A Poet in the Garden

Rambling with Rosie

2010-03-24T18:43:00.001-07:00

Rosie Evans, a visiting hypnotherapist from Bristol, joined me in the garden on October 19^th last year. She grew up in an idyllic small English village in the Cotswolds and recalls with great fondness her free roaming childhood wandering the ancient barrows. Her father kept bees and was an amateur lepidopterist. Nature was a big part of the curriculum at school too. “We were always sent out collecting things in nature,” she says. She and her classmates read The Tale of Peter Rabbit, The Wind in the Willows and other classic stories that personified nature. Rosie laments that personification these days has fallen out of style, but she believes that it is one of the most effective ways of creating in children a connection to nature

Although Rosie lived in Montreal for six year before returning to England in 1974, she never visited the Botanical Garden. Today we ramble through the many themed gardens and she is astonished by the diversity of plants that grow in our northern climate.

Rosie is especially drawn to the Amerindian garden. They have recently erected a tepee and we both crawl in through the flap opening. On our way out, Rosie’s hair gets caught on a piece of Velcro and we have to yank her hair to free her. This is something aboriginal people certainly never had to contend with. I leave Rosie in the Amerindian garden to write while I head to the Japanese Garden, which is just on the other side of a row of trees.

Rosie wrote these lines about the larch that she is standing in front of in the above photo.

Golden branched larch leaning

To a shaft of autumn sun

For a moment

Between summer and winter

The year’s spirit escaping with the falling needles

Soft, soft, silence…

Lotus ladies lolling in
Wilted soft crepe dresses.

And finally, she wrote this poem inspired by the huge standing rolls of burlap that we glimpsed earlier in the day.

Garden Servants

Trolls, monsters, lurching mummies, looming

winter warmers.

Leaning like lazy drunk companions

across the fence

Waiting while the days shorten and cool

To spread their soft protective fleece

around the sleeping plants

They are the unsung servants of the garden.

In the Soan

2010-03-24T15:02:00.000-07:00

I’ve come to the garden today with my new friend Rosie Evans, who is visiting Montreal from Bristol, England. Rosie has chosen the Amerindian Garden to write in, while I’m in my old haunt, the little wooden soan, which looks out over the pond in the Japanese Garden. On the wall behind me, a small plaque explains that the soan is “a modest shelter set apart from city noises, where poets and others would retire to regain contact with nature.

I sit looking toward the pond, which has been drained for winter. The sun has some warmth, but I am wearing gloves today. It is the season of impermanence, the yellow leaves getting ready to fall. Only a few clumps of chrysanthemums and asters are still in bloom.

were we to meet

only for a brief time

too short

this summer of love

the leaves

are falling, scattering

in the breeze

I know I must give him

a long leash

maybe

he’ll be back

I’ll just let him be

and wait

for the last leaves to fall

I don’t

deny it

there’s greed

in how much

I desired him

I clung to him

like a leaf to the maple

now I let go--

not him but the wind

that sets me adrift

patience

and faith

that he’ll return

the cat too ran away

and came back

how beautiful

the yellow-leafed

coffeetree

the sun brightens

then slips behind clouds

Waterlily Ways

2010-03-17T13:19:00.000-07:00

Something about waterlilies suggests romance, perhaps because they seem so relaxed, just floating on the water.

sunrise

waterlily

waiing for him

to reveal

his intentions

waterlilies--

each step

toward him

like walking

on water

sitting

by the waterlilies

I smile

as if I

were a waterlily too

Lotus Love

2010-03-17T12:45:00.001-07:00

Another haiku poet who I ran into at the Haiku North America Conference was Jessica Tremblay, a former Qubecer who now lives in Vancouver. Jessica is known for her haiku comic strip Vieil Etang, which you can look at on her website at http://vieiletang.site.voila.fr/. She also writes a blog called Tess in the West (tess-in-the-west.xanga.com).

I mentioned to Jessica about my own blog and she said that what she loved most about the Montreal Botanical Garden were the lotuses. She asked me to send her some photos, but I didn't get to the garden until early September and by then the lotuses were at the end of their bloom. But I did manage to get some photos and write a few poems.

So, this is for you, Jessica! Hopefully we will meet in the garden in person one day--either here or in one of the many gardens in Vancouver.

I'll start with a photo I took earlier in the summer.

lotus leaves
large
as umbrellas
I know where to come
on a rainy day

my mother
both strong
and beautiful
lotus flowers
on tall sturdy stems

my pen tumbles

into the lotus pond

no way

to take back

my words

patches of water

shining

in the lotus garden

in my life too

small pockets of light

I meditate

on a lotus flower--

the softness

of petals

protecting the seed

those unusual seed pods

of the lotus--

older women

have such

interesting faces

Homestay Weekend at the MBG

2010-03-09T18:53:00.000-08:00

This August, as I have done for the past few years, I hosted two students during McGill University's "Homestay Weekend," which is part of their summer Intensive English Program for Asian Students. It is always a pleasure to spend a few days with these enthusiastic young students. This year I welcomed Saya Takasugi and Rie Kobayashi from Japan. Naturally I took them for an outing to the Montreal Botanical Garden. Here they are posing at the entrance to the Japanese Garden.

On a beautiful, sunny Saturday afternoon (for once there was no rain in the forecast) we sat in the outdoor pavilion and chatted about haiku. Both Saya and Rie were knowledgeable about haiku and had studied it in primary school. For the Japanese, the "kigo" or "season word or phrase" is the starting point of the poem. This is different from our Western tradition which begins with a moment or feeling. However, I decided today to try the Japanese approach.

Together we came up with a list of season words typical of mid-August in Montreal. Our list included: baby koi, first red leaves on the rhododendron, cicada screech, white hosta flowers, ripening berries, rhododendrons' waxy leaves,, horse tail, lotus flowers and iris pods. Once we had our list, we then each went our own way in the garden to write haiku based on any of these kigo. After half an hour, we met again in the pavilion to share what we had written.

