When I was in the eighth grade, I wrote a paper with the title, “Enthusiasm is Contagious.” I can’t remember what class it was for—but I do remember we had to stand in front of the room and read our paper to the class. I can’t say that anyone was bowled over with my writing or oratory skills. It was memorable because my teacher made a remark that it was an odd choice—I was not the outgoing, spirited type of person. At that moment, I realized people are judged by what is seen on the outside. I am not saying that is bad—it is a natural tendency. We can’t know what goes on inside a person.  

Several weekends ago, my husband and I went for a walk at a local botanical garden. Aldridge Gardens is a thirty-acre woodland garden featuring a five-acre lake, wide trails, whimsical sculptures, native plants, azaleas, and hydrangeas. 

The property began as a family estate and in 1966 two local horticulturalists—Loren Aldridge and his son, Eddie—were hired to plant two magnolias on the property. They fell in love with the land and thought this unique estate would be the perfect place for a public garden. 

In 1977, the family decided to sell the property. Eddie Aldridge purchased it and lived there with his family. In 1994 he began exploring options to transform the property into a public garden—his dream for so many years. In 1997 the City of Hoover and the City Council purchased the land and a resolution was passed to ensure the property would stay public space in perpetuity. A Master Plan was commissioned and in 2002, Aldridge Gardens opened to the public.

Snowflake Hydrangeas (named for the shape of its leaves) are the signature plant at the garden. A type of oakleaf hydrangea, this variety has large flower heads of intricate double blossoms layered on top of each other. Eddie and his father saw their first Snowflake Hydrangea in the Alabama woods in 1969 and immediately knew this was an extraordinary find. They patented the Snowflake in 1971 and propagated the plant so it could be shared with others.

It was a beautiful spring morning and the sun was bright, but not hot. We walked at a calm, leisurely pace enjoying the plants and flowers along the winding trails. We stopped and sat for a while on one of the benches facing the lake. It was quiet and peaceful. We watched older couples stroll by and some stopped to say, “Good morning.” Other people walked briskly along the paths to get exercise.

Because it was early spring, not much was in bloom yet—but there were cheery, yellow daffodils and I spied a trillium plant. We saw several geese and a few ducks. There was one Great Blue Heron who stood right next to the lake—even with people stopping to take pictures, it did not flinch.

Whimsical bronze sculptures are scattered throughout the garden. One is a larger-than-life rabbit on a cart being pulled by a big turtle. A little boy had climbed onto the back of the turtle and his mom was taking his picture. You could tell he was having the best time!

Along the trails, there are streams and small waterfalls. I stopped to listen to the bubbling of the water—enjoying this peaceful moment in nature. One of my favorite sections was the Meyer Bonsai Terrace. You enter through a Torii gate and a meandering path leads to the terrace where you are surrounded by large bonsai on platforms.

As we were leaving, there was a woman with three or four children walking toward us. One child, a girl wearing a pink princess dress, ran ahead of them. She looked at my husband and me and exclaimed, “Hello!” I glanced at her mom—her face grinned a “knowing” look. This must be her outgoing, enthusiastic child. 

I had to smile back and say hello. Such passion demands a reaction! I have replayed that scene in my mind over and over again—hoping to retain some of that excited energy for myself.

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The secret of genius is to carry the spirit of the child into old age, which means never losing your enthusiasm.

— Aldous Huxley (1894-1963) English writer and philosopher