Even in our modern age, there are places in California wherein one can see the lush beauty of the state’s origins. Certainly the wild cliffs of the North come to mind, with awe-inspiring redwood forests and deep, mystical fog. People enjoy the stark beauty of the dusky desert, any live thing that roots juxtaposed against the skyline in twisting sculptural disobedience. The Pacific Ocean is always how she wishes to be—beautiful, unfathomable, relentless. But there are other special places where humans have made their mark so indelibly, and with such sympathy, that the land becomes something greater than what Nature intended. Lotusland Garden in Montecito is one such spot.
I’m not sure when Lotusland became a desirable destination for me or when I learned of its charms, though it has been on my California bucket list for at least 15 years. Part of its allure is its inaccessibility. A visit to Lotusland is not casual endeavor. Cradled in a residential neighborhood—albeit one of incredible wealth and exclusivity—Ganna Walska Lotusland is a non-profit 37 acre botanical garden that visitors must make reservations for at least a month in advance. The entrance to the garden has no address, you are only given directions when your reservation is confirmed. Everyone has a timed entrance and exit—both self-guided and docent-led tours only last 90 minutes, hardly enough time to get from one area of the grounds to the other. Unless you are fortunate enough to live in the area and can visit on a regular basis, there is no good way to penetrate the design and delights of this space, or even fully appreciate its uniqueness. Still, my husband and I gave it our best effort.
The garden is loosely organized into themed rooms, almost as if one is descending into separate lands or countries. Our favorites included the Japanese Garden, with its lacy maple trees and whorled pines rimming a central pond with blush and butter-colored waterlilies. Up the footpath a bit beckons the Rose Garden, part of a formal Italian-styled parterre with brick walkways and patinaed statuary guarding the Moorish-tiled fountains and full-throated blooms. Walking into the Bromeliad Garden is a surprise with its heavy, subtropical air, spiky Jurassic flora, and dripping Spanish moss whispering from tree branches above.
This eclectic mix sounds as if it should be jarring, but it’s not. The opposite is true as the visitor is welcomed into every part of Lotusland with a wink and a sigh. There is so much emotion and sympathy in each space that conscious expectation and judgmental separateness are destroyed immediately. Even with the time constraint, my husband and I reveled in the absolute joy and exuberance of the grounds. The sheer personality of this property is impossible to dismiss. Which leaves one to speculate—who’s responsible for this wonder?
The origin story of Madame Ganna Walska is itself part of the appeal of Lotusland. Born on June 26, 1887 into humble Polish family, Hanna Puacz was a celebrated beauty who married a Russian baron when she was only a teenager. This marriage, like her other five, would not last long. By 1922, Hanna had remarketed herself as Madame Ganna Walska and was married to her forth husband, the uber-rich Harold McCormick, who bankrolled her dreams of being an opera singer. She lived a glamorous life in Paris for many years, only to flee Europe for America at the beginning of World War 2 and seriously undertake a life of spiritual inquiry. By 1941, she was married to her sixth and final husband, a complete charlatan and con-man, but he did introduce her to central California where she bought the property that eventually became Lotusland.
Many of the stories and articles written about Madame Walska gleefully depict the salacious details of her early life, but, for me, her most interesting season comes after she is divorced for the final time and has the opportunity to channel all of her love and creativity into creating an Eden like no other. In 1946, at the age of 59, Walska had the financial and personal freedom to shape her dream into her reality. For the next 40 years, Walska poured everything into Lotusland, often defying traditional botanical and masculine wisdom in favor of what she alone desired. For instance, around the residential quarters of Lotusland, Walska instructed prominent landscape designer Lockwood de Forest, Jr to rip out the soft landscaping and install masses of cacti. He tried to talk her out of it, telling her that the prickly species wasn’t welcoming, but she insisted. The Walska Foundation has a letter from de Forest to Madame dated years later saying “congratulations” that Madame was right about the selection and he was wrong.
To visit Lotusland is to experience the visionary brilliance of a woman who believed in herself completely. Madame Walska not only saw the world differently than many of us, she had the courage to defy convention absolutely. A self-proclaimed “enemy of the average,” Walska left behind a space where one can be immersed in life and pleasure, recharging from the hard machinery of modern existence. It was an honor to see through this woman’s eyes for just a brief time. And even though I’ve now visited it, Lotusland remains on the must-do list.