It's difficult for us in the West to understand the tremendous respect that the Japanese have for haiku. Both Saya and Rie felt that their poems were not worthy to be considered true haiku. Personally I thought their poems were very good, but they were very shy and asked me not to include their haiku on my blog.

I am not as humble as they are, so here are the haiku I wrote.

*

cool breeze
the round full heads
of snowball hydrangea

*

lotus flowers--
the plain girl smiles
for the camera

*

lazy Saturday
even the bee asleep
in the hosta

*

And here is one final haiku dedicated to my two lovely homestays:

*

Japanese hydrangea
two girls from Tokyo
apply lip gloss

Deborah Kolodji at the Garden

2010-03-02T10:37:00.000-08:00

happiness
is a bouquet
I cannot pick
just admire this bed
of fragrant pinks

In early August I attended the Haiku North America Conference, which takes place every two years and which this year was held at the National Library in Ottawa. It brought together nearly 100 haiku poets from around the world for five activity-packed days. It was a great opportunity to meet poets who I have known only through their work.

One such poet is Deborah P. Kolodji, who gave a fascinating presentation on sci-fi haiku, something I had never heard of before, but which has quite an interesting history. Deborah is President of the Science Fiction Poetry Association, editor of Tiny Stars, a sci-fi poetry magazine, and is also one of the organizers of the Southern California Haiku Study Group located in Pasadena.

When Deborah mentioned that she would be visiting Montreal after the conference, I invited her to join me in the garden and she enthusiastically agreed. She called me when she got to Montreal and we arranged to meet on the platform at Pie IX Metro. Unfortunately, things didn't work out the way we planned. When I got to Pie IX, Deborah was nowhere in sight. I waited for awhile, but train after train went past and still no Deborah.

so many things
could have conspired
to keep her from coming--
loneliness
is never planned (AL)

At the same time, Deborah was searching in the garden for me and penned this haiku:

summer roses
I ask the bronze lion
where you are (DK)

I finally decided to leave the metro and head for the garden. I hoped I might run into her on the way but no such luck. I passed the Peace Garden, with the beautiful bed of pinks, which you can see in the photo above. Then I wandered around the exhibition garden, hoping to catch a glimpse of Deborah's long brown hair and smiling face.

not even a moon
tonight
in the garden
you too
remain out of sight (AL)

In the meantime, Deborah was in another part of the garden.

lost in a garden
where the signs are in French
a butterfly follows me
across the zigzag
bridge (DK)

As I was writing this tanka,

under a gray
somber sky
I waited for you
but all that came
were a few drops of rain

Deborah was writing this haiku inspired by the Olympic Stadium:

stadium quiet
across the street
I listen for dragonflies

After about 45 minutes in the garden with no sight of Deborah, I was ready to give up and go home. But on my way to the front gates, I suddenly heard my name and there was Deborah rushing toward me. All's well that ends well, and the good thing is we both had plenty of time on our own to write some poems.

dusk falling
in a moon garden
I find my way
illuminated
by flowers (AL)

almost dusk
the garden fragrant
with possibility (DK)

We walked to the Chinese garden and sat in the gazebo near the Bridge of Dreams. I took the following photo of Deborah with her camera and she took one of me.

We had a wonderful, relaxing chat as darkness fell. Deborah told me about her own haiku group, which meets in the Pacific Asia Museum in Pasadena. Perhaps one day I'll make it to California and be able to visit their group.

we bask
in lantern glow
summer evening (DK)

As it was now getting quite late, we left the garden and caught the metro back to my place for home made pizza. After all that walking around the garden looking for each other, we found we had worked up quite an appetite.

Deborah has a blog of her own called "Poetry Scrapbook and Random Musings"
(dkolodji.livejournal.com). Her website is http://www.kolodji.com/.

Last of the Lilies

2010-02-28T14:15:00.001-08:00

I decide to go to the garden today after dinner. Usually I go early in the morning to catch the first light but today I am in the mood for something different.

I enter through the gates that lead onto the main exhibition garden. It borders the Botanical Gardens restaurant and there is a jazz band playing on the terrasse.

jazz band

on the terrasse

I admire

trumpet

lilies

This summer I decided to join eharmony and one of the men I'm corresponding with has an unusual hobby.

a rumba beat

drifts across the garden--

remembering

that air force captain

who's mad about tap dancing

I guess tap dancing is his way of grounding himself.

After a decade of focussing solely on my son, I'm ready to think about a relationship again.

alone on a bench

by the lilies

I watch couples

young and old

passing by

Of course, when you aren't part of a couple it's easy to idealize what having a relationship is all about.

such perfection

these Asiatic lilies

could be plastic--

the way happiness looks

from the outside

I sit by the lilies

in the summer dusk

still wondering

why success of any sort

eludes me

It's good to spend time in a garden, because even if you're alone it's hard not to be carried away by the beauty all around you. Lilies are especially lovely and I'd forgotten how profusely fragrant they are.

shifting priorities--

the scent of these

lilies

much more

than I imagined

These are the last of this year's lilies, so I'm appreciating them while I can.

two boys and a girl

taking photos

by the reflecting pool--

youth is a lily

fragrant and bright

a young girl

balances on the edge

of the reflecting pool--

that was once me

unafraid of taking risks

(This post was originally written on July 26th, 2009).

The Flowery Brook

2010-02-28T13:33:00.000-08:00

I told my friend Channah that I would meet her in the Flowery Brook, but because it looked like rain we decided to meet in our usual place, the Green Shade Pavilion at the Chinese Garden

I arrived early and sat down at the little stone table in the shelter of the open air pavilion. This is the same place where last year a group of haiku poets led by Rick Schnell from Vermont came to Montreal and we met for a day of readings and good conversation. The echoes of so many poets and their haiku must still linger, because I was inspired to write a few of my own as I waited for Channah.

longing--
a little sparrow
in search of food

*

Darwin--
before meeting him
just a city in Australia

*

mid-summer
rain and more rain
his smile is the sun

*

like Eve
I give in too easily
to suggestion

Since it was now 8a.m. and Channah had not arrived, I decided to head off on my own.

in the gazebo
I leave her a note: meet me
in the flowery brook

It had started to rain heavily by now, but even so I couldn't help admiring the lilies' vibrant colours.

