SUNDAY, AUGUST 22, 2010 SIDEORDER Yaddo Gardens, where artists grow


BY CHERYL LU-LIEN TAN Saratoga Springs,N.Y.,maybe


known for its horse races, its spas and its historic mineral springs. But for this CarsonMcCullers


andSylvia Plath acolyte, the little city near the picturesque Adiron- dacks has always been an obses- sion for another reason: Yaddo, the storied artists’ colony that has been fertile ground for thou- sands of creative spirits such as Plath and McCullers since its founding in 1900. Over the years, Yaddo artists


have won 64 Pulitzer Prizes, 27 MacArthur fellowships, 61 Na- tional Book Awards and one No- bel Prize (Saul Bellow, for litera- ture in 1976), lending more than a little credence to John Cheev- er’s description of the estate as having seen “more distinguished activity in the arts thanany other piece of ground in the English- speaking community and per- haps the world.” Many believe that the creative


powers of Yaddo (the founders’ young daughter suggested the name) lie in the 400 scenic acres of woods and lakes where co- founderKatrinaTrask once envi- sioned “literary men, literary women” finding the “Sacred Fire” as they’re “walking in the woods, wandering in the garden, sitting under the pine trees . . . creating, creating, creating!” De- cades before Katrina and her financier husband, Spencer, be- gan inviting artists to stay with


them at their Saratoga Springs mansion in the 1890s, there had been a tavern on the property that was popular with writers. It wasbelieved that one, in particu- lar, wrote part of a significant poem while staying at Barhyte’s Tavern. His name was Edgar Allan Poe. The piece? “The Ra- ven.” Most of the property, which


abuts the Saratoga Race Course, is off-limits to the general public, unfortunately. But the beautiful 10-acre Italian-style rose garden that spreads in front of the 55- room mansion is open from dawn to dusk to all visitors. And it’s hard not to feel a frisson of energy the moment you set foot in the garden. The area, which the Trasks


designed in the 1890s based on gardens they had seen on trips to Italy, is filled with massive beds of pink and yellow roses during the summer. After a $400,000 overhaul last year, its statuesand structures have a refreshed sheen to them. The first thing you’ll see is an inviting fountain filled with statues of sleeping naiads.Marble steps lead you up to a pergola blanketed in climb- ing roses. Ina cool, dark corner, a rock garden surrounded by 100- year-old pine trees emerges. In another direction, there are Ital- ian marble statues representing the four seasons—winter wields pine cones; spring bears flowers. “The gardens are meant to


provide good inspiration, maybe a little relaxation,” says Lesley Leduc, spokeswoman for Yaddo.


“Everybody needs a place to un- wind — you see that with the artists who come here and also the public. It’s a quiet thinking spot.”


Specifically for that purpose,


there’s a “poet’s corner” with a large stone bench in a shady, secluded corner of the garden. “Katrina was herself a writer, a poet and a playwright,” notes Leduc. Indeed, over the years, the


garden has been a direct source of inspiration for some poets. Plath, who had written “The Co- lossus” while at Yaddo in the 1950s, was apparently inspired by the gardens to pen “TheMan- or Garden.” “The fountains are dry and the roses over./ Incense of death. Your day approaches,” the poem begins. And a poem that Henry van Dyke wrote about the garden is not only etched on a sundial that’s the centerpiece of the place, it was also famously read by Lady Jane Fellowes at Princess Diana’s fu- neral in 1997. The piece, entitled “For Katrina’s Sun Dial,” reads in part, “Time is too slow for those


DETAILS


Yaddo Gardens 312 Union Ave., Saratoga Springs, N.Y. 518-584-0746 www.yaddo.org Open daily 8 a.m. to dusk. Guided tours are available for $5 per person at 11 a.m. on weekends from late June to early September.


who wait/ Too swift for those who fear/ Too long for those who grieve.”


Earlier this year, a childhood


dream of mine came true when I wasinvited tospendsevenweeks at Yaddo. I finished my memoir there while making sure to take breaks to poke about the Trasks’ woods and gardens. At times, the magic of the place was palpable. It’s hard, after all, not to think of Aaron Copland, Langston Hughes, Katherine Anne Porter or Henri Cartier-Bresson as you walk the narrow paths they once trod.


During my many walks at


Yaddo, the motley collection of artists there at the time would often end our journey by slowly wending our way toward a final destination: the rose garden. There, the inspiration that gripped us was sometimes pe- destrian: Once, on the Poet’s Bench, we were moved to whip out a phone to order a pizza, for example. But always, always, our talk


was of writing, of painting, of composing choral music, of dreaming up sequences for films or dance performances. More than 100 years later, Katrina Trask’s vision continues to hold true, it seems. Her garden still flourishes.Her artists still linger, “creating, creating, creating!” travel@washpost.com


Tan is a New York-based writer whose food memoir, “A Tiger in the Kitchen,” will be published by Hyperion in 2011.


