A joy to behold - The Canadian Heritage Garden

The Canadian Heritage Garden was created as a reminder of the peoples and traditions that have built our country. Located in the pastoral setting of Rideau Hall, it mingles roses, stone and wrought-iron to create a tranquil spot in which one can contemplate the beauty that is possible when nature and human ingenuity come together.

Opened on June 9, 2000, the garden begins with an arced rose bed, containing 94 plants. This bed curves with a granite colonnade engraved to mark the milestones of Canadian history in 25-year intervals between 1608 and 1992. To the west of this grouping are 11 rose rooms. Each celebrates the arrival of ethnic groups commencing with the First Nations. In each room, roses represent the corresponding ancestral groups within it. All paths lead back to a central large fountain of overflowing water that creates a quiet curtain coming to rest in a circular reflecting pool.

The OHS was approached to monitor the rose garden six times throughout the growing season (May, June, July, August, September, October) to ensure care was being given to the garden and to notify the creators if any problem was noticed. A member-at-large and a board member were to be selected. Ludmila Gombar and I agreed to undertake the assignment.

Viewing the garden in such a periodic fashion allows one to appreciate the cycle it goes through. In May, there was the first flush of leaves; in June, the bushes became lush, dark green, heavy with buds; while in July, the flowers were abundantly fragrant. And yet, at the same time, one could view the constant fragility of the garden, of any garden. Weeds began to take hold in the loamy soil. Initial days of heavy rainstorms were followed by a prolonged summer-long drought. Then came a sudden infestation of beautiful iridescent beetles that were ravaging the blossoms of recurrent bloomers. Spurts of growth made canes unruly in the autumn, especially when they became detached from the wrought-iron trellises. They blew in the wind, posing a thorny threat to passers-by.

Any garden is a work in progress and this is true of the Canadian Heritage Garden. Some roses didn't take hold, leaving gaps among the plantings. A few, given more space, took over either because they weren't trimmed properly or are simply vigorous by nature. Markings beneath the colonnade, which were intended to identify the roses, are confusing. Even after six visits, I still haven't figured them out. Names engraved in granite in the rose rooms are at ground level and are hard to read when wet, or if you are not agile enough to bend down. Some of the roses, identified as specific cultivars on different stones, seemed to be similar to ones planted in a different room and under a different name. And there were more roses in a few rooms than there were names written in the stone.

To create a garden that celebrates our history through a much-loved flower is an intriguing and laudable concept. When I first heard of the architectural detailing, I thought it would mostly be a folly. And it could easily be. Just as the engraved words on the granite capture a particular historical period, just as the rooms celebrate the ethnic groups who enrich our country, so to the roses need to be given their full due, their rightful place. This is, after all, first and foremost a garden.

It should not be one that is accessible only to those who are knowledgeable about roses or history. It must be for everyone, including visitors who accidentally wander into it, who are drawn by the beauty of a particular rose and stoop to take in its aroma, who want to know more about it and plant it in their garden. Several times, as I took notes for my reports, people approached me - some posing questions, a few frustrated by their inability to identify a rose that had taken their fancy. It is a feeling I share. In my reports, it became a proverbial bee in my bonnet. And since this is a garden celebrating Canadian heritage, I feel more should be made of those roses which were bred by Canadians for our climate - by Saunders, by Preston, by Skinner, by Bugnet, to name just a few of the early ones.

Yet as I sat there on a soft September afternoon, recurrent blooms scenting the air, the long lawn leading down to the cricket green, the wind woven with bird song, the rose garden seemed a magical place in which to sit. Once this garden has matured and the small details worked out, it will indeed, to paraphrase Keats, be a thing of beauty, a joy to behold.

Please contact the OHS or the author if you wish to republish these articles. © Ottawa Horticultural Society

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