The early morning sun greeted me with a warm embrace as I arrived at the University of Alberta Botanic Garden. Located just a short drive from Edmonton, this garden had long been on my list of must-visit places, and finally, the day had come. I parked my car and stepped out, feeling a mixture of excitement and curiosity. The garden, spanning over 240 acres, promised not just beauty but also a rich tapestry of experiences that would connect me with nature in ways I hadn’t anticipated.
Walking through the entrance, I was immediately struck by the diversity of the landscape. From the meticulously maintained flowerbeds to the natural woodland areas, the garden felt like a microcosm of Alberta’s varied ecosystems. As I ventured further in, I noticed that each area had its own distinct character, yet all seemed to harmonize perfectly with one another.
My first stop was the Aga Khan Garden, a recent addition to the botanic garden and a true gem in its own right. Inspired by the Islamic gardens of India and Spain, this garden was a blend of symmetry, geometry, and nature’s organic forms. Walking through its pathways, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. The gentle sound of water flowing through the garden’s many pools and fountains added to the serenity.
The sunken garden, with its lush greenery and reflective pools, was particularly captivating. I found myself slowing down, taking in every detail—the intricate tile work, the carefully chosen plants, and the way the garden seemed to invite quiet contemplation. It was a reminder that gardens are not just about plants; they’re about creating spaces that nurture the soul.
As I continued to explore, I couldn’t help but appreciate the thoughtfulness that had gone into the design. The Aga Khan Garden was a place where history, culture, and nature converged, offering a unique experience that felt both grounding and uplifting.
Leaving the Aga Khan Garden, I made my way to the Kurimoto Japanese Garden, another highlight of the University of Alberta Botanic Garden. The transition from the Islamic-inspired design to the Japanese aesthetic was seamless, yet the change in atmosphere was palpable. The Japanese garden had a different kind of tranquillity—a more intimate and meditative quality.
As I entered the garden, I was greeted by a striking torii gate, symbolizing the entrance to a sacred space. The garden unfolded before me like a carefully composed painting, with each element thoughtfully placed to evoke a sense of balance and harmony. The sound of a bamboo water feature gently clacking added a rhythmic element to the stillness.
The path led me through a series of serene spaces—a koi pond surrounded by Japanese maples, a Zen rock garden that invited reflection, and a teahouse that looked as though it had been plucked straight from Kyoto. Each turn of the path revealed a new perspective, encouraging me to slow down and be present in the moment.
Sitting on a bench overlooking the pond, I found myself lost in thought. The Japanese garden, with its understated beauty and attention to detail, had a way of calming the mind and centring the spirit. It was a place where I felt connected to something larger than myself—a reminder of the profound relationship between humans and nature.
After spending time in the Japanese garden, I made my way to the Indigenous Garden, a space dedicated to honouring the traditions and knowledge of Alberta’s First Nations. This garden was different from the others in that it wasn’t about manicured landscapes or ornamental plants; it was about storytelling and connection to the land.
The Indigenous Garden was a living classroom, showcasing plants that have been used by Indigenous peoples for centuries for food, medicine, and ceremony. Walking through this garden, I felt a deep respect for the knowledge and wisdom that had been passed down through generations. The interpretive signs provided insights into how each plant was used, and I found myself learning about plants I had seen many times but never truly understood.
One plant that stood out to me was the sweetgrass, a sacred plant used in smudging ceremonies to purify and protect. Its sweet, earthy scent filled the air, creating a sense of grounding. I also encountered wild sage, which is used for its cleansing properties, and buffalo berry, a traditional food source.
As I walked through the Indigenous Garden, I was struck by the way it honoured the connection between people and the land. It was a space that invited reflection on our own relationships with the natural world and the importance of preserving the knowledge of those who have lived in harmony with the earth for millennia.
Continuing my journey, I found myself in the Alpine Garden, a tribute to the rugged beauty of Alberta’s mountain landscapes. This garden was a stark contrast to the others, with its rocky terrain and hardy plants that thrived in high-altitude conditions. It was like stepping into a different world, one where survival was a constant challenge, yet life found a way to flourish.
The plants here were small but resilient, clinging to the rocks and thriving in the harsh conditions. I was fascinated by the variety of species that had adapted to such an unforgiving environment—tiny alpine forget-me-nots, cushion plants that formed low, dense mats, and delicate mountain avens with their cheerful yellow flowers.
As I climbed to the top of a rocky outcrop, I was rewarded with a stunning view of the garden below and the surrounding landscape. The Alpine Garden offered a different kind of beauty—one that was rugged, raw, and awe-inspiring. It was a reminder of the incredible diversity of life on our planet and the resilience of nature in even the most challenging conditions.
As the day wore on, I made my way to the Sensory Garden, a space designed to engage all the senses. This garden was a feast for the eyes, but it also invited visitors to experience nature through touch, smell, and sound. The garden was filled with plants chosen for their unique textures, scents, and colours, creating a rich sensory experience.
I ran my fingers over the soft, velvety leaves of lamb’s ear, inhaled the sweet fragrance of lavender, and listened to the rustling of ornamental grasses in the breeze. The Sensory Garden was a place of discovery, where each step brought a new sensation.
One of the highlights was the herb garden, where I encountered a variety of aromatic plants, from rosemary and thyme to mint and lemon balm. I crushed a few leaves between my fingers, releasing their scents into the air. It was a simple but powerful reminder of the ways in which plants can engage our senses and enhance our well-being.
The Sensory Garden also featured a water feature that provided a soothing backdrop of sound, as well as a collection of colourful flowers that attracted bees and butterflies. It was a lively, dynamic space that celebrated the full range of sensory experiences that nature has to offer.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, I found a quiet spot to sit and reflect on my day at the University of Alberta Botanic Garden. Each garden had offered something unique—a different perspective on nature, a new way of seeing the world. From the cultural richness of the Aga Khan Garden to the meditative calm of the Japanese garden, from the wisdom of the Indigenous Garden to the rugged beauty of the Alpine Garden, I had journeyed through a diverse tapestry of landscapes and experiences.
The garden had not just been a place of beauty, but a place of learning and connection. It had reminded me of the importance of preserving our natural world, of honouring the knowledge of those who came before us, and of finding moments of peace and reflection in our busy lives.
As I left the garden and headed back to my car, I felt a deep sense of gratitude. The University of Alberta Botanic Garden had been more than just a collection of plants; it had been a living, breathing classroom—one that had touched my heart and nourished my soul. I knew that I would carry the memories of this day with me, long after I had left its gates behind.