When I finally looked up, I saw Channah rushing toward me on the path.

in our excitement
to view the lilies
we share
the same umbrella
and both get wet

oh, to be a duck
she exclaims
as we stand
admiring lilies
in the downpour

*
wandering
through the lilies
so easy
to give in
to excess

my ink spreading
in the rain
the colours
of lilies
stain my eyelids

After our brief, wet visit to the garden, Channah and I parted until the next time. On the metro home, I noticed a poster about the Montreal Planetarium and learned that this is the International Year of Astronomy.

International
Year of Astronomy--
paying more attention
to stargazer
lilies

Later in the week I received this email:

Angela,

Here is the haiku I wrote in the gardens.

Hot summer showers
Caught in woven strands of webs
One raindrop quivers

How truly healing this was for me... In the wholeness of rain... we are all still one drop that quivers, fragile, unique and beautiful.

All the best,
Channah

(This blog post was originally written in July, 2009)

J.J. Locke and "The Lover's Bench"

2009-07-30T07:44:00.000-07:00

I recently met my friend J.J. Locke early one morning in the garden. I was surprised to learn that Jack, who hails from Calgary but has lived in Montreal for a number of years, had never been to the Botanical Garden before. As I took him on a quick tour, he was astonished at the size of the garden and the unique beauty of the many theme gardens. A baker by profession, he revealed that he also occasionally works at installing koi ponds. He was impressed by the pond in the Japanese garden and we stopped to admire its spectacular koi.

With the overcast sky threatening an imminent downpour, we decided to head over to the exhibition garden, where if necessary we could find shelter in one several large pergolas.

Of particular interest in the exhibition garden is Lea Vivot’s controversial bronze entitled “The Lover's Bench.” I remember the sculpture when it was on Sherbrooke Street near McGill University. I prefer it here in the garden tucked away under the trees at the head of the small pool and fountain. Here is a playful photo of Jack posing with the three lovers depicted in the sculpture.

I met Jack when he first came to Montreal. He was living at the time in my own neighbourhood of Verdun. Jack is a real organizer and established a memorable poetry reading series at a former Verdun cafe called “Van Gogh’s Ear.” He has since founded The Foundation for Public Poetry and last September organized the highly successful Montreal Public Poetry Festival. This year he is putting together a collection of poems in honour of Leonard Cohen’s 75th birthday. Jack is hoping to raise money through book sales and a Gala to finance a Writer-in-Residence Programme at Westmount High, Cohen’s former school.

But today we were both concentrating on the garden, which after so much rain this summer was lush and green. We each picked a spot—fortunately the rain held off—and settled down to write. At the end of our writing session, Jack presented me with the following villanelle composed on the spot.

As a poetry form, the villanelle has been around for at least three hundred years. With its frequent refrains and complex rhyming, it has its origins in native songs. The name itself derives from the Italian villa, or country house, where noblemen went to relax and get closer to nature, making this a form of poetry ideally suited to writing about a garden.

Here is Jack’s poem—probably the first ever villanelle inspired by the Montreal Botanical Garden.

Pondering My Future At Jardin Botanique

For K.E.S.

Pondering my future at Jardin Botanique
The rain impacts in a craterous way
Surrounded by flowers, yet, only one I seek.

The grey above cannot bring about bleak
Nor can my departure from earning pay
Pondering my future at Jardin Botanique

I see her eyes reflect from stones in creek
I see her eyes in every lily day
Surrounded by flowers, yet, only one I seek.

When peace of parks and poetry become chic
The message of birds we'll learn to obey
Pondering my future at Jardin Botanique

As proud leaves drop I hear them speak
Returning to you pushes my pain away
Surrounded by flowers, yet, only one I seek.

I sense your scent when I press cheek to cheek
I sense you worry when I'm away
Pondering my future at Jardin Botanique
Surrounded by flowers, yet, only one I seek.

J.J. Locke

While Jack worked on his villanelle, I wrote a few tanka in one of the pergolas. If tanka can be considered "a quick check on the state of the heart," then here's what I'm thinking about at the moment.

in the garden
at the height of summer
if I could choose
only one
which flower would I pick?

*

Adam alone
in paradise
rain on the climbing vines
even before
he dreamt of Eve

*

told
I lack subtlety
still
there’s nothing shy
about this crimson begonia

along the stone wall
a clematis’s
lush flowering
the need for love

overwhelms me

the clematis’s leaves
are beautiful too
but this bee
like a man
goes straight for the flower

In the Rose Garden with Ann Lloyd

2009-07-23T10:52:00.000-07:00

Opened in 1976, the Rose Garden of the Montréal Botanical Garden stretches over 2.5 hectares, with some one hundred beds and nearly 10,000 roses from over one thousand different varieties. In 2003, it was recognized internationally with the “Award of Garden Excellence” from the World Federation of Rose Societies, making it one of the first rose gardens outside of Europe and the youngest ever to receive this highly prestigious award.

that man
thousands of miles
away
roses in bloom
at my feet

I invited my friend Ann Lloyd to meet me one morning in the rose garden. Ann is originally from Wales and the author of Lurching into the Looney Bin, her unique guide on how to prepare for dementia, stroke or other medical calamity. Her clever use of wit and humour makes it easier--and even fun--to ponder the unthinkable. Her book has been garnering a fair amount of attention from health care professionals and Ann was just back from a conference sponsored by the women of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Canada at Laurentian University in Sudbury, where she was one of their keynote speakers.

no one promised
us a rose garden
yet here we sit
on a sunny bench
in a sea of blooms

Ann is also a talented poet and I looked forward to a morning of writing with her. And where better than the rose garden at its peak! Ann immediately gravitated to the bronze statue of The First Jewels, produced in New York in 1973 by Romanian artist and concentration camp survivor, Alice Winant.

