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<\/a><\/p>\nMy garden muse first lured me to an inner-city community garden built on former church land and taken over by the city of Montreal sometime in the 1970’s.\u00a0 Twenty-odd years later (sometime in the late 90’s) I hooked up with this small determined community and learned just profound the smallest bit of dirt can be – and how accommodating.<\/p>\n
This is a photo of a photo of me taken in 1997 of the community garden plot in Montreal.<\/p>\n
\n The following is part of a series of character studies in garden settings<\/p>\n June 24th 1997 St. Jean Baptiste Day \u00a0 Alphonse & Me at the Garden<\/span> I went to the garden early because, although St. Jean Baptiste Day is a provincial holiday,\u00a0 Anglos in Quebec are always a bit wary on this day.\u00a0 During and immediately after the Quiet Revolution\u00a0 Saint-Jean-Baptiste Day became highly politicized. Religious symbolism associated with the celebration was rejected by younger generations and this day became a rallying point for separation from Canada.\u00a0 Anglos generally keep a fairly low profile on this day and the more annoyed amongst us loudly celebrate Victoria day for obvious reasons. But I had no beef either way. The majority of Montrealers get along well no matter which is their first language.\u00a0\u00a0 I didn\u2019t have the day off as I was working as a copywriter for a company with a large American clientele so I would be spending the day like any other, at the office.\u00a0 This was kept under wraps because St Jean Baptiste is also a mandatory holiday in Quebec, much like the 4th of July here. Unofficially, we would be getting an American holiday in exchange for this one but we knew better than to broadcast this.<\/p>\n I left my apartment early that morning so I could spend time in the community garden before going into work.\u00a0\u00a0 I looked forward to peeking in at other gardens then settling at the communal picnic table to write in my journal before tackling the day. But when I arrived, the garden gate was open.\u00a0 I was surprised – it was early for anyone to be there.<\/p>\n I recognized him immediately although I didn’t know his name. He had an interesting face; matte black hair and deep set ice-blue eyes.\u00a0 My mother would have called him \u201cone of nature\u2019s bachelors.\u201d I first encountered him working soil in a plot that had been abandoned mid-season.\u00a0 I had pointed at the empty garden and shrugged my shoulder as if to ask what had gone wrong, but Alphonse (as I later discovered was his name) only smiled and kept on raking.\u00a0 Next day he motioned me to his own plot crowded with tall tomato plants attached to hand fashioned bamboo poles, artfully staked green peppers and dense well-manicured herbs.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n
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