An Introduction to the Writing of Karl Foerster

By Robert Herman

I was fortunate to have lived and worked in southwestern Germany for almost seven years, as Meister for the Countess von Zeppelin Perennial Plant Nursery. At that point the nursery, located near the Black Forest, had a selection of over 4,000 different species and cultivars and was well-known and respected throughout Europe.

During my stay in Germany, I became well-acquainted with the reputation of Karl Foerster. I acquired most of his books and visited his former home and gardens, accompanied by his daughter, Marianne Foerster. Her father was not only an excellent plantsman, having introduced over 250 perennial plant cultivars, but he was also an accomplished author of over 30 books. His 1978 book, Einzug der Graeser und Farne in die Garten (The Introduction of Grasses and Ferns into the Garden) was largely responsible for the ornamental grass movement in Europe and, eventually, in North America.

When I returned to the United States I was often asked why none of Karl Foerster’s books have been translated into German. My only possible explanation has been that Foerster often had a very poetic style of expressing himself, which even Germans could have difficulty understanding, at times. The author could become quite philosophical about plants and our relationship with them and loved sharing his thoughts and ideas with fellow gardeners and friends. A colleague of mine, Isbert Preussler, and every other person I ever met who worked with Foerster, could spend hours recounting what a wonderful experience it was to have had a close connection with Foerster. 

Personally, I couldn’t imagine having to translate an entire book written by Foerster. At one point, however, I did venture to translate an excerpt from the book, Ein Garten der Erinnerung – Sieben Kapitel von und ueber Karl Foerster (A Garden of Memories – Seven Chapters From and About Karl Foerster):

First Meeting with the Perennial Aster ‘Herbstmyrte’ (‘Autumn Myrtle’)

I had heard of her some time ago and now I was about to see her for the first time, in my own garden.

 On a bluish, foggy morning, chilly yet full of the energy of autumn, the first buds of my joy and love began to develop, and every day unfolded anew. The sweet mystery touched me like the realization of a semi-conscious dream. 

 Red sunlight pouring over her, sparkling with dew like an overhanging net of pearls, a few scarlet-red grape leaves sprinkled down into her hair, she stood motionless in bloom, the small, white perennial aster named ‘Autumn Myrtle’.

 The first snowy blossoms arose out of the fine, glittering star-like buds like sparkling, delicate jewels hung with tiny dewdrops in the glowing mist.

 The pulse-quickening breath of the ripe and fruitful autumn air combined with this sight – delicate as a dream – to create a harmonious blend of energy and sweetness. 

 What a joyful feeling to be ensured of the companionship of this quiet, comforting being for many autumns to come, a being that weaves so many threads from spirit to spirit and between then and now. 

 There are many life-forms with a fragile appearance which accompany us through the oceans of time and destiny, marvelous measures and landmarks of the passing of time, and spiritual growth. 

 The ‘Autumn Myrtle’ belongs to the unusual kingdom of perennial plants which celebrate rebirth each spring, arising from an underground nest of intertwined roots in which they are resting from their days of beauty in the light. An integral part of the garden, such plant beings, which descend into invisibility again and again, often decorate the birthdays of our youth over a long procession of years. Perhaps they will rise up into this mysterious starry kingdom with spring-like freshness long after we ourselves are out of sight beneath the earth.

 The small ‘Autumn Myrtle’ offers up such an abundant thicket of blossoms, that one can cut many blossoms with no noticeable difference.

I found an antique, pale green, Venetian vase that was perfectly suited to the guileless charm of this aster. In this vase, the flowers decorated the midday table. The conversation drifted over the asters and this quiet flower, most certainly the most moving of the autumn flowers, elicited myriad words from the guests. The flower shone into our souls like a tiny spotlight, illuminating youthful freshness in the old and thoughtfulness in the young. Once again the voice and words of a beloved old friend, as if from the past, wove a festive canopy over my joy.

 To be sure, it is not only people who love the ‘Autumn Myrtle’. Today in the heavenly hours of the autumn mid-afternoon heat, ladybugs and pale blue butterflies sat in the striking little bush, which was in full flower. The aster bobbed gently up and down with the weight of visiting bees who filled the air with their hushed buzzing. The plant also plays a part in the creation of honey – what a good soul!

 Evenings after returning from the theater I would go out with a lantern to my flower in the small autumn garden, as one will go to a flower in order to be at peace with oneself. The damp, heavy smells of rotting leaves were carried in every direction and from the Milky Way the calls of migrating birds reached down to earth. 

 It is like a miracle that this season of cold and darkness continues to reign over buds and blossoms.

 The pleasures of seeing the first primroses of last spring seem worlds and years away. Often an awareness of what marvelous events can occur in a short span of time is sparked by the quiet return of the flowers of these faithful garden plants. The year is lengthened by the early and the late flowers. When early spring and late autumn find their proper places and flowery altars in the garden, then we can truly celebrate the fullness of these splendid “early risers” and “latecomers”.

 The light of the lantern falls on the aster on whose flower stalks a few large brown leaves hang like vampires. 

 All of her blossoms still have not opened; she takes her time, her beauty is still unfolding.

It is as if the borders are blurred – are the buds struggling to unfold and blossom inside of us or outside of us? In the perfect full blossom it appears as if the soul has completed its healing work. 

She sparkles all over with dewdrops, which reflect light like crystals. The thousand starry eyes have not the faintest idea of spring’s glory or summer’s storms; they shine only onto a fading, muted world, with its colored tatters of leaves in the mist. And for twelve hours they stand under the night sky while constellations travel above them. 

One almost finds it difficult to leave the faithful flower alone in the cool, dripping autumn night. As I fall asleep in the evening my thoughts wander for yet another moment to the loveliness of this new creation and its place in the future.

Every precious new flower which becomes a part of the garden introduces new ethereal elements into the world and embodies our joy in the season. It also prepares fertile ground for our continued spiritual growth.