Ideally placed among the rose beds, The First Jewels captures the whimsical mood of a young woman, but there’s an unmistakeable air of sadness too. We settled on a bench nearby and Ann later sent me this beautiful lyric poem.

In the Rose Garden: Alice's Girl

She is here
Alice's girl
bronzed and curved
statuesque
amongst the roses.
Arms outstretched but empty.
her necklace gone,
sad past Romanian.
Someone, come
necklace her with roses!
festoon her with blossoms!
Let her hands pink with petals crushed.
Rose perfume her.
Drape her, garland her,
bring her back to summer's life.
Sad statuesque
young maiden
Alice's past
love lost amongst the roses.

by Ann Lloyd

If you're interested in finding out more about Ann's book, you can email Ann at oldfartspublishing@hotmail.com.

Passion for Peonies

2009-07-17T10:59:00.000-07:00

I love peonies. There is nothing like these huge, elegant flowers that bloom so faithfully year after year. Cultivated in China for more than 2000 years, where they are regarded as symbols of wealth, luck and happiness, peonies are among the longest-used flowers in ornamental culture.

They are named after Paeon, who was a student of Asclepius, the Greek god of medicine. Unfortunately for Paeon, his teacher became jealous of him. The only way Zeus could save the brilliant youth from Asclepius’s wrath was to turn him into a peony flower. In other Western folklore, mischievous nymphs were said to hide among the petals, while in the language of flowers, peonies take on the meaning of Shame or Bashfulness.

Here are some photos and poems from the height of peony season at the Montreal Botanical Garden. Peonies may be found throughout the garden, but especially in the Chinese and Japanese gardens as well as in the Flowery Brook area.

someone has cast
a peony flower
into the pond—
drifting uncertainly
this love of ours

peonies

in bloom
he leaves me
a poem
on the kitchen table

tall, lanky man—
come sit with me
by the peonies
and watch that mallard
woo his mate

pink peonies
delicately scented,
ruffled and pretty
I was once
a love struck teen

distracting me
from my contemplation
of pink peonies
that noisy

red-winged black bird

he doesn’t have
street smarts, they say
of the son
I drag to the garden
peony viewing

slowly
shedding
the weight of beauty
peony petals
on the lawn

just petals
on the grass
and dead yellow stamens
all that remains
of yesterday’s splendour

white petals
tinged with brown
beside them
tightly packed buds
ready to explode

I’ll whisper
as he sleeps
the sound
of white peony petals
falling

In Search of the "Fleur de lis"

2009-07-15T08:28:00.000-07:00

In honour of St. Jean Baptiste Day, I decided to sally forth to the Montreal Botanical Garden in search of the true fleur de lis. This iconic symbol of France and its former colonies is particularly beloved in Quebec, where four blue fleur de lis decorate its flag. In French, fleur de lis literally means "lily flower," however, it is widely thought that the image is a stylized version not of the lily, but the iris. More specifically, it is believed to be inspired by the iris pseudocorus, a variety of yellow flag iris.

On my way to the garden, I passed the Olympic stadium, which is located on the south side of Sherbrooke Street opposite the front gates of the garden. The Quebec flags looked beautiful against the blue morning sky.

I have always found St. Jean Baptiste Day to be a fascinating holiday in that people seem unusually open and friendly, as was the case today as I walked up Pie IX Boulevard to the garden

St. Jean Baptiste Day--
I exchange greetings
with a Tibetan monk

Here is a photo of a yellow iris, but of the bearded rather than the flag variety.

Below is a photo of a bed of white flag iris.

Here is a photo of pale blue iris.

In the last photo is a beautiful specimen of a blue flag iris and it seems to indeed show the outlines of a real fleur de lis.

Mission accomplished, I headed out of the garden and off to a St. Jean Baptiste Day brunch with friends.

St. Jean Baptiste Day
I celebrate with a Finn
a Welshwoman
two Greeks
and a Scot

Bonne fete de la St. Jean!

What is a Garden?

2009-07-14T10:40:00.001-07:00

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.

The First Nations Garden

2009-07-14T10:38:00.001-07:00

seeds flying
on the longest day
of the year—
I too am looking
for a place to land

The First Nations Garden of the Montreal Botanical Garden was the place to be on June 21st. Not only was it the summer solstice, but it was Aboriginal Day in Canada, a tradition begun in 1996 as a way of celebrating native cultures. That Aboriginal Day is held on the same day as the solstice is no accident—marking the day “the sun stands still” has been an important part of Native culture from earliest times. For the past 5 years, the Amerindian Garden has played host to the Solstice des Nations, which also serves as the kickoff event of the Fete National du Quebec.

The ceremonies began at dawn with the lighting of a bonfire. At 10AM, a traditional fire ceremony began. Mohawk elder Sedalio Fazio made a dramatic entrance.

heating the skin
of her drum
over the bonfire
a medicine woman
in ceremonial dress

She has a powerful, stirring voice and chanted to the accompaniment of her drum.

painted bear head
on her drum—
while the elder chants
the wind
sings its own song

The fire ceremony was conducted by Dominique Rankin, an Anishnabe elder, who spoke in French and Sedalio Fazio in English.

asking the Creator
for permission
to speak English
she welcomes us
to Mohawk territory

She spoke the words “Mohawk territory” with such authority that a gasp rippled through the crowd of well over 100 people. It was a shock to be reminded that we were indeed on Mohawk territory, but we were welcomed and invited to become part of “one mind.”

