Open gardens, as the name implies, are places - physical or virtual - that provide soil, sunshine and water for growing and nurturing things. They support and encourage multifloral practices; they provide sunlight or shade depending on the needs of the plant. Even weeds can flourish there. They have no walls around them; you can wander right in. In fact, you might not even notice that you’re standing in one, so vague and invisible are the perimeters surrounding them.

Open gardens have a vast ecology of organisms that all play a crucial part in their thriving. All beings in this place, from the tiniest beetle to the enormous trees, are crucial. They all function according to their needs and wishes, should they harbor such inclinations. Nothing is imposed, all is chosen.

Open gardens are indestructible. Their lakes can’t be drained and their underground is impenetrable. They serve vitality and escape cultivation. Guests are treated, invaders rendered incapable. Language here holds no lies.

Open gardens can scale and merge or remain small and undiscovered. Their properties and intricacies are not determined by size; their effect not hinged on scope. They are never obscured or hidden. Their complexity is explainable; all trunks, twigs and leaves are there for a reason.

Open gardens do not have predators or parasites. There is no hunting or competing; no starvation or thirst. No loneliness. The perimeter expands and contracts in synergy with the inhabitants, like breath expands the chest. Sleep is undisturbed and filled with vivid dreams to inspire.