Last weekend we took a stroll through a seaside community and we stumbled across this little gem in an “out-of-the-way if you blinked you missed it” location. I’ve always been enamored with community gardens and the gardens make my head turn every time I drive by one. Walking past this one during our walk-about gave me the chance to walk through the community paths, allowing me to take my time inhaling the fragrances and enjoying the handy-work of the community. The gardens are a living testament of what humans can create using a blank canvas to produce beautiful brushstrokes with our blood, sweat and tears. When I was a young girl my mother told me a story of my Irish grandfather growing vegetables in a community garden in the inner city of Montreal. She told me that he lived to go to that garden. My grandfather died when I was a young girl, but his presence made an impact in my life. He was a tough,no-nonsense kind of guy who said what was on his mind. I remember his tough presence but that didn’t stop me from looking deep into his eyes to capture a soul who wanted more. Imagining him tending to his crops in his community garden gave me a sense of peace for a man who sailed on a ship from a far-away-land where he was left with nothing to a land that promised him so much more. What he found in this new land was hours of hard labour that did not provide enough for the many mouths he had to feed. Walking through the community garden last weekend brought me serenity and a sense of calm. I hope my tough Irish grandfather found that same sense of serenity in his community garden in a land that promised him so much more.