Madame Fazio appealed to all the various elements of the earth—water, fish, birds, animals, grasses, medicines, flowers, insects, worms, fruits, and the four winds, four directions, and four seasons.

grandmother moon
guiding all the cycles
the wise woman says
this is as far as I can go
with this prayer

The traditional Fire Ceremony, which celebrates the beginning of the solar cycle, was the highlight of First Peoples national day. We were each given a few grains of tobacco and instructed to make our silent prayers, then toss the grains into the bonfire so that the smoke from our prayers would rise to the great Creator.

invited to put their prayers
into the fire
all races,
forming a friendship circle
men, women, children

summer solstice--
into the fire
to be carried
up to heaven
all my prayers

The ashes would later be gathered and taken to the St. Jean Baptiste Day bonfire on the Plains of Abraham in Quebec City on June 23rd.

A number of political representatives were present at the ceremony, as well as a strikingly attractive young woman, inuk singer Elisapie Isaac, who was one of this year’s spokespersons for the event.

kicking off her shoes
and running across the grass
she exclaims
I am a woman
of the tundra

Here are a few last thoughts on the solstice event.

Anishnabe elder
feathers and furs
messages from the ancestors
rock music blaring
from Maisonneuve Park

medicine woman
on a blanket
on the grass
leans back into the arms
of a white man

celebrating the solstice
in the First Nations garden--
tortilla chips & dip
and a free glass
of mango juice

Rain in the Garden

2009-06-18T17:16:00.000-07:00

My personal philosophy is simple: when in doubt, follow your feet. So last Friday, despite the rain, my feet led me to the Montreal Botanical Garden to meet writer Channah Magori. Channah is fairly new to the city, having lived much of her life in Israel. She writes poetry and is at work on a novel. She also works with disabled children and is currently enrolled in a programme to become a poetry therapist.

The forecast was for rain Friday morning, which didn't put me off--afterall, I was born in Vanouver--but I thought that perhaps Channah would choose to cancel. I was thrilled when she emailed me back to say that she thought gardens in the rain were beautiful and that she was looking forward to our writing session together.

We decided to meet in the Dream Lake Garden, an authentic Chinese garden inspired by the private gardens popular in the southern Yangzi River region during the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644). The Green Shade Pavilion, perched on top of a small hill, would provide us with a dry place to write no matter how heavy the rain. I arrived early and sat at the pavilion's small stone table with its barrel-shaped seats. Here is the view from the hilltop.

Depite the rain, gardeners were hard at work.

gray morning--
gardeners
in yellow rainslickers

Since I'm reading Milton these days, this tanka came to mind.

when paradise
seems lost--
a gardener
pushing his wheelbarrow
in the rain

*

It doesn't happen often, but today I was in a mood to write both haiku and tanka.

mist in the trees--
the garden
fragrant with rain

*

breeze
through the pavilion
rippling puddles
not enough

to ruffle me

*

cleansing rain--
how often
I've given myself to it

*

the elegant
horizontal branches
of a ginkgo--
another tightrope walker
balancing in the wind

*

Channah arrived and although we had never met in person, with only a few words of greeting we settled down to writing side by side at the table.

writing--
our words compete
with the waterfall

*

The rain began to lessen and eventually stopped. When the sun came out, the garden was spectacular with the leaves a rich and vibrant green.

sun gleaming
on wet leaves
not much warmth
but the light,
oh, the light is beautiful!

*

purple irises
at the bottom
of the hill--
above the turquoise lake
my sun-splashed thoughts

*

Not only were the colours in the garden so much richer after the rain, but my ears were treated to a symphony of birdsong.

sun after rain
in the garden
exploding
among the trees
songs of happiness

*

I'm glad that I came this morning and even more pleased to have met a rainy-day garden friend, who I hope will join me many more times during the summer. Below is a photo of Channah followed by the lovely gift of a haiku that she sent me the next day.

Two sides of a leaf
One red, and the other green
Let the wind decide!

Channah Magori

The Secret Garden

2009-06-12T16:46:00.000-07:00

I've been waiting impatiently over the past few weeks for the rhododendrons in the Lesley Hancock Garden to reach their peak. This garden has been nicknamed The Secret Garden, because it is hidden beneath the trees and if you don't know that it's there, you could walk right past this small patch of splendor under the oaks.

Robert Bilinski, Montreal mathematician/poet, joined me this week. I asked him about his rather unusual combination of disciplines--he is a mathematics professor at College Montmorency and has been writing poetry since the age of twelve. To him, though, the two go naturally together and he finds that the aims of both are the same: to describe the world and to say the most in the least number of words, to look at structures and find the links between them, to tackle complexity and find the key to unlock it, and to uncover the difference between truth and falsehood. I have to admit that I've never looked at mathematics and poetry in quite this light and Robert is certainly a passionate and articulate spokesman for both.

Robert and I met for our early morning writing session among the rhododendrons. Robert decided to write haiku and I focussed on tanka. Historically in Japan, haiku tended to be written by men while tanka with its strong appeal to the emotions was often the preserve of female poets. Here is our poetic exchange interspersed with some photos from this beautiful garden.

under the balsams
my body surprises me
lungs binging on air

Robert Bilinski

breathing in deeply
the moist marsh air--
pure physicality
after all those
too cerebral men

Angela Leuck

late night outing
early trip to the garden
relaxing my jaw

Robert Bilinski

the soft spongy paths
of the marsh garden—
birds with their mating calls
sending messages
among the trees

Angela Leuck

branches puffing out
not quite like a puzzle
appeasing the eye

Robert Bilinski

rhododendrons
deep rust, pink
yellow and white—
fearing intoxication
I don't sit beside him

Angela Leuck

**

branches to be shred
the saw still on the ground
metal mouth ajar

Robert Bilinski

watching the light
shift on the ferns—
one minute he’s happy
the next he’s grumbling
my teenage son

Angela Leuck

**
shredded cadaver
spread out on a flower bed
the blooms will survive

Robert Bilinski

they don’t believe
less is more
these rhododendrons—
too often

I'm stingy with praise

Angela Leuck

**

fixating on moss
eyes starting to glaze
free entertainment!

