Looking Beyond the Cherry Blossoms
Among the characteristics of Japanese gardens that differentiates them from those designed and built by other cultures of the world is that they heavily favor green over other colors. Whereas some gardens will favor an eruption of many vividly colored flowers, Japanese ones are, typically, far more selective and sparing in their use.
“Japanese gardens do not use a lot of colors and flowers,” noted Michio Wakui, Garden Director (1974-76), to Board President Ed McVicker (2009-11) in a 2010 interview. “For example, when we use camellias, we don’t use many but strategically place it in one spot. English gardens use a lot of colors and have fun with colors. On the other hand, Japanese gardens try to keep it as simple as possible. I don’t think that in Japanese gardens, they are consciously arranging the different tones of foliage like in an English garden. It’s more about shape, using stones, and the balance between stones and trees.”
The Garden has abided by this philosophy since its beginning days. In a 1963 note likely written by Vivian Abbot, one of the organization’s founding Board Members who also shepherded its earliest publicity, she shared, “Our Japanese gardens will be an idealistic expression of nature in a reduced scale, with emphasis on form and shape, blended by nature rather than a profusion of color and variety of flowers.”
Of course, flowers do appear throughout Portland Japanese Garden and May and June is the time of year they are in most abundance. While sakura, or cherry blossoms, get well-deserved attention for their ephemeral beauty in late March and early April, they are also harbingers for other flowers this time of year. Here is a quick guide to some of the springtime splendor you can expect to see over the next few weeks.
Azaleas & Rhododendrons
Both rhododendrons and azaleas have been a staple of Japanese gardens for centuries—the rounded, almost sphere-like results of o-karkiomi pruning have made azaleas an immediately recognizable plant feature of many Japanese landscapes. They’re present throughout our grounds—either as a quick burst of color next to a stone or pine tree or laid out in abundant splendor such as those flanking the steps near the Natural Garden’s machiai (sheltered waiting arbor).
Sometimes it can be confusing to figure out whether one of these woody plants is an “azalea” or a “rhododendron”—the simple reason being azaleas are members of the Rhododendron genus and thus look similar. A quick visual clue you can use in Portland Japanese Garden to determine the difference is the size of the plant. While not necessarily a firm and fast “rule,” our rhododendrons tend to be larger in scale, often reaching human height. Azaleas will often be smaller. For those taking a much closer look, you’ll see that rhododendrons have ten stamens and azaleas have five.
Rhododendrons are among the first flowers that were planted at the Garden and, like several trees that are still here, were rescued from an area undergoing construction. In minutes from the Japanese Formal Garden Commission, a body formed by the City of Portland that eventually would transform into the independent and nonprofit organization the Garden is today, founding Board Member Mildred Schnitzer wrote “The Rhododendron augustini from the Sixth and Lincoln Freeway site [where Interstate 405 stands today] will be heeled in at the Garden site for future placement.”
Azaleas too are represented among the earliest plants to arrive at Portland Japanese Garden—in 1964 the organization’s first Board President, Philip Englehart, reported that Tokyo Governor Ryōtarō Azuma had arranged a donation of the plants through several different prefectures in Japan. William “Robbie” Robinson, Head Gardener for the Portland Parks & Recreation Bureau shared later that they were planted near the Wet Heron lantern in the Flat Garden. When Englehart unexpectedly passed away in 1966, the Garden’s original designer, Professor Takuma Tono of the Tokyo University of Agriculture, planted white azaleas on the hillside southwest of the Nezu Gate—they were a favorite of the late leader.
Wisteria
While wisteria draping down from the arbor adjacent to the Garden’s Membership Center have typically been a feature of our early summer landscape, they can appear in spring and have done so in 2025. Wisteria and its different varieties are native to several different areas of Asia and have long captivated the people of Japan. Writing for the North American Japanese Garden Association (NAJGA), Andrew R. Deane notes, “Sei Shōnagon (清少納言 c.966-1017) praises the effect of wisteria hanging in the pine trees of a garden in her novel The Pillow Book (Makura-no-sōshi 枕草子), although it was more often trained over a trellis or pergola.”
The wisteria arbor is one of the Garden’s oldest elements, having been built in 1965. Initially planned to be made of bamboo and redwood, concern over Portland’s rainy climate led the organization to instead create posts of concrete, carved to look like the trees of Washington Park. Drake Snodgrass, formerly Board President from 2022 to 2024, notes that his father Robert helped with its installation and in doing so, felt some of the peace the organization strives to foster. “My dad fought in World War II,” Snodgrass wrote in a 2022 issue of The Garden Path. “He was with the 10th Mountain Division. He battled on skis in the Alps of Northern Italy. The war caused him to hate the enemy. After the war, he started a garden center and landscape company. Planting the wisteria at the base of the pergola started his personal healing journey that lasted a lifetime. Gardens can do just that. I was fortunate to witness it happen then, and to see it manifested in our future.”
Dogwood
Perhaps less showy but no less handsome are the Garden’s flowering dogwood trees, seen in the Flat Garden. There are species of dogwood native to several areas including North America, Europe, and Asia. The species planted here, Cornus kousa, are native to East Asia, including Japan. Again writing for NAJGA, Deane shares, “The timber is often used to craft implements. The Japanese [yamabōshi] translates literally as ‘mountain monk.’”
While little on dogwood appears to have been documented in the Garden’s archives other than that they were among the earliest plants to have been purchased (six total), they are part of an interesting footnote in U.S.-Japan relations. A close relative of yamabōshi is the hanamizuki, or amerika-yamabōshi—it is native to North America and was first introduced to Japan in 1909 as a gesture of gratitude from Americans after Washington, D.C. had received cherry trees from Tokyo.
