When I was very young, my dad, Bill Gillis, Jr., decided to create a Japanese rock garden in our side yard in Miami. He wanted it to stretch along the back fence all the way to the rose garden he had planted for my mom. It seemed an ambitious project, but my dad was up to the challenge. And he allowed me to help.
My dad was a blend of scientific mind and creative inspiration. An engineer by training, he sketched out what the garden would look like: schematics, details, supplies, water pump. But he also blended it with beauty: colors, textures, shapes, sizes. It was truly a work of art.
We spent several weekends visiting garden centers where he could find what we needed for our big project. I didn’t help so much as sit on a bench, taking it all in, or chasing a garden cat. But I definitely felt a part of the project.
Our garden was covered with medium-sized white gravel and had a few small hills for landscaping texture. The centerpiece was a fish pond extending out from a rock waterfall and crossed by a gray stone bridge.
In front of the pond was an ornamental cherry tree surrounded by a short wooden log fence. Colorful pebbles filled that fenced-in area. The same pebbles lined the walkway to the pond bridge, with flat stepping stones along the way.
To the right of the pond, amid the gravel, were several miniature pagodas of different shapes, colors, and sizes. To the left of the pond was a large Juniper bush adjacent to my mom’s rose garden.
We added lily pads and goldfish to the pond. We quickly discovered the fish attracted racoons, so at night we had to cover the pond with netting. I fed the fish every day and also became fond of the tadpoles growing up among the lilies. I think at one point I tried to name them all. I loved watching them transform into tiny frogs as they grew up and hopped away.
Lizards loved running up and down the rock face of the waterfall. My cat, Taffy, liked to chase them. My mom, Joy Washburn Gillis, always remarked that we had the most tailless lizards in Miami. When Taffy wasn’t chasing those critters, she enjoyed lounging on the stone path in front of the bridge, catching the shade from the cherry tree. We also planted a calamondin orange tree in the rock garden. In the evenings before dinnertime, I’d pick the calamondin oranges for our iced tea.
To the far right of the rock garden, behind our concrete covered patio, my dad extended the gravel along beneath his grapevines. He enjoyed experimenting with homemade wine, including mango wine, thanks to the large mango tree in that side yard. A corner of our kitchen was always filled with some contraptions for making the wine. Again, science mixed with creativity. I know he had fun with that process and seeing how each batch would turn out.
We lived in that Biscayne Park house till I was 12, when we moved from Miami to Maitland in central Florida. I enjoyed growing up with that rock garden, and my friends seemed to like it too. It was always an interesting place to explore. And just something different.
I can still remember that rock garden in detail, as if I were looking right at it. But today, those memories are more about my dad than the garden. I appreciate how beautifully he always brought science and artistic creativity together. And how he was always inquisitive, curious, and willing to try new things. He was truly an inspiration.
Exploring Generations 