17 May – It’s the walk up-slope Marpole Avenue that brings the old movie title to mind.
Is that not the living, leafy definition of “discreet charm”? Quiet, understated, harmonious and soothing.
In other words, nothing at all like Le charme discret de la bourgeoisie! Luis Buñuel’s 1972 comedy was a satire that skewered the more hectic, and less appealing, characteristics of the upper middle class.
Doesn’t matter. The title still rings in my head as I cross The Crescent and enter Shaughnessy Park.
For one thing, this small park (1.45 Ha) was very much originally for, and is still surrounded by, the bourgeoisie. It is the circular heart within a circular street (confusingly called a Crescent) that crowns the height of land in Shaughnessy and was designed in 1909 — homes plus park — to become the city’s new upper-class neighbourhood, on the assumption that the original West End enclave was losing its exclusive character.
I’m climbing my way to that circle-within-a-circle, shown upper-right in this 2015 City of Vancouver Heritage Action Plan map.
The park is not only surrounded by the bourgeoisie, from the moment I set foot on its gravel pathway, it glimmers with its own discreet charm.
Nothing flashy. Trees, grass, this path, a few benches, and…
one endearingly simple swing, whose wooden seat is wide enough, and sturdy enough, to snuggle two at a time.
Who needs flash, when you’ve got these trees? I am lost in ignorant respect for the size, quantity and variety on offer, everything from towering west-coast conifers to shrubs and small trees riotously in blossom.
Some, like this rhododendron, are still in full bloom…
while others are past their peak, now transformed into discreetly charming ground litter.
I only learn later, thank you VHF (Vancouver Heritage Foundation), that this is more than an impressive bunch of trees. It comprises a small but carefully selected arboretum — 47 species, many rare or unusual, some found nowhere else in the city. (Japanese snowball, says the list, flowering ash, English hawthorne, copper beech, sourwood, large leaf linden…)
Not surprisingly, the trees are well maintained. There is some selective tree removal…
where even the stump is a thing of discreet charm, shade upon shade, ripple by ripple.
The homes ringing The Crescent are as true to their era as is the park, one typical example glimpsed here through mossy park-tree branches.
Tudor Revival, says the VHF: a Vancouver phenomenon 1910-1940, a period of “romanticism and nostalgia” when wealthy local WASPs wanted not only to pretend they were Very-Very-British, but also wrap themselves in pseudo late-medieval architecture. There are relatively few homes around The Crescent, and most of them are now registered heritage sites.
I stand by the swing, and look across The Crescent at the two horse chestnut trees immediately opposite. Both are splendid, both a-blaze with their spring-time “candles,” but while the towering white tree on the right is a common sight in various parts of Canada, including here, the diminutive red variety next to it is not. Both were carefully placed, as was the rest of the public and private landscaping, all of it laid out in that encompassing 1909 design.
Little traffic up here, as befits a discreetly charming enclave.
I politely wait for crow and cyclist to pass on by — I, too, can be charming — and cross the street. Time to follow The Crescent to one of its spokes, and down-slope myself back to Granville Street.
Now out of the park, now up against homeowners’ boundary walls, I discover there is nothing discreet or charming about their security arrangements. An ornate old side-gate may make do with a padlock…
but every front wall is adorned with large, blunt signs.
Not content with shouting WARNING at you, the security firms usually also boast that their response time is less than ten minutes.
Larceny is not on my mind. I am unperturbed.
WALKING WOMAN 