Robert Bilinski

bright splashes of colour
of the rhododendrons--
damp grassy paths
leading in and out
of paradise

Angela Leuck

in a dark clearing
luminaries under firs
under the skylight

Robert Bilinski

young couples
walking slowly
among the rhododendrons
some flowers are best
enjoyed together

Angela Leuck

**

damn that darn mower
returning on his rounds
R.I.P.ing nature’s scat

Robert Bilinski

oak leaves above me
then clouds—
a tiny snap
brings me back
to the dark forest floor

Angela Leuck

**

drooping circulars
a tree’s leaves invading
modern man’s alley

Robert Bilinski

a canopy
of oak leaves
above my bench—
long since I’ve looked
to a man for shelter

Angela Leuck

**

ferns like little pets
giving comfort, giving hand
to an empty bench

Robert Bilinski

among the rhododendrons
I’m taking up
this secluded bench
where lovers
might sit

Angela Leuck

**

white puff lines on blue
that was his favourite spot
only traces remain

Robert Bilinski

in the garden
at sundown
the orange rhododendrons
keeping me
from my dinner

Angela Leuck

Robert tells me that he enjoyed our garden writing experience and will meet me another time in the garden. Until then, if you're interested in finding out more about Robert's creative work, you can read his article on mathematics and dance online at:

Part 1 : http://www.marthiii.com/Marthi_mag/2007-07-jui/marthi_mag_conceptuel.htm
Part 2 : http://www.marthiii.com/Marthi_mag/2007-08-aout/marthi_mag_conceptuel.htm
Part 3 : http://www.marthiii.com/Marthi_mag/2007-09-sept/marthi_mag_conceptuel.htm

Days of the Irises

2009-06-08T10:59:00.000-07:00

It's definitely the days of the irises. They are everywhere, bringing their big, lustrous beauty to even the most unassuming of yards in my neighbourhood here in Verdun. At the botanical garden, they bring a taste of royal pagentry. On this visit I stayed mainly in the Flowery Brook area where there is an exceptional selection of different iris varieties.

Although the name "iris" comes from the Latin word for "rainbow," for me the flower has a bit of a military symbolism because of the sharp pointed leaves. But maybe I'm thinking of this for other reasons.

from head to toe
in green camouflage
the miliary man
I glimpsed this morning
on the way to the garden

Mongolian Iris

I wonder

is that soldier
bound
for Afghanistan?

white-tipped

like the Himalayas

King's Spear--
wherever I go

that soldier's on my mind

Here is a photo of irises with the flower called King's Spear in the foreground.

I also remarked on the juxtaposition of another plant and irises:

meadow rue

beside purple irises--

with love

there's always the need

for caution

I admired this iris variety:

ghosts of Hamlet
and poor flower-mad

Ophelia--
yellow bearded irises

called Elsinore

From Ophelia to the Madonna:

Moonlight Madonna

bearded iris--

another tribute

to the virgin mother,

the crucified woman

The term "bearded" refers to the line of soft hairs on the middle of an iris's three drooping petals.

the velvety fur
of the iris's
three outer petals--

who isn't taken in

by softness

it's not so much

the irises

that are beautiful

as the morning light

they're bathed in

the earth is finished

says my science-minded friend

in despair--

take my hand, I tell him,

we'll be fireflies at dusk

Of course, the other great symbol that irises evoke are of brushes dipped in deep blue ink.

iris buds

dipped in blue ink--

I'll paint

an unspoken love poem

on his chest as he sleeps

How splendid these days of the irises.

Luscious Lilacs

2009-05-24T11:06:00.001-07:00

I came to the garden today with Claudia Coutu-Radmore, an Ottawa poet and editor of the recently released Arctic Twilight (Blue Butterfly Books). Claudia is a member of Ottawa's Kado haiku group and is the person who initially inspired me to take up tanka. I couldn't think of a better poet to share the splendour of the lilac garden at its peak.

Here's a photo of Claudia, notebook in hand, among the lilacs.

today my words

are lilac tinted

and dipped in scent
Angela

each lilac showing me

what I do not know

about lilacs

Claudia

The lilac garden is located inside the Montreal Botanical Garden right before The Flowery Brook. It contains quite a number of well established bushes. Each bush has its own fragrance and it's difficult to resist the urge to stop and inhale deeply at each one.

from lilac to lilac

being draggged

by my nose
Claudia

with a friend
in the lilac garden
surrounded
by beauty and fragrance
we are wallflowers at the ball
Angela

on the yellow center
of a lilac flower
centering myself
Claudia

in my childhood
lilacs always grew
in other people's yards--
never the giver
nor the receiver
Angela

There are all shades of lilac in the garden, from darkest purple to pure white.

drawn to the lilacs
of the most intense hues
flowers that distil purple
that hoard
white
Claudia

lilacs
under a deep blue sky
for once
it's not just me
taking things to the limit
Angela

as if to make up
for its rough-barked trunk
this lilac bush
exploding in lush
soft purple
Claudia

if I marry again
I'll carry purple lilacs
and not worry
too much
what I wear
Angela

letting go
of my thoughts
to smell the lilacs
I'll forget for the moment
all the things I can't do
Angela

choosing to remain a victim
assaulted
by the scent of lilacs
Claudia

a sprinkling
of lilac flowers on the grass
our shadows
move in and out
of abundance and loss
Angela

so difficult
to leave them
so hard to fight
the purple gravity
of lilacs
Claudia

I certainly enjoyed writing in the garden with Claudia. Hopefully this is just the first of many such poetic rendez-vous at the Montreal Botanical Garden. But the lilac garden at the height of bloom is undoubtedly one of the growing season's highlights. There's nothing as luscious as lilacs!

daring the poets
to make them last forever
these lilacs
Claudia

if there is
an art to love--
lilacs
full of fragrance
against a powder-blue sky
Angela

P.S. Here are two last poems, I couldn't help including.

like these white lilacs
we are so often
at our best
because of our dark
backgrounds
Claudia

I'll sit
among the lilacs
in this patch of sun
not minding at all
if you're late
Angela

Aglow!

