While writing yesterday's post, I came across a picture of my oldest grandchild, Lisa. She was visiting Yearick's Hedge Garden. It's a grainy old picture, but you can get the idea.
The Hedge Garden was Gus Yearick's version of a topiary garden, located on his own property, here in Lower Township. There was Santa Claus in his sleigh, complete with reindeer, in front of his home. To one side of the house was extensive open land. He had filled it with all manner of wonderful pieces. He would plant a hedge, and shape it into a ship, an animal, a small village of houses, a wishing well, etc.
I understand that the first piece he did was a tall ship. By the time I first saw it, it was about fifty years old, and quite impressive. I'm told that it once appeared on the cover of National Geographic Magazine, though I never saw that. Over the years Gus added ships and a tugboat, and then Lady Liberty, creating his version of New York Harbor.
In one area he arranged a baseball game. He even placed a ball in midair, leaving the pitcher's hand.
Gus didn't use wire frames nor any other devices. He used a pair of hedge clippers - that's all.
He devoted most of his time to his hedges. Four generations of my family enjoyed visiting his gardens. I went alone many times, usually taking pictures. Gus would come out and chat with me. He loved it when people came. Tour buses made the stop. There was never a charge to see his work. He would see me coming, and hurry out. "I see you got your picture-takin' machine with you again." We got along just fine. I used to get an extra set of pictures, and give one to him. That really tickled him. He told me that everyone took pictures, but no one else gave them to him.
He also kept a large garden full of zinnias and marigolds. This was edged all around with what looked like a row of lovely blue pointed glass bricks. I asked him where he had found such a pretty edging. Gus chuckled as he told me, he had found a pile of them in the woods and brought them home. - old milk of magnesia bottles! He pushed them into the ground upside down at an angle to make the edging.
When Gus was in the hospital, and knew that he was dying, he made his son promise to dig out all the hedges. He knew that no one else would ever keep them trimmed, and he didn't like the thought of them all growing over in an unsightly manner. His son kept the promise - almost. He left one hedge - The Statue of Liberty. It made me very sad to see them all disappear, and even sadder to see Miss Liberty slowly disappearing into itself.
Thank you, Gus, for many pleasant memories.
