What is a Garden?

Here is an essay by my friend Sebastian, which he sent me several weeks after our meeting in the garden. Enjoy!

What is a Garden?
by Sebastian Piquette

It is the morning of Summer Solstice and I step through the almost familiar turns of the Botanical Gardens that lead into their Japanese garden. The rafts of irises are enough to submerge me body and soul – and they do; my eyes are wet and my stomach flutters. Even one iris can startle and captivate me with its colour and lines. What chance do I have against thousands of them?

After a brief search my eye settles on the familiar figure hunched over a notebook. She is writing, and writing is what we have both come here to do together. I am prepared to take out my own notebook and simply acknowledge that we are together for this with a head nod and a crinkle at the corner of my eyes. While she is a calmly inspirational presence in my writing life, I would never claim that I am that for her and that last thing I wish to do is interrupt her train of thought.

It was on Angela’s impetus that I have come here to write but it was on my instigation that we planned to meet on the solstice. I’ve become much more conscious over the past few years of the eight dates that divide the pagan calendar into equal parts. If I hope to honour the cycles of nature, why not give myself the luxury of retreating into one of the pockets of this city that holds the city at bay?

What is a garden? It is not, as I once might have believed, a corner of nature untouched by the influence of my species. I’d have to travel far and with no little inconvenience to find that – and I would most definitely not have had such a blissfully insane number of irises to enjoy. A garden is an artifice, and someone has combed through and combined the elements of nature to deliver a multi-sensory experience. And, as with any art form, someone who chooses to experience that garden also has input into what that experience will be.

While I do not confess to having tasted and eaten anything in this garden (for fear of banishment?) this gem of sensuality certainly plays to sight and touch, hearing and smell. Around me are people choosing how they move and what they do in the garden: tai chi, jogging, reclining, eating, talking, taking photographs, writing, and resting. Their experiences are coloured by whether they are alone or not, or with whom they have elected to come. To my surprise it is Angela’s choice to break our silence and as we talk over the week’s events and issues, I know we are freeing our inner spaces to prepare for the pursuit of writing. When a friend of hers arrives later and joins us in our chat, it occurs to me that I am not doing anything to bring us back to our pens and notebooks.

Somewhere just out of visual range but close enough to the garden to intrude on the sounds of wind playing with the leaves and water dancing in the brook, someone is playing music. It doesn’t belong in ‘my’ garden and I observe once again that people who think everyone should be subjected to their music not only have the poorest taste in music but also use sound systems that distort the music at the high volumes forced through them.

So I banish myself from the garden. I cannot clear my inner space to write while this noise keeps filling it. I marvel at Angela’s ability to focus, at her inner garden. But I leave without disappointment. The morning has been perfect otherwise, I’m eager for the rest of the day, and I will be back.

Sebastian Piquette is a special ed. teacher. Over the decades his creative passions have included singing, composing, writing, and gardening. Other interests include nature, sign language, ancient history, and watching dance shows. He loves Montreal and is a member of the Montreal Botanical Garden.