2009-05-24T09:50:00.000-07:00

I treked out to the garden last Wednesday morning. It was unseasonably cool, but I put on the one wool sweater I still hadn't packed away and boarded the metro to Pie IX. Despite the gray skies and cold, I wasn't alone in the garden. Photographers were out in droves .They were outfitted with expensive cameras, huge macro lenses and sturdy tripods and were painstakingly setting up their shots. Here's one of my own taken with my modest little digital. The dull, moody light definitely adds drama to the photo.

But then what do I know. I'm a poet not a photographer! (Although having at one time been married to an art photographer, I probably did learn a thing or two.)

*

My destination this morning was the lilac garden, but I found that it wasn't quite at its peak yet, so decided to walk over to the Lesley Hancock Garden instead. There wasn't much in bloom, except for one rhododendron bush, but it was definitely worth getting up for. It was completely covered with pink blossoms and more than lived up to its name: Aglow!

I thought I would take this opportunity to write a little about tanka, the five-line form of poetry that I have been including in my various entries. Tanka is much less known in North America than haiku, although it is the most ancient form of Japanese poetry. Tanka (originally called "waka") has been written in Japan for at least 1300 years, whereas haiku is a relative newscomer at only about 400 years old.

For much of its history, tanka was the poetry of the nobility and the ability to write these short lyric poems was as important as being able to wield a sword. Tanka was frequently used in furthering romantic liaisons between members of the aristocracy. Their poems with carefully chosen images and suggestive language were written on beautiful paper in exquisite calligraphy, the whole message being packaged up with a flower or a sweet smelling sprig of blossoms. Imagine if the success of your love affair depended on writing a winning poem.

among

the rhododendrons

remembering the way

he makes me feel

aglow

Although tanka has been used for centuries as the poetry of love in Japan, and now increasingly among contemporary English-language poets, its subject matter extends to every area of human feeling. In the words of Marianne Bluger, the Ottawa poet who died several years ago of cancer and who was the author of the first full-length Canadian book of tanka, "tanka is a quick check on the state of the heart." I find that writing tanka is a great way to discover what's on my mind.

do I want a young

and handsome man

or is it enough

to be

adored?

Blossom Viewing

2009-05-16T11:14:00.000-07:00

Prepare yourself for some spectacular shots of blossoms, which I took early last Thursday morning. The weather forecast was for rain on the weekend, so I made sure to get to the Montreal botanical garden while the weather was still conducive to blossom viewing. In Japan, blossom viewing in spring is a national pastime and traditionally a woman would wear a special blossom-viewing kimono. In the West, we don't have quite such a reverential attitude toward blossoms and that is a bit of a shame. What did I wear today? A knitted cotton top, beige slacks and my Nike windbreaker. I chose comfort over beauty. But blossoms are all about beauty. Next time I'll try to make an effort to really dress up.

Here are a few photos from the Japanese Garden.

The best place to look at blossoms is of course in the apple and cherry orchard of the arboretum

The following photograph inspired this tanka:

a mass

of apple blossoms

there was never

a bride

as beautiful as this

what a day

to come blossom viewing

with the wind

and this world

weariness

crabapple blossoms

and the first

drops of rain

the stream is full

to overflowing

windy morning

cherry blossoms

whirling and spinning

my thoughts

never still

under apple blossoms

thinking of all

the perfume

in my cupboard

at home

Starting with this blog post, I'm going to make it a habit to introduce a less commonly known flower. This time I've chosen Siberian bugloss. It's a low lying plant that grows in the shade garden. It has the most lovely small blue flowers, which you can see in the photo below:

Siberian bugloss

such an unattractive name

for something

so light and pretty

and unabashedly blue

The other idea I've had is to invite another poet to accompany me on my walk through the garden. So starting next week I will be coming with a friend to write poems and check out what's new in the garden.

I'll just end with a reminder that the Japanese garden will be holding their annual picnic under the crabapple blossoms, which is called O-hanami, on May 17th, 2009, starting at 11:30AM. Let's hope it doesn't rain.

Tulipomania!

2009-05-09T11:40:00.000-07:00

Tulips were in full bloom today at the Montreal Botanical Garden. Here is a photo of the entrance garden with its mass planting of Foseteriana Tulips.

The bed that I photographed two weeks ago with red tulips is now ablaze in yellow and white

I saw many more tulip varieties throughout the garden.

The pink tulips below are particlarly striking next to the brilliant blue of grape hyacinth.

Next I decided to head over to the Lesley Hancock Garden to check out the azaleas and rhododendrons. There were a few bushes in flower, such as the one below, for which I gave a clearly audible "wow," but the garden will probably only reach its full peak of flowering closer to the end of May.

But today belongs to the tulip, one of the most fascinating of all the flowers, with a rich and colourful history, as I discovered when I was researching my book "Tulip Haiku'" (Shoreline, 2004).

At the end of today's visit, I sat in the Peace Garden and wrote a few haiku and tanka. The Peace Garden has lately become my favorite place for writing.

my thoughts painted
dandelion yellow
and tulip red

snatching at a bright
red tulip petal--the child
in pink pastel

moving
from the tulip's red
to the violet's blue--
I still find it hard
to believe in happy endings

photographing his wife
by the red tulips--
she poses
like a young girl,
a witchng girl

it's all cliche
my writing about love--
there's only one word
to describe these tulips:
"red!"

