“Earth, I thank you/for the pleasure of your language,” Anne Spencer once wrote of her gratitude for the gifts of her garden. Within the peaceful grounds of the 20th-century poet’s backyard, Earth’s language speaks volumes. Rustling leaves, swaying posies, and chattering purple martins sing nature’s own sonnet, an ode to the love of a family who has maintained the land for generations.
“I loved being in the garden as a child, when the flowers were as tall as I was,” says Shaun Spencer-Hester, executive director
