There is a house on a quiet street with a brick path that leads the eye to the front door, surrounded by luscious green shrubbery that contrasts the white clapboard. Although the outside is well maintained, the inside hasn’t changed much since 1927. All the plates, dishes, and cups remain as they were left. This isn’t a story of a haunted or abandoned house, but rather an incredible story with a hint of mystery.
The story begins with Edward and Elizabeth Clarkson, a newlywed couple settling into their new life together. Elizabeth was a progressive woman, especially for the 1920’s. She not only completed her studies at the New England Conservatory of Music to become a concert pianist, but she also played a vital part in the construction of her own home, insisting on mailing the blueprints to Edward in order to have the perfect layout to complement her beautiful garden.
There are so many reasons as to why I love Wing Haven Gardens, but I think it all started with the sense of discovery I had when I first realized that there was essentially a secret garden in my backyard. As a child, I was obsessed with the book "The Secret Garden." I longed for one of my own. The ivy-laced wrought iron gates, the stone walk ways, and the knowledge that you never knew what kind of bird, animal, or flower could pop up next all filled me with a sense of wonderment. For me, a secret garden was like the ultimate clubhouse or fort. You can imagine my excitement and curiosity when I learned that just a few blocks away from my university, there was a garden oasis waiting for me to discover.
Today, Ridgewood Avenue is a quiet street with beautiful homes and manicured lawns in the Myers Park area. Before Myers Park became the picturesque suburban neighborhood that it is, though, it was once just dirt roads without neighbors for miles, with horses instead of cars going for evening rides. Elizabeth soon became the go-to person for when there was a lost dog or abandoned nest of blue birds. She had a way with animals, staying up all night to feed baby birds worms with tweezers. These birds grew up to live in the very house in which they were nursed back to health.
Of the four blue birds, there was a particularly clever one named Tommy. Tommy, like the other birds, lived in the Clarkson’s home making their nests in books and bathing in the finger bowls of dinner guests. Tommy lived for eight years, flying daily from inside the Clarkson home to the very birdhouse in which he was born to visit his “bird family.” Tommy could even be called on command when Elizabeth would call “Tommy, where are you, boy? Come, Tommy." Elizabeth was like Snow White with her animals. She could play her piano with birds clinging to her arms, holding on for dear life as her hands roamed the ivory keys.
But beyond the obvious beauty and awe of nature, there is an air of mystery that extends past the gardens and into Charlotte. I didn’t understand this feeling until I sat on the same couch on which the Clarkson’s sat every evening. I sat in the living room receiving my training in order to become children’s docent, giving tours to school groups wanting to learn more about the history of what is now Wing Haven Garden and Bird Sanctuary. Behind me was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf lined with expensive first editions, but their worth is not the reason they haven’t moved for decades. These books became the homes to several birds, including Tommy, and even a squirrel or two.
Today, Wing Haven Gardens operates as a nonprofit foundation, their goal to increase awareness and cultivate “sanctuary in nature, environmental stewardship, and the legacy of southern horticulture”. Perhaps my favorite part of being a member and active volunteer at Wing Haven are the weekly visits of several different underprivileged preschool classes. The children excitedly cross into the Clarkson threshold, knowing that they will soon be in the gardens learning about nature, ecosystems, and the lives of Eddie and Elizabeth. As I follow the children through the garden, I smile as I watch their fascination as they crane their necks to see the giant oaks or catch sight of their state bird.
As I sat on the Clarkson’s couch marveling at the garden through the large picture window, I couldn’t help but become a little antsy, ready to smell the floral air of the garden, walking under the shade of the giant oaks, admiring the spring blooms and passing smiling children as they peer into the reflection pool. Birds swoop overhead singing their songs, and appear just as excited as I am to be at home at Wing Haven Gardens.
