The Skirball’s Getty Garden Fellow, Nik Berne brings together her background in education, visual art, and her work as a Certified Watershed Wise Landscape Professional to inspire hands-on, nature-based experiences. We asked her to share about her work in the Noah’s Ark learning garden creating experiences that foster a deeper connection with the natural world.

How is gardening connected to Jewish culture?

NIK BERNE: When we physically dig in the soil, pick flowers, or plant seeds, we forge a relationship with nature instead of simply looking at it. These experiences naturally spark questions, and I love that because asking questions is at the heart of Jewish learning. But rather than giving participants all the answers, we invite them to explore, wonder, and discover through hands-on experiences in the garden.

Mindfulness gives us permission to slow down and notice what we might otherwise overlook. Taking a moment to listen to birds singing or watch a bee visit a flower reminds us to approach the world with gratitude and intention. Those quiet moments reflect the Jewish value of kavanah (bringing intention to what we do) and invite us into a deeper connection with the world around us.

Play is where those discoveries become joyful. Through games, storytelling, art, and exploration, participants build relationships with one another while developing a sense of belonging. They aren’t just learning about community; they are experiencing it.

Sustainability becomes a natural extension of that relationship. When we compost or plant for pollinators, we understand that our actions have consequences. Those everyday choices reflect Jewish values like bal tashchit (do not waste) and remind us that caring for the earth isn’t a single act but an ongoing endeavor.

What is the lesson you hope visitors to the garden take home with them?

NB: I hope visitors leave the Noah’s Ark learning garden with a sense of curiosity, wonder, and a stronger connection to the world around them. There is something uniquely powerful about touching the soil, smelling herbs, harvesting plants, and observing living ecosystems. Learning becomes personal. Those experiences create memories that stay long after a visit.

One of my favorite moments to share with visitors is harvesting chamomile flowers. Together, we pick the flowers, talk about how they can be stepped for tea, and then they take them home. Later, when they brew that tea, they can remember the plant they harvested and the garden where it grew. That simple memory can spark a new way of thinking. Because they now have a relationship with that plant, instead of throwing the used tea leaves into the trash, they can compost them, allowing those nutrients to return to the soil and help grow the next generation of plants. In that moment, they become part of the same natural cycle they experienced in the garden. It is a tangible example of bal tashchit and a reminder that even small actions can help care for the earth.

I want visitors to leave seeing that nature is not separate from their daily lives, but something they participate in every day through the choices they make. Jewish tradition teaches that we are both beneficiaries of the natural world and responsible for its care. If the garden experience can help someone notice the connections between the food they eat, the waste they create, and the living systems that sustain us, then we have done more than teach a fact. We have invited them into a relationship with the earth that honors the world we have inherited and helps ensure it thrives for future generations.

 

You have been hosting workshops with community partners in the garden. What have you learned from these partnerships?

NB: That no one has all the answers. Each collaborator brings a different lens, and together we’ve created experiences that are richer than any one of us could have designed on our own.

One workshop that stands out was partnering with graffiti artist Siyo-win Peters. Watching guests observe the colors and textures in the garden before transforming those observations into vibrant works of art reminded me that nature isn’t simply the backdrop for creativity; it’s an inspiration.

Working with Shemesh Farms reinforced something similar. Whether participants were painting with watercolors or decorating pots before planting marigold seeds, the activity itself wasn’t what made the experience meaningful. It was the conversations, shared discoveries, and moments of joy that unfolded along the way. That spirit of collaboration has become one of the defining qualities of the Skirball’s Art and Nature Workshops.
 

Can you describe the teaching methodology that begins inside and now continues outside Noah’s Ark?

NB: The garden is a natural extension of the learning that begins inside Noah’s Ark. Both spaces invite children to learn through curiosity, play, observation, and experimentation rather than by simply being told information. As families move from Noah’s Ark into the garden, the learning continues seamlessly, just with the added richness of being surrounded by the natural world.

Every space in the garden is intentionally designed to encourage open-ended exploration while connecting visitors to Jewish values through lived experience. In the Herb Pe’ah Garden, where Shemesh Farms grows herbs for their spice blends, children might feed the worms in the vermicompost, spread the finished compost around the herb beds, and then “harvest” herbs to share at the nearby farm stand. Through play, they experience a complete food cycle and begin to understand bal tashchit not as an abstract idea, but as something in which they can participate. As they play, children naturally begin asking questions like, “What happens if I feed the worms?” or “How does compost help a plant?” They aren’t memorizing a lesson about composting; they’re discovering cause and effect for themselves.

What may look like simple pretend play also becomes an opportunity to practice community, generosity, and hospitality. For example, in the living willow hut, children gather natural materials to prepare imaginative meals for friends and family around the stump tables. Throughout the garden, learners are invited to slow down, notice details, ask questions, and care for the living world around them. Those experiences cultivate not only sensory exploration, but also a sense of stewardship, reminding visitors that we all have a role in caring for creation and for one another.

My hope is that children leave not with a single lesson, but with the confidence that they can continue exploring, asking questions, and making discoveries wherever they encounter nature.