Sunday, 1pm - 5pm; Mon-Thur, 10am - 9pm; Fri and Sat, 10am - 6pm Please see the Multnomah County web site for the latest hours.
No admission fee
Added to JGarden:
This library is a branch of the Multnomah County (Portland area) library system. The branch library opened on January 7, 1990, but the garden was completed and dedicated in May 1992.
According to correspondence with Susan Egan, the garden was a gift from the Gresham Sister City Committee to honor Gresham's Sister City of Ebetsu, Japan. The Committee solicited donations of money and materials from Gresham-area businesses and residents in order to create the "serenity of an oriental type setting for the library." In addition to 500 hours of volunteer work, Fujitsu Microelectronics and Boeing, Portland donated $25,000, another $28,000 came from fund-raising and in-kind donations of design, equipment and materials comprised an additional $12,000. The Library has had early trouble with vandalism and theft of expensive plant materials and the current condition of the garden is not known.
Saihoji Temple, Kyoto
Actuality is emblem here: a walled-in garden
With its hieroglyph of the heart a lake with lotuses,
And its stones and trees a figure of ascent
From painted maze and sensuous paradise
To the Pure Land of the mind, the interior garden.
All paths wind inward to this inward mirror --
Reflecting-pool of primitive solitude --
Where the mind, quiescent, meditates its shadow,
In the garden's Heart this cipher of the heart.
Some bonze cropped bald by wisdom's scythe, to glean
In Chinese glaosses on the Sakya sage
Reality's scattered kernels, planted here
A green and less laborious commentary:
Perpetual witness of the perfect stillness.
Only the moss speaks still, a living scroll;
From the lakeshore to the hillside a silver-green
Page of continuous discourse where the foot moves
More soundlessly that thought along the paths laid
Over ten centuries ago
For the saints rehearsing sutras.
Their path unfolding in a single text,
They moved on an obscure way more quietly
Than the arhat's mantras or the lohan's prayer;
And bruised no stone, no grasses in their passing,
The ground of their desire inviolate.
Nameless, they merged into indifferent turf,
Engrossed in one impartite grace of green,
Their separate deaths lost in this single life --
Men without memory, without distinction.
Though earth assumes them like a scroll rolled up,
The path is fragrant still because they passed here.