Six Things a Garden Should Be

The garden begins where the castle grounds end, across a bridge over the old moat road. Its centre is a wide pond called Kasumigaike, with an arched stone bridge, a pine leaning far out over the water, and a famous two-legged stone lantern standing at the edge as if it had been balanced there by accident. Below the surface the koi drifted in slow circles, orange and white and one very old black one, in no hurry whatsoever.

Kenrokuen means the garden of six attributes. Old Chinese landscape theory held that a perfect garden needs six qualities and that no garden can hold them all, since each one works against another: spaciousness and seclusion, human artifice and the look of great age, abundant water and a wide distant view. The lords of this city spent the better part of two centuries proving the theory wrong, and opened the result to the public in eighteen seventy-four.

The strangest and most beautiful work in the garden begins every year on the first of November. Gardeners raise a tall pole beside each important pine and drop ropes from the top of it down to the tips of the branches, tying each one off, until the whole tree stands inside an enormous cone of rope. Snow here comes off the sea wet and unusually heavy, and without the ropes the old branches would simply break.

The garden's most famous pine takes around eight hundred ropes on its own, and the cones stay up until the middle of March. Polly stood on the bridge rail as the light went flat and grey across the water, watching the koi turn, and turn again.