There are places we visit because there is something we need to do there.

And then there are places that ask almost nothing of us.

Harry P. Leu Gardens belongs to the latter.

Tucked into the middle of Orlando, its fifty acres of gardens, winding paths, towering trees and lakeside views can feel surprisingly removed from the momentum of the city around them. Leu Gardens itself suggests allowing two to three hours to explore the grounds, but I think that almost misses the point.

This is one of those places where you don't necessarily need a plan.

You can simply wander.

And there is something increasingly luxurious about that.

The Pleasure of Going Nowhere in Particular

We have become remarkably good at optimizing our time.

Even the things we do to relax can somehow acquire an objective. We track the walk. Schedule the self-care. Book the class. Complete the meditation. Take the photograph. Check the experience off the list.

There is nothing inherently wrong with any of that.

But every once in a while, it feels wonderful to go somewhere beautiful without needing the experience to produce anything.

At Leu Gardens, a path can simply lead to another path.

You can linger beneath a tree because the shade feels good. Stop beside Lake Rowena. Notice what is blooming. Sit on a bench longer than you intended. Follow something because it caught your eye.

The Gardens contain more than 40 plant collections, including camellias, roses, palms and cycads, along with tropical, butterfly, vegetable and herb gardens. The property itself has been part of Orlando's story for generations; Harry P. Leu and his wife donated the 50-acre estate to the City of Orlando in 1961 for public enjoyment and horticultural education.

But you don't need to know the name of a single plant to enjoy being there.

Beauty does not require expertise.

Let the Garden Set the Pace

Nature has its own timing, and gardens make that difficult to ignore.

What you encounter in January will not be precisely what you encounter in April. Leu Gardens is especially known for its thousands of camellias, which put on their show during the cooler months, generally from December through March. 

Return later and something else will have taken center stage.

I love that.

There is a subtle invitation in a place that cannot be experienced exactly the same way twice. It reminds us that change does not always need to be dramatic to be meaningful. Sometimes it is simply a different flower blooming, a different quality of light coming through the trees, or something that wasn't ready the last time you were there.

Perhaps we are allowed to move that way, too.

Come Alone

Leu Gardens is certainly somewhere to bring a friend, a daughter, a mother or someone you love.

But I would also make a case for going alone.

Bring a book if you want one, although you may never open it.

Put your phone away for a while.

Walk until somewhere invites you to stop.

For women in particular, solitude can become strangely scarce. There is almost always someone to answer, something to organize, someplace to be, or another person whose needs have found their way onto our internal radar.

An hour in a garden doesn't solve any of that.

It doesn't need to.

Sometimes it is enough to remember what it feels like to be somewhere without being required to respond to anyone.

Or Come to Gather

And yet, one of the loveliest things about Leu Gardens is that solitude is only one way to experience it.

Throughout the year, the Gardens become a setting for art, movement, music, horticulture, food, learning and gathering. The current calendar alone moves easily between watercolor and mosaic workshops, gardening classes, botanical food-and-drink experiences, and wellness offerings overlooking the lake.

That range feels particularly fitting.

A botanical garden does not have to be something we admire from a distance. It can become a place where we participate.

We can paint there. Learn there. Move our bodies there. Discover how something grows. Listen to music among the trees. Meet someone. Bring someone. Return for something completely different.

The garden becomes not simply scenery, but part of the life of the city.

Knowing the Place Where We Live

I have been thinking a great deal lately about what it means to really know where we live.

Not simply knowing the roads we take every day, the stores we frequent or the places where we complete our errands.

I mean developing a relationship with a place.

Knowing where to go when you need quiet.

Knowing what blooms here and when.

Having places you return to often enough that you begin noticing what has changed.

Knowing where people gather to make things, learn things, grow things and experience something beautiful together.

That kind of familiarity creates a different relationship with home.

And in a region as busy, sprawling and continually evolving as Central Florida, perhaps places like Leu Gardens matter for precisely that reason.

They give us somewhere to return to.

An Afternoon With No Assignment

There will always be another event worth attending at Leu Gardens. Another class. Another concert. Another seasonal display. Another reason to put something on the calendar.

And I intend for Resonant to tell you about plenty of them.

But perhaps the best reason to go is also the simplest.

Choose an afternoon when you have nowhere else you urgently need to be.

Walk through the gate.

Take whichever path looks beautiful.

And, for a little while, allow yourself the quiet luxury of having absolutely nowhere in particular to go.