Wendy’s Wanderings

Oceans apart, united by nature

November 6, 2025

When I visited Japan recently, I expected to be amazed by temples, bonsais and perfectly raked gravel gardens — but what really caught my eye were the plants. Walking through Kyoto and Tokyo, I kept spotting old friends from home: camellias, loquats, fatsia, farfugium, even the ever-persistent Japanese honeysuckle. It turns out that many of the plants we grow (and sometimes battle) here in Florida share deep roots across the Pacific. Whether prized ornamentals or troublesome invaders, these japonica species form a curious botanical bridge between our subtropical yards and the gardens of Japan.

I couldn’t help laughing as I strolled through temple gardens and back-alley courtyards, realizing that half the plants I was admiring were the same ones growing around my neighborhood. There was Camellia japonica, blooming demurely under the maples — the same glossy camellia that holds court in so many Florida yards come winter. Loquats (Eriobotrya japonica) dotted the streets, their fuzzy fruit just ripening, and even the shade-loving Fatsia japonica was thriving in the same kind of damp, dappled light I try to recreate under my oaks. Japanese maple (Acer japonica) that we sometimes struggle to grow in our heat and sandy soils grew effortlessly and beautifully in its native land. I even noticed familiar groundcovers tucked along stone paths — Liriope, Ophiopogon and Aspidistra — the quiet companions of so many Florida landscapes. It was oddly comforting — like running into old friends in a faraway place — though I had to chuckle when I also spotted a tangle of Japanese honeysuckle, proving that some plants just can’t resist a good invasion, no matter what continent they’re on.

As I wandered through those gardens, it struck me how plants quietly ignore borders. The same leaves that blow in a Kyoto breeze can rustle just as easily in a Florida backyard. Gardeners, of course, are travelers too — swapping seeds, stories and sometimes the occasional invasive mistake. Our shared fascination with growing things connects us more deeply than language ever could.

But standing there among the camellias and maples, I felt reminded of how gardening connects us across oceans and climates. Whether we’re pruning in our Florida humidity or in the Japanese mist, we’re all coaxing beauty from the soil, one C. japonica at a time.