KLMNO


EZ EE BOOKIT


F7


PHOTOS BY ANDREA SACHS/THE WASHINGTON POST Don’t worry, Jeff Deck will correct the misspelling in the sign above. Realmen of letters BY ANDREA SACHS Tourists inWashington are al-


ways looking for something: monuments, the Mall, the presi- dent, their hotel. On a visit last week, Jeff Deck and Benjamin Herson were no different, except that they were seeking something smaller and more subtle, a prize that could win you favors from an English teacher but has no place on a traditional postcard. “We are with theTypo Eradica-


tion Advancement League,” Deck said to a surprised waiter at Bis- tro Bistro in Dupont Circle, pre- senting a business card. The 30- year-old in the Indiana Jones- style hat explained that he had noticed a missing ‘p’ in the “red snapper” written on the menu board outside. “It reads ‘snaper,’ ” he added helpfully. The TEALsters offered to fix


the mistake, using the correction kit that dangled from Deck’s waist. The waiter graciously ac- cepted the assistance, admitting that he himself had probably omitted the consonant, his focus wavering because he was fasting. He then asked whether Deck, the designated artist of the two, could “put some decoration” on the board as well. Chalk in hand, Deck plugged in the missing let- ter, then sketched a small fish beside the name of the dish. An- other typo banished. “Once you start, it’s really hard


to stop,” said Deck of his multi- state typo pursuit. “It’s in some part of my brain at all times, but it’s not interfering withmy enjoy- ment of places.” Two years ago, Deck heard the


DAN COOPER The 180-foot pergola at Saratoga Springs’ Yaddo Gardens, part of an estate that was turned into a sanctuary for artists in 1900. BEDCHECK An ‘oasis of calm’ in . . . Ballston? You bet. BY BECKY KRYSTAL Four days with a broken air-


conditioner, and I was tired. Tired of stagnant indoor temper- atures approaching the upper 80s; tired of the dogs barking out theopenwindows;tired of forgo- ing the simple pleasure of a hot shower because it was just too darned . . . hot to take one. Something had to be done. Somy husband and I threw a


day’s worth of clothes into our backpacks and hauled the pooches out the door for a cross- county trip from our Fairlington condo to the Westin Arlington Gateway in Ballston. I’d been curious about the


hotel: I’d watched it go up sever- al years ago while driving into town along I-66 every other weekend before I moved to the area. It was also close to the in-laws (where we stashed the car to avoid the $22-a-day park- ing fee), in a part of Arlington that we don’t get to much these days, and best of all, it didn’t charge a pet fee. The hotel’sWeb site promised


an “oasis of calm.” From the get- go, we put that claim to the test. Afriendly bellman greeted us


as soon as we pulled up. He helped us with our stuff and, most important, was nonchalant when the dogs jumped out of their crate sans leashes and be- gantoscamperaroundthebuild- ing entrance. Eventually,wecorralled them


and walked into the lobby. Cool air and a palette of soothing neutrals greeted us. After I checked in and signed the requi- site pet waiver, the bellman ac-


companied us to our room and unloaded the luggage cart, down to the dog kibble. I realized that I’d forgotten to


ask about theHeavenly Dog Bed promoted online. Just as I was examining the phone to figure out whether I needed to call the concierge or some other front desk number, housekeeping knocked on the door to deliver a dog bed thatmatched the people bedspread and a pair of bowls that nestled into a carpet protec- tionmat. Thoughtful touches filled the


room in a comforting chain-ho- tel kind of way. There was a cordless phone, a recycling bas- ket and a bathroom mirror with a lighted frame, instead of the often harsh overhead bulbs. I liked the double showerhead, though its mere existence—and the fact that one of the heads had been left on—seemed in opposi- tion to the spirit of the hotel’s advertised eco-friendly policy of turning one to the off position to save water. There’s only so much examin-


ing, however, that one can do on an empty stomach. It was time to eatareal meal,aluxurybecauseI hadn’t been able to turnmy oven on for days. We dined on the patio of Pinzimini, the hotel res- taurant, where the dogs were


DETAILS


Westin Arlington Gateway 801 N. Glebe Rd. Arlington 703-717-6200 www.westinarlingtongateway. com Rooms from $135.


welcome, too. The patio faces a parklike setting called the El- lipse, peppered with plenty of benches and a central fountain. It was easy to forget the traffic buzzing by on Glebe Road. As we returned to the hotel


that evening after walking the dogs,my husband, who had nev- er seen the Westin’s Web site, suddenly said that he felt as though we were in an “oasis of calm.” Well, I thought, the hotel


delivered. Mostly,anyway.Yes, therewas


the toilet that occasionally screeched like a banshee when flushed and the beeping con- struction equipment across the street. Butwhenthe ordeal of the previous few days prompted me to compulsively check the room thermostat, it happily blinked back atmewith a beautiful “71.” Bliss.


