WHEN H. M. Wallace
sought health in a western climate in 1912, he came to the little place called Embudo, on
the Denver & Rio Grande. He saw the big cool shade trees on the station grounds and
knew that someone who had formerly lived there had a soul, willing to contribute a
blessing to those who were to follow.
This oasis in a seeming desert brought visions to his active mind of a garden that might
be, and he thought the trees looked lonely in their setting of bare sand, so he decided to
do his bit and build a home for them and now there stands as a memorial to the visionary
garden of his mind the "Garden of Rocks" of today.
It was slow work at first, to make this Eden with hands; but slowly and surely it took
shape and grew until now it is a true beauty spot and a delight to all who see it.
Mr. Wallace worked in seclusion and expected to finish the work and move on before it was
discovered, and he felt very embarrassed when his work was suddenly found, and he felt
gratified when it was approved by all of the company officials and employes who saw the
work that was being started. Not an official of this railroad or any other railroad who
has passed through Embudo has anything but the highest praise to offer for Mr. Wallace's
unique and rare work.
This garden of rocks was made possible by the inspiration and genius of Mr. Wallace, and
the generosity of the railroad in furnishing him all the material necessary to do the
work. Carloads of rocks and cement have been sent to Embudo to help Agent Wallace in this
great work, which he has done at odd moments when the duties of being agent did not demand
his time.
Embudo is in an artists' country. There are artists' colonies in Taos and Santa Fe, and
the main highway is by Embudo. The artists traveling by are attracted by this unique
spectacle and investigate it, always offering the highest praise. Pictures have been taken
of Embudo and sent back to Mr. Wallace from all parts of the world.
One of the leading five artists of the world has aptly named Embudo, "A Picture Done
in Rocks Instead of Oils." A member of a noted firm of architects has said that he is
glad to have seen it, after having seen everything of architectural interest in the world.
Not a jagged edge is left. One may lean against any part of the buildings without catching
or tearing the finest clothes, The rocks are pointed, but they are so placed that the
surface is entirely smooth.
One of the most interesting spectacles is the "Rock-a-Day Tower." This tower is
being built by placing only one rock a day. Every rock represents a small act for each.
Mr. Wallace says that this plan was adopted because he felt there was no time to devote to
such a large structure, so, he is letting time itself accomplish the task. The tower is
constructed to carry telegraph and telephone wires terminating in the station.
Near the station is a tiny grave floored with three terraces of unbroken white quartz and
then walled to prevent injury by range cattle. This is the grave of the baby of Ray
Wasson, who was agent at Embudo years ago. TO
look at the Embudo station today one would never realize that before Mr. Wallace took over
the work it was just an old wooden structure like many others we see daily. By his
tireless energy and
ambition and with about ten trainloads of material, Mr. Wallace has started a masterpiece.
The station is entirely veneered with unbroken cobblestones with a cornice of broken
mineralized quartz. The freight house is veneered with unbroken malapie.
The artistic sign, "'Embudo," is hung on two pendulums of cable chain
terminating in the link and pin of earlier days of railroading, and its total weight is
six hundred and ten pounds. Despite this weight this Mosaic sign with obsidian background
and letters of white quartz is so well balanced that it sways like a pendulum in the wind.
The waiting room in the station is all of concrete and rocks. The ticket window is
constructed of locomotive firedoor chains anchored in a section of No. 30 rail. The
wainscoting is of broken mineralized quartz, and the polished concrete table tops are
ornamented by bridge spikes.
Directly beneath the ticket window, at the back of the safe which faces in the office, is
a hole in the rocks left for a memorial. Mr. Wallace has specimens of rocks from all parts
of the world, sent to him by officials, employes and other people passing through who
became interested in his work. He is going to embed these specimens with a history in this
alcove. If anyone has a rock specimen he would like to add to this memorial it would be
thank fully received by Mr. Wallace, and a little history of the rock should accompany it.
There is no furniture in the office, with the exception of the chair upon which Mr.
Wallace sits. A concrete desk about eighteen inches wide extends on two sides of the room.
All the boards have been removed from the joists and the openings have been utilized as
record space. In one corner is a stand made of cement and rocks, and on its is a vat and
press. The entire floor of the waiting room and the office is tiled, and the rooms are
finished with a raw wood from which the bark has been stripped.
The cabin kitchen is entirely lined with mineralized white quartz, and the artistic effect
and arrangement of the stove, tables, and sink in little nooks and niches makes a very
attractive kitchen. Above the sink is a little niche for a looking glass and toilet
articles. A hole about five feet deep lined with smooth rocks, and with steps leading down
into it makes an original and comfortable standing bath.
In the little cellar, under the kitchen, which is kept cool by air vents, is a model rock
refrigerator, another clever idea made practical by the versatile agent.
In the Garden of Rocks there is a summer sleeping room with an open-air fireplace. The
roof is canvas and the walls are of rock and this beautiful room nestles among elms which
were at the beginning of the work mere twigs contributed by sympathetic friends.
In the midst of our Eden is a spring of cool sparkling water. Growing in the water are
beautiful water lilies, and peeping from behind the lilies is a large, oddlyshaped rock
which resembles a big frog.
The artistic effect is wrought entirely in unbroken rocks, attained merely by placing them
with a sympathetic regard for restfulness and responsive vision, for they have been placed
so that when you look at them they quietly look back at you.
The big, tall shade trees on the station grounds look down at the winding paths lined with
rocks as they circle in and out at the base of the trees, down near the spring, and wind
away again to the flowers, and as the cool breeze shakes their leaves they murmur low how
happy they are to live in the Garden of Rocks and to be part of the picture done in rocks
by the Agent at Embudo.
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Embudo Depot c1920
Grounds and Cabin
Entrance
Ticket Window
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