Testimony to her strong belief in the healing power of gardens

Not every garden is an island of serenity. Some are so jammed with plants and screeching color, you feel like running the other way. Sometimes, even your own handiwork inspires flight.

Not so with Debra Radvany. Her Harleysville garden is comfortable and pretty and delightfully approachable, a reflection of its creator, a master gardener who doesn't sweat stuff like invasive thistle.

"Every day out here is a gift," she says, although it's boiling hot, your sweat-soaked hair is sticking to your head, and it's not feeling like any "gift" you'd care to get.

But Radvany's for real. Her open face and warm demeanor convey a genuine love of life that she has earned.

In the fall of 1988, she was diagnosed with acute myelogenous leukemia, a fast-growing cancer of the blood and bone marrow that required chemotherapy and, in early 1989, an autologous bone-marrow transplant. That's one that involves the patient's own bone marrow, rather than a genetically compatible relative's.

It was a tough, tough time. Now, 20 years "out," Radvany is considered cured, though Willis H. Navarro, medical director of transplant services at the National Marrow Donor Program in Minneapolis, is cautious about using what he calls "the C word."

"We don't use cured very often because we don't really understand the nature of the beast long term, but once past five years, I really don't worry a whole lot about relapse," says Navarro, who treats leukemia patients and does transplants, but was not involved in Radvany's case.

The whole experience has, understandably, had a profound effect on Radvany, now 53. Jan Marcheski, a 20-year friend, notes, "Her faith has deepened, and she has a quiet strength about her because of what she's been through.

"Debbie is filled with grace," says Marcheski, a retired teacher from Vernfield.

Radvany's priorities are clear: Ernie, 53, her husband of 27 years; sons Eric, 22, and Ben, 17; and Roxy, the rescue dog.

And she finds joy in every day, whether volunteering at Christ Covenant Church in Harleysville, hanging out with her "boys," or mucking around in her perennial beds. They're scattered across almost two acres, in and around the house, pond, pool, and hot tub - and a lawn that doubles as a Wiffle Ball field and volleyball court.

Turns out, once you find joy in something, you find joy in many things. It helps to live in a wonderful place.

"I love living here. It's so peaceful," says Radvany. As if on cue, a frog croaks loudly from the tiny pond.

Over these two decades, Radvany's interest in gardening has evolved from casual to consuming, fueled by a strong belief in the healing power of gardens. It's a subject she often discusses at garden clubs on behalf of the Penn State Cooperative Extension in Montgomery County.

"Gardening isn't just a fun activity," Radvany says. "It's good for you from physical, mental, and healing perspectives, too. It's a great stress-reliever."

Gardeners know this intuitively, and so do many cultures going back millennia. But it's also science.

Studies show that being in a garden, looking at some natural scene, or even viewing a botanical mural can lower blood pressure and ease levels of fear, stress, and anger.

In such settings, hospital patients have reported less pain, requested fewer medications, had fewer complications, and recovered faster. Not by chance have hundreds of medical and other facilities rediscovered the idea of gardens as healers.

In Philadelphia, Friends Hospital, founded in 1817, was the first in the country to recognize this. More recently, Pennsylvania Hospital re-created an 18th-century "physic" or "medicine" garden, and Magee Rehabilitation Hospital planted a small healing garden.

St. Mary Medical Center in Langhorne has seven healing gardens, plus a "green roof" visible from patient rooms, all designed by Carter van Dyke Associates in Doylestown. The firm is now designing a healing garden for Virtua Memorial Hospital in Mount Holly.

"It's not landscaping. It's not just trying to beautify a place," says van Dyke. "We're creating an environment that has real physical and intellectual attributes, where a person can go and be serene."

Healing gardens are meant to be simple, private, and restful, with cheerful surprises around every corner, and plantings that highlight texture and form over big blasts of bright color.

"In a Japanese garden, they go so far as to pick the flowers off the azaleas to emphasize the greens and texture," van Dyke says.

Being embraced by nature in a garden "is to realize you're not alone in this world," says Peg Schofield, horticulture director at Cathedral Village, a retirement community in Roxborough.

"You see the plants are living, the grass is living, the flowers are living, there are animals, birds, butterflies, bees, and all of a sudden, you think, 'This is being really alive,' " says Schofield, who also teaches horticulture therapy at Temple University Ambler.

That's it exactly for Radvany, who loses herself in the garden for hours. Easy to do. She pulls up that annoying thistle and stops to admire the tie-dyed clematis and "Irish Eyes" rudbeckia. She breathes in the sweet, honey-scented "Black Knight" butterfly bush and picks rosemary on the patio.

"It's very restorative," she says, "like eight hours of sleep."

Radvany doesn't dwell on her medical history, but recognizes that it has shaped the person she has become. "Life has moved on, but it's something that's always with you," she says, adding for, oh, maybe the tenth time today, "I'm so lucky to be here."