Our day began with a visit to the Nitobe Memorial Garden, a place that invites you to slow down, observe, and reflect. Before exploring the garden itself, we learned about Dr. Inazo Nitobe, the garden's namesake. As an agriculturalist and a member of the League of Nations, Dr. Nitobe worked to build connections, as a bridge, between Japan and Canada. The garden, which opened in 1960, serves as a living reflection of that bridge, blending traditional Japanese garden design with the biodiversity of the West Coast.
One of the most fascinating aspects of the garden was the way it was designed to be experienced. We moved through it in a counterclockwise journey that mirrored the stages of life. We began in "babyland," surrounded by towering cedar and Douglas fir trees and a large lantern standing quietly among them. From there, we moved through a youthful section featuring a bridge symbolizing a marriage that comes too early, before eventually arriving at a second bridge representing a marriage at an appropriate age and stage of life.
Walking through the garden felt less like moving through a landscape and more like moving through a story.
So... What Makes a Garden a Garden?
At the end of our visit, we gathered to discuss the question: What makes a garden a garden?
Throughout our practicum, we have encountered many different kinds of gardens. Some, like the Nitobe Memorial Garden, are highly curated and carefully maintained. Others, like the guerrilla garden, emerge through circumstance, adaptation, and community relationships.
Despite their differences, several common threads emerged. Every garden seems to be guided by some form of intention or philosophy. Gardens are also deeply relational spaces, shaped by connections between plants, between humans and plants, and between plants and the insects and animals that share the space. We noticed that every garden contains layers of life interacting with one another, creating a dynamic ecosystem rather than a collection of individual species.
Most importantly, every garden tells a story.
Some stories are carefully designed, like the life journey represented at Nitobe. Others emerge gradually through years of growth, change, and relationship. Either way, gardens seem to invite us to pay attention to the stories and narratives unfolding around us.
Back to the Orchard
After our morning of observation and reflection, we returned to the orchard garden and traded contemplation for action.
The afternoon was filled with hands-on work. We spread wood chips along pathways, prepared a new garden bed, and rejuvenated old signs for the guerilla garden. We also gathered morning glory vines to dry and hopefully weave with, giving a new purpose to a plant that has become a familiar character in our garden adventures.
Many of us tackled patches of buttercups throughout the garden. As we carefully removed them, hidden treasures began to emerge. Beneath the dense growth we discovered blueberry bushes, currants, and a pair of snails tucked away in the cool soil. Talk about currant events!
It's amazing how often gardening feels like archaeology. Pull one plant away and suddenly an entirely different layer of life is revealed underneath.
Snails, Slugs, and Inquiry bugs…
As often happens in the garden, our work generated as many questions as answers. What exactly do snails eat? How are snails and slugs related? What role do they play within the garden ecosystem?
These kinds of questions have become one of my favourite parts of our time in the garden, and really highlight the importance of hands-on learning. A task that begins as simple weeding can quickly become an investigation into ecology, biodiversity, and the interconnectedness of living things. The garden has a way of turning everyday observations into opportunities for discovery.
By the end of the day, we had moved between two very different garden spaces: one carefully designed to tell a story through landscape and symbolism, and another actively evolving through the work of plants, people, insects, and weather. Yet both experiences reinforced a similar idea. Gardens are not simply collections of plants, they are living communities shaped by relationships, intentions, and stories.
And the more time we spend in them, the more stories we begin to notice.
By: Katie and Kirstin
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