everything - the plants, the trees and shrubs, and the garden structures - wore a light covering of silvery frost. As I wandered from one area to the next, the entire garden took on a magical aspect of quiet grandeur and the only sounds came from chirping birds high up in the leafless hardwoods.

The newest addition, The Garden of Hope and Healing, had been added after I left and I couldn’t wait to see it. The funding for this garden came from a grant from the local Women Giving organization and local contributions. Nestled in the very heart of the property, this garden somehow emanates a feeling of peace and serenity from the moment one encounters it.

Stone benches bearing memorial plaques beckon you to sit and relax; engraved bricks forming an intimate circle remember loved ones; delicate plantings soften the edges; and a soaring edifice draws you in. According to my Spartanburg friends, this garden has already become a well-loved spot for those who are suffering.

Next I visited my favorite place in the Garden - the Wildflower Garden where Mr. Hatcher’s wife, Josephine, gathered together the native plants of South Carolina Piedmont. While I lived in Spartanburg, I spent many hours working in this garden and visited it in every season, often bringing passalong wildflowers from my own garden.

Even though all of the tiny wildflowers were fast asleep, there was much to look at in this area.

The last leaves of the native hydrangeas blazed with fall color; the wild azaleas already bore their buds for spring; lush fronds of several ferns nestled among the fallen leaves; and purple berries still hung on the beautyberry limbs.

A path leads through the middle of the garden and a stone wall buttresses a slop on its far side. Planted along this hillside, mountain laurel, hydrangeas, and buckeye awaited their spring awakening. More ferns surrounded the bases of trees and moss and lichen could be spotted among the pine straw and leaves.