Nesting eagles wail and woodpeckers hammer.
Aromas of crushed grass and moss spar with acrid scents of stilled water.
Color flashes at every breath of wind.
Ann Meerkerk envisioned her Greenbank home becoming a place of tranquility and beauty.
She tried, but no one with any eye would call Meerkerk Rhododendron Gardens peaceful at any season. But particularly in spring, peace simply abandons the 53-acre property.
Meerkerk and her husband Max established a collection of rhododendrons and plants that complement the mainly spring-blooming bushes on acreage in Greenbank. When Ann Meerkerk died in 1979, she left Whidbey Island what she called “a peaceful woodland garden.â€
But more than 30 years later, the Meerkerks’ work radiates energy and heat.
Rhododendrons blooming in tender pink dangle over vivid orange ones. Chartreuse rhodies vie with purple and lipstick red.
Walkers who brush against a shrub oozing across a path almost swoon.
Clumps of bloom emit a fragrance resembling a cross between crushed Sweet Tarts candies and strawberry preserves topped with cinnamon and ginger.
From its spot in the original garden, the aroma from Korean spice bush spikes the air almost 30 feet away.
A statuesque daffodil nods over a tiny rhododendron. The bulb’s subdued apricot trumpet tempers the shrub’s acid-yellow blooms.
In the distance, mounds of pink, yellow, orange and purple riot over cinnamon and sable bark.
Pale green tulip bulbs streaked with light ochre, peach and purple rest against ashen fiddleheads.
Wind keeps the tapestry moving. And changing light highlights a different scene every moment.
In spring, Meerkerk Rhododendron Gardens assaults the senses.
Ann Meerkerk’s laser-sharp vision is recognized. Wandering along paths drifted by skeletons of last fall’s leaves and overhung with blooming, and budded, rhododendrons gives people a deep breath.
Visitors can’t feel anything but peace — all the way to the bone.
