Every spring, I plant flowerpots for a client living on the border of Westmount, Quebec. There is great spiritual excitement working at this site. We garden on the top floor of a twelve-story assisted-living apartment building for seniors that sits at the highest point of Mont Royal, Montreal’s mountain in the middle of a city, modestly landscaped by Fredrick Law Olmstead twenty years after he created New York City’s Central Park.
To the south, we see the Saint Lawrence River and the Champlain Bridge that crosses it; to the west, a horizon boasting the outline of a new hospital complex, beyond which the skyline fades into the river and the rural areas beyond. To the east, we admire the western slope of the mountain dotted with the lush green clouds of densely populating treetops that grace the elegant homes surrounding this residential municipality.
At this height, we feel a soothing silence broken first by the roar of wind blowing across the Saint Lawrence Valley as it bounces off the southern face of the mountain and second by the music of wind chimes that float from a neighboring penthouse on the same floor. Fortunately, the flowers that I plant are protected from the ethereal gusts of wind by clear Lucite panels that shelter both the client and her potted garden.
The spring sun bathes us in warmth as we work under bright skies that glow in a shade of blue rarely seen at street level; the birds in the treetops provide songs-to-plant-by and on dull days, the unobstructed view of dramatic cloud formations fill us with awe as they float before our eyes.
My staff and I feel a little closer to heaven gardening at this height with such a panoramic view. Although we spend hours designing and planting flowerpots, what we do here does not feel like work. This annual project is an opportunity to experience spirituality. Regardless of their age, personality, gender or field of study, none of the college students who help me plant remain unmoved by what they see.