This story is from Prisca Hill, a talented horticulture student, and daughter of BestBall co-founder, Jonathan Hill.
This Monday I had the privilege of attending the Masters for the first time. As an Augusta local, the culture surrounding the event has been ingrained in my life for as long as I can remember. The deep sense of community pride (and the equally strong annoyance at golf traffic), the anticipation for spring break, the thousands of new faces in town- all of these things make the Masters feel intrinsic to Augusta, and in turn, form the backdrop to some of my fondest childhood memories.
In the past few years, however, I’ve started to have a much more personal appreciation for the Masters. I’m a horticulture student studying landscape design, and as it turns out, the history of landscaping here is inextricably tied to the Augusta National.
Before there was a golf course, there was Fruitland Nurseries- the first major plant producer in the Southeast. Founded by Dennis Redmond and later taken over by Prosper Berckmans (the namesake of Berckmans’ Place), Fruitland Nurseries helped popularize many of the landscaping plants that now define classic southern gardens (azaleas, camellias, magnolias, etc.) and fueled Georgia’s booming peach industry. Following the death of Prosper Berckmans in 1910, the land was left to his three sons who would go on to cement the Georgia peach legacy by completing the largest peach deal in Georgia history.
But, despite all their success, Fruitland would eventually close in 1918, and the land would sit nearly dormant until 1931 when it found a new purpose—Augusta was getting a golf course. Alongside Bobby Jones and Clifford Roberts, Berckmans’ sons would return to the property to help design the course, name each of the iconic holes, and preserve thousands of the original plants.
Today, walking the grounds of the Augusta National its clear that the legacy of that once-great nursery was not thrown aside, but instead transformed into something new. The plant names assigned to each hole on the course are more than just good theming—they’re a direct homage to what was once grown in abundance on the land. For someone like me who loves plants (and knows very little about golf), paying attention to the landscaping gave me an entirely new perspective on the game itself. Almost every tee box is framed by its namesake plant, with even more guiding down the fairway. By the end of my afternoon I was able to understand and navigate the course just through the language of plants.
The sweet smell of cherry blossoms pulls you toward the 9th before you even see the Carolina Cherry trees. White Dogwoods start blooming sporadically around the 11th, creating a beautiful transition into Amen Corner, which bursts into bloom with over 1,600 individual Azalea shrubs around the 13th. The 4th hole is now named Flowering Crab after the crab apple trees guiding the right side of the green, but I still found myself correctly guessing its former name based on the lone stand of palm trees nearby.
Incredibly, many of those plants still stand where they where originally planted (like the iconic magnolias on Magnolia Lane), while others where carefully transplanted from their original locations in the 1930s to compliment the course’s design. Even now, the landscape of the Masters is carefully tended to create an almost timeless effect, as if every last leaf had been there from the day the course opened.
If I had to sum up my entire visit, I’d have to say that I was constantly amazed, not just by how beautiful and peaceful it was, but also the intentionality of it all. Growing up I remember watching the Masters on tv with every window in the house open so that we could hear the cheers of the crowd from down the road. (Even now, “crowd” seems like the wrong word for the patrons, given just how calm and respectful everything felt, even when surrounded by hundreds of people.) I remember picking azaleas in my front yard and knowing that they were just like the ones on my screen. And yet, even with all that nostalgia, all the countless years watching from just down the road and the handful of years studying the history of the nurseries, nothing could compare to being there in person.
Those same plants that once shaped an industry now continue to define the experience of the game itself on the world’s most iconic course, and in many ways, the identity of this city that I hold so dear. It’s clear that the care and intention that was first poured into this landscape has never waned, even as the course itself has evolved. It’s a rarity to find a place shaped by so much tradition and attention to detail, and yet, right in the heart of my hometown, there’s this place that does just that.
Walking through those gates felt both like the beginning of something new and coming home to a place I’ve always known. This experience gave me a new appreciation not just for the Masters, but for the landscaping, the history, and the love of a place that seems to have been shaping my career and community all along. I can’t wait for another opportunity to take it all in again.