krystalr@washpost.com


call of the road, a siren that strangely sounded like a stern grammarian. Groomed as an edi- tor,hewassensitive to the literary mistakes that litter our nation’s signs,menusandplacards. Living in Somerville,Mass., he was con- stantly mocked by a sign that read, “No Tresspassing.” To redress these errors, he embarked on a 21/2


-month-long,


33-state journey with a rotation of friends who would help him clean up the grammatical trash. One pal, Herson, joined him for two legs: Silver Spring to Los Angeles, and Madison, Wis., to Somerville. The two pals from Dartmouth College spun their ex- periences into the newbook “The Great Typo Hunt: Two Friends Changing theWorld, One Correc- tion at a Time” (Crown, $23.99). “Jeffwantedto see the country,


and he needed a reason.He didn’t want to be a hedonist,” said Her- son, 30, who again plays the side- kick during their 36-city book tour. “I confess that I was in it for the road trip, but his obsession grewon me.” For fixing mistakes, Deck car-


ried with him a transparent satchel filled with Sharpie pens in multiple colors, Wite-Out, chalk and crayons. In many cases, they wouldstealthily fix the errors, but now they ask for permission. (Spoiler alert: The reason for their switch to lawfulness is a doozy, and comes later.) “It’s about beautifying the tex-


tual landscape,” said Herson, picking up a piece of trash on Connecticut Avenue to illustrate the similarities between stray wrappers and typos. As we strolled their old stomp-


BECKY KRYSTAL/THE WASHINGTON POST Dogs get a bed of their own at theWestin Arlington Gateway.


ing grounds (Deck once worked at a now-defunct publishing house on 19th Street; Herson clocked in at the Borders at 18th and L streets), they stopped short outside a liquor store. A sheet of paper taped to the window spelled out “Spirt” — twice. The guys pointed out the mistake to the proprietress, offering to add the vowel. She demurred, saying that her husband would take care of it, then asked whether they laminated signs.


BenjaminHerson aims to beaut- ify the “textual landscape” by correcting signs such as this.


“That was a good reaction, but


the real crowning glory is if we could have actually fixed it,” said Deck, who has experienced re- sponses ranging from sweet (the woman at a shoe store in Man- chester, N.H., transformed an er- roneous apostrophe into a sprin- kling of stars) to gruff (a chef atan Albany, N.Y., fair rudely rejected their offer, then ignored them). The book is an illuminating


hybrid of travelogue, English us- age textbook and sociological ex- periment. In Atlanta, for in- stance, Deck and Herson come across T-shirts of Barack Obama’s (pre-election) image with the tag line, “He’s black and Im Proud.” The missing apostrophe sparks a lively conversation with the ven- dor that touches on politics and race. In New Orleans, they are charmed by Louisianans’ warmth and spirit, and in Santa Fe, N.M., by the city’s individuality. “Typos are really an interest-


ing lens to viewing a place,” said Deck. “And typos really are uni- versal.We all make mistakes.” Deck and Herson made one


giant blunder, though not a gram- matical one. At the Grand Can- yon, on a supposed day off from hunting, they innocently altered a sign at the Desert View Watch- tower. The culprits: “womens” and a missing comma. They swooped in with their markers and left. Months later, back in their respective homes, they heard from the National Park Service, which accused them of vandalizing federal property. They had to fly to Arizona, hire a lawyerandadmit their guilt.For a year, they were banned from the national park system and from correcting any public signs. The harshest penalty, though, was having to “forfeit” their freedom of speech. TEAL temporarily capped its Sharpies. “We feel really bad about that,”


Herson said about meddling with the 70-year-old plaque. “In the moment, we thought we were helping.” For Part II of the Great Typo


Hunt (Washington is their fifth city), Deck andHerson have tem- pered their technique but are beefing up their ranks. InNovem- ber, they plan to kick off a “50 typos in 50 states” challenge. “We’re encouraging everyone to look for typos in their neighbor- hoods or certainly when they travel,” said Deck, adding: “If you are in a restaurant, get served first. You never know what they might put in your food.” For our final foray, we ducked


into Second Story Books on P Street. The signs outside were clean, as were the ones advising customers to seek assistance with oversize books. But in the Travel section, of all places, the experts narrowed in on “Carribean.” They informed an employee, who promised to fix the mistake, which appeared in two places. Confident that the deed would be done, Deck and Herson left the store, their invisible capes blow- ing behind them. sachsa@washpost.com


For more information on the Great Typo Hunt: www.greattypohunt.com.


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