Cutting Back: My Apprenticeship in the Gardens of Kyoto

Cutting Back: My Apprenticeship in the Gardens of Kyoto

by Leslie Buck
Cutting Back: My Apprenticeship in the Gardens of Kyoto

Cutting Back: My Apprenticeship in the Gardens of Kyoto

by Leslie Buck

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Overview

“An unusual and entertaining memoir.” —New York Times Book Review

At thirty-five, Leslie Buck made an impulsive decision to put her personal life on hold to pursue her passion. Leaving behind a full life of friends, love, and professional security, she became the first American woman to learn pruning from one of the most storied landscaping companies in Kyoto. Cutting Back recounts Buck’s bold journey and the revelations she has along the way.

During her apprenticeship in Japan, she learns that the best Kyoto gardens look so natural they appear untouched by human hands, even though her crew spends hours meticulously cleaning every pebble in the streams. She is taught how to bring nature’s essence into a garden scene, how to design with native plants, and how to subtly direct a visitor through a landscape. But she learns the most important lessons from her fellow gardeners: how to balance strength with grace, seriousness with humor, and technique with heart.


Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781604698046
Publisher: Timber Press, Incorporated
Publication date: 05/03/2017
Sold by: Hachette Digital, Inc.
Format: eBook
Pages: 280
File size: 892 KB

About the Author

Leslie Buck is a garden designer and aesthetic pruner who specializes in natural design in the San Francisco Bay Area. She has over two decades of gardening experience, and a fine art degree from U.C. Berkeley and the Bordeaux School of Fine Arts in France. In 2000, Buck studied with Uetoh Zoen, one of the oldest and most highly acclaimed landscape companies in Japan. She has worked, taught, and volunteered in hundreds of private landscapes and as well as dozens of public gardens including the Portland Japanese Garden, Hakone Japanese Garden, Tassajara Zen Center, and Merritt College.

 

Read an Excerpt

Preface
I am the person you spot up in the tree, dirt smeared across my face. “Is that a large bird up there?” you may wonder. My pruning shears busily clip away as I try to bring out the natural beauty in the tree in my playful, sometimes assertive, sometimes delicate way. The tree, shears, and I are dancing partners under the sun. We’ve been together for decades.

Passersby might step right over my pile, despite the rake I have lain across the sidewalk as a deterrent. Sometimes, without asking, they’ll pick up a branch for their dog and walk on, hoping not to bother me. Or maybe I’ll catch their eye as they walk right under a branch I’m sawing that is about to drop. People are curious about a female pruner high up in the tree, wielding sharp tools. Just as I covet the stylish outfits worn by the women who walk beneath my tree, I believe others want to be like a kid again, up in the tree with me.

This kind of interaction would never take place in Japan, where, starting late in the year 1999, I worked for three long seasons, watching the gardens explode with summer growth, morph overnight into radiant fall colors, and molt their leaves after the first bitter cold days of winter. Owing to their devotion and skills, traditional gardeners are treated like brain surgeons by the Japanese public. Clients and people walking by give them plenty of space, never talking to them unless summoned, so as not to break their concentration or pace. When addressing a gardener in Japan, people first apologize for interrupting, and then speak in reverent tones to the craftsman they know has trained like a star athlete, with much physical effort and years of sacrifice, in order to create over centuries some of the most beautiful gardens in the world.

But I don’t mind if someone asks me a question while I’m up in a tree. I’m naturally friendly, having been born in the heart of the Midwest and raised from a young age in a sleepy California beach town. At the age of nearly thirty-five I went to Japan in pursuit of a gardening apprenticeship. I had to ask permission in person to join the company, to show I was serious, the way others have approached landscaping companies for centuries.

I didn’t always feel daring. I’m an unusual adventurer: more worried than eager, unable to pick up new languages easily, and often getting lost. I’m willing to challenge myself, but my emotions, both anxiety and joy, always play a large role. Still I never let any flaws in my character keep me from going after a dream. My struggles were a gift. They taught me determination, and sometimes humor. In Kyoto I learned to work in silence, to run fast between projects, and to take breaks three times a day, with green tea and snacks. I grew to appreciate how hard I tried rather than how much I succeeded. I discovered a way to feel proud even when I came home dirty and exhausted.

In Kyoto I discovered that 90 percent of the private home gardens of Japan are native; the Kyoto private homes, monasteries, and imperial gardens I worked in were some of the most natural looking gardens I’d ever seen. The miniaturized and overly sheared Japanese gardens I’d expected were surprisingly absent. Most of the gardens were designed and pruned to look so sincere that visitors might think they’d stepped into a piece of forest left behind in the city. One of my coworkers, who once fell asleep in a pine tree, said to me, “Leslie, tell your friends back home that Japanese gardens are as natural as possible.”

I tend to work with serious focus. So I prefer answering inquires when sitting in a garden with a lovely table full of tea and cake nearby. A garden desires to be enjoyed. I love to teach others about my craft, and I enjoy pruning in the garden one day and writing in a café the next. Spending time in nature allows me to ruminate over my writing and ideas. The gardens inspire me and offer a paid workout. The feminine weeping red pine in one of my sixty-year old gardens, or the two girls I always see walking by with their two well-fed boxers in San Francisco’s Sea Cliff, give me an idea for my next chapter.

When I returned from my Japan apprenticeship, I built up my pruning business so I could buy a home and have access to healthcare, two things every long-term hard worker should be able to afford. I joined volunteer pruning projects at nonprofit gardens with the Merritt College Pruning Club to teach others my craft. I continued to learn from classes, conferences, lectures, sketching, and almost thirty years of hands-on garden work.

The way to become a master craftsman in Japan is to practice one’s craft and to teach. One garden craftsman told me that as a hobby he studied ikebana, the Japanese art of flower arranging. When I asked him how long he’d been doing this, he said, “Oh, not very long, only fifteen years. I’m just an amateur.” It requires many years of hands-on experience to fully understand a craft. Japanese craftspeople take their work seriously. I begin my story at one of the first Kyoto gardens I worked in, where the garden craftsmen of Japan began to teach me not only about pride, but about how to find heart in the garden.

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