And as I leave the garden

the sound of city traffic
outside the garden gate
a drop of rain

Rhapsody: Annual Exhibition of Ikebana International Montreal Chapter

2009-05-03T13:35:00.000-07:00

On April 25th and 26th, the Montréal Chapter of Ikebana International presented its annual exhibition in the Japanese Pavilion at the Montreal Botanical Garden. The title of this year’s exhibition was “Rhapsody.” I recognized many of the names of the presenters, since I have enjoyed some wonderful collaborations with the Montreal chapter over the years. As usual, the sensei and students came up with some creative and striking arrangements. I particularly liked this one by Nilofur Husain.

I thought that the use of fans was very effective in the following arrangement by Carol Morin.

The next arrangement, by Regine Denesle, played with the theme of "Rhapsody in Blue" by George Gershwin. She even included the musical score, which you may just be able to make out in the bottom left hand side of the photo. This arrangement is an inspired combination of Eastern and Western sensibilities.

A number of the presenters were on hand on Sunday afternoon and I was happy to have a chance to chat with Lois Shore and Madeleine Murphy, two ikebana artists who have given me so much encouragement with my own Japanese-inspired literary/art form of haiku.

I also had the pleasure of meeting for the first time another member of Ikebana International, Lorraine Desjardins. Here she is in a photo beside her own colourful tulip rhapsody.

What was most interesting to me was that Lorraine had included a tanka printed on the card at the right in the photo. Here is a close up of the poem, which is a French translation of a tanka (or as it was then called, "waka") by the ninth century Japanese poet Ono no Komachi.

I've read that it was sometimes a tradition for the old ikebana masters to incorporate a poem (either haiku or tanka) into their flower arangements. I think this is something that can certainly be revived and explored by ikebana artists and poets, with each art form enhancing and deepening the appreciation of the other's work.

Now for a few of the poems that I wrote today during my visit to the garden.

entrance
to the Rosarie--
Sunday morning prayer

This poem was written as I was sitting on a bench in the rose garden or Rosarie. I suddenly remembered my artist friend Serena, who was at one time interested in making beads from rose petals. The beads of the first rosaries were in fact made from rose petals, thus the name "rosary." One afternoon several years ago I accompanied Serena into the garden and rather furtively we scooped up fallen rose petals into bags for her to take back to her studio. We felt a bit like thieves, since we weren't sure whether we were allowed to take the petals or not. Serena has since left Montreal to go back to the US. I wonder if she is still making her rose petal jewellery.

wind in my hair
the tulips too
are dancing

I wrote this haiku in the Peace Garden where I was inspired by the beautiful tulip-patterned Iznik tiles.

The next poem was also written in the Peace Garden

birdsong around me--
from somewhere a child
cries "mama"

magnolia in bloom--
the talk is about
dividends and stocks

This haiku was written in the Japanese garden, where the conversation of the older couple on the bench next to me was all about money matters despite the splendour of the magnolias.

Here are a few tanka inspired by the ikebana exhibition.

bright pink gerbera--
I'm at that age
where a woman
starts becoming
invisible

those green orchids
embraced by palm leaves--
the universal desire
to be sheltered
& protected

the way the stem
of that tulip
rests
in the v of a branch--
how coupledom eludes me

ikebana exhibition--
how long will that spider
on the floor
survive
the flower-viewers' trampling

And I'll end with two last poems as I headed home:

tulips open
on a warm spring day
I shed another layer

between the cobblestones
the softness of moss--
will I ever
find comfort
in a man

What's Blooming?

2009-05-02T17:21:00.000-07:00

Writing a blog about the Montreal Botanical Garden is a project that I’ve had in mind for some time. My idea is to provide a weekly posting on what’s currently in bloom in this world class garden, as well as cover events that take place throughout the year. I will also be including some of my poetry.

I write haiku and tanka, which are Japanese-inspired short poetry forms. Most people are familiar with haiku, but tanka (its five-line cousin) is still fairly unknown. I’ll provide some background on the history and aesthetics of both types of poetry as we go along.

So, camera in hand, on this early Sunday morning, I’m off to the Montreal Botanical Garden, which is just a metro ride away from my home in Verdun. I get off at Pie IX (pronounced “pee neuf”) Metro and walk up the hill past the Olympic Stadium to the front gates of the garden, located at the corner of Pie IX and Sherbrooke Streets. Tulips are up in the small beds on both sides of the gate. Several years ago I wrote a haiku about the tulips in these particular beds.

golden tulips
in the midday sun—
fields of flame

That was later in the season. For now, the tulips here are not yet in bloom. Further inside the garden, closer to the main building, tulips bloom in this year’s colour theme: bright red.

Heading past the fountain, which is of course not yet in operation, I spend a few moments admiring a magnolia.

In the exhibition garden, I found these lovely “Lenten Roses” (Heliebore oriental), which are a new flower for me. Googling them, I discover that they were chosen as the 2005 perennial plant of the year by the Perennial Plant Association and that they are considered one of the most attractive and longest-blooming of the shade perennials. The plants here are in white and purple.

On my walk through the garden, I see plenty of daffodils and patches of scilla. I’ve been admiring this small plant around the city for the past few weeks. I particularly like the way it can take over whole lawns with its electric blue. In the following photo, you can glimpse the scilla beneath the rich yellow of that other early bloomer, forsythia.

By the “Flowery Brook,” my attention is caught by another blue flower with the wonderful name, “Glory-of-the-snow.” After the long winter here in Montreal, anything growing and colourful is a cause for near religious fervour.

I walk through the Native Garden and smile at the still-coiled heads of the ferns.

I came this morning expecting a quiet, meditative walk in the garden, but pulsing latin music follows me into the Japanese Garden and then the Chinese Garden as well. It’s blasting from nearby Maisonneuve Park. I walk over to investigate and find out that today is the MS March of Hope. There are a lot of people registering and plenty of balloons and pre-walk entertainment. Their slogan is “Every Step Matters.”

Heading back into the garden, I notice the new children’s playground that they’ve built beside the Insectarium, which has these fun-looking stepping stones.

if my life
were just a series

of flower-shaped stepping stones

would I worry so much

about the next step?