When we lived on Laura Crescent we had a handsome leafy tree in the front yard (I think it was a traditional maple tree, though it may have been called a Red maple). The leaves began as deep rich green with blood red tint. It had afforded progressive years of enjoyment in addition to the usual pile of autumnal leaves which greatly amused our French bulldog Munroe. During a freezing rain storm, the tree split down the middle.  Our neighbour across the street kindly agreed to complete the ruin and then harboured the remnants as firewood.

We subsequently hired Allan Goddard of Almonte Landscape Service to tend the property.  He planted a number of trees both front and back, the most memorable of which were those I regularly saw from the patio where we sometimes dined or which I saw through the patio glass door in the fireplace room while sipping my martini and reading Jane Austen.

Allan Goddard was born and raised in Montreal, Quebec, and spent many of his boyhood summer days at granny’s cottage near Magog in the Eastern Townships, where he picked spring daffodils, listened to the bees in the apple blossoms, and dug carrots from the garden. He spent seven college and university summers working with the City of Westmount’s  Parks and recreation department, where he was selected to be an assistant to the head gardener with the floral clock installation and maintenance. A CEGEP diploma in Pure and Applied Science, a diploma in Park Management from the University of Guelph, and his Degree in Natural Science from Lakehead University in Thunder Bay completed his academic accomplishments. After a handful of differing biological contracts in Ontario, and two years as a landscape manager in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, he settled in Almonte to start Almonte Landscape Services  in 1989, and has operated it since.

Goddard later tended the very small garden in front of my law office at 77 Little Bridge Street.  He planted a leafy tree which by design grew more up than out.  It was to me a miracle of architecture because it performed exactly as intended, never overtaking the entire garden in which were planted a number of other low-lying bushes and flowers. Nor apparently did its roots conflict with the stone basement of the building.

My earliest childhood memories in the Annapolis Valley of Nova Scotia recall magnificent towering pine trees, the abundant needles of which formed a pervasive copper bed upon the ground.

When living as a young boy at 4412 Edmunds St NW in Washington, DC not far from the Potomac River we were surrounded on all sides by trees (including Glover Archbold Park and the Wesley Heights Trail). Our house had what I thought at the time to be a huge tree at the front.  Each year that tree housed the nests of beautiful grey-coloured doves.

My late father, when commanding officer of a Canadian Air Force base in Alberta, arranged to have hundreds of coniferous trees planted around the residential areas which were otherwise bordered by vast sections of flat prairie land.

At law school my first residence was Domus Legis, a fraternity house occupied on the top floor by three rooms and on the main floor by an open bar and mingling area.  From our angled rooftop perspective I could see trees growing adjacent the house. The trees provided comfort when the Atlantic gales blew.

Today – as I relish this lifetime of arboreal memories – it is my distinct pleasure to sit at my writing desk overlooking a pattern of feudal-like riparian farms along the shoreline of the Mississippi River.  Yesterday, Saturday, while tricycling about the parking lot of a local school I saw young boys climbing a tree for entertainment.  I confess it is not an aerial employment I remember having embraced.  I was more likely to have contrived a swing or hammock from a strong tree branch.

Apart from the immediacy of my pastoral view I have always had an artistic appreciation of trees in both spring, summer and winter. The winter sojourns to tropical and subtropical climates equally engender an animated interest in palm trees and giant ferns but never with quite the traditional endearment of their northern cousins (many of which for example characterized the capital of the Group of Seven painters).

A nearby local boulevard is lined with flowering trees. In the park along the river there have been judiciously planted coniferous trees which one day will tower spaciously without interruption.

On our drive home this afternoon from the city (where the urban landscape was predominantly building after building) we revived ourselves instantly upon glimpsing the proliferation of greenery along the Appleton Side Road. Soon the cornstalks will flourish and summer will be at its height of splendour!

 

AI VERSION:

When we lived on Laura Crescent, a handsome, leafy tree graced the front yard — a traditional maple, I believe, though some called it a Red Maple. Its leaves emerged each spring in a deep, rich green tinged with blood-red, affording us years of quiet delight. Come autumn, its fallen leaves gathered in great piles that greatly amused our French bulldog, Munroe. But during a freezing rainstorm, the tree split down the middle. Our neighbour across the street kindly saw the ruin through to its end and harboured the remnants as firewood.

In time, we hired Allan Goddard of Almonte Landscape Service to tend the property. He planted several trees, both in front and behind the house — the most memorable of which I viewed daily from the patio where we sometimes dined, or through the glass doors of the fireplace room as I sipped a martini and read Jane Austen.

Allan Goddard was born and raised in Montreal, Quebec. As a boy, he spent summers at his grandmother’s cottage near Magog in the Eastern Townships, where he picked spring daffodils, listened to bees in the apple blossoms, and dug carrots from the garden. He spent seven summers working with the City of Westmount’s Parks Department, where he was selected as assistant to the head gardener in charge of the floral clock. His academic path included a CEGEP diploma in Pure and Applied Science, a diploma in Park Management from the University of Guelph, and a degree in Natural Science from Lakehead University in Thunder Bay. After a string of biological contracts in Ontario and two years as a landscape manager in Saudi Arabia, he settled in Almonte in 1989 to found Almonte Landscape Services — which he has operated ever since.

Later, Goddard tended the small garden in front of my law office at 77 Little Bridge Street. There, he planted a tree that, by design, grew more upward than outward — a minor miracle of living architecture. It performed its role exactly as intended: never overtaking the garden where low bushes and flowers thrived, nor sending roots to menace the stone foundation of the building.

My earliest childhood memories in Nova Scotia’s Annapolis Valley recall the towering pine trees, whose abundant needles formed a pervasive copper bed on the ground.

Later, as a young boy living at 4412 Edmunds Street NW in Washington, DC — not far from the Potomac — we were surrounded by trees on every side: Glover Archbold Park and the Wesley Heights Trail. At our own front door stood what seemed to me then a massive tree, which each year cradled the nests of beautiful grey doves.

My late father, when commanding officer of a Canadian Air Force base in Alberta, arranged the planting of hundreds of coniferous trees around the otherwise bare residential areas that bordered the vast, flat prairie.

At law school, my first residence was Domus Legis, a fraternity house where the top floor held three rooms and the main floor an open bar and mingling area. From our angled rooftop, I could see trees growing close by — their presence a comfort when the Atlantic gales blew.

Now, as I relish this lifetime of arboreal memory, I find distinct pleasure in sitting at my writing desk, overlooking the patterned, feudal-like riparian farms stretched along the Mississippi River shoreline. Only yesterday, while tricycling about the parking lot of a local school, I saw young boys climbing a tree for sport. I confess, tree-climbing was never my occupation — I was more inclined to contrive a swing or a hammock from a strong branch.

Beyond the immediacy of my pastoral view, I have long held an artistic appreciation for trees in every season — spring, summer, and winter. Even my winter sojourns to tropical and subtropical climes, where palms and giant ferns flourish, have never stirred quite the same endearment as their northern cousins — those same maples, pines, and poplars so often immortalized by the Group of Seven.

Nearby, a boulevard is lined with flowering trees, and along the river park stand judiciously planted conifers which, in time, will rise in unbroken majesty.

And so, as we drove home this afternoon from the city — where the landscape yields little but building upon building — we revived our spirits the instant we glimpsed the lush greenery along Appleton Side Road. Soon the cornstalks will flourish, and summer will stand at its full, splendid height.