26 October 2025 – A double pun, both parts inspired by what I see, this drizzle-rich day, at the VanDusen Botanical Garden.

One part, the Michael Dennis cedar sculptures visible from the forecourt, which I always enjoy…

but whose title I always forget. I have to read it anew each visit: Confidence, says the label, Western red cedar, 2012.

Truth to tell, I don’t quite understand this title.

Dennis’ cedar sculpture for Guelph Park was called Reclining Figure, a name that made obvious sense — though also a name that disappeared from popular memory when the piece was recast in bronze, nicknamed The Dude, and in turn caused the park itself to become known as Dude Chilling Park. (But that is another story, and one I’ve already told you.)

To me, this Van Dusen duo look more contemplative than confident. Pffft, who cares? Confidence is an admirable characteristic, so let’s run with it. Confidence in my outerwear to be as waterproof as it claims, for example… confidence in nature’s transitions each season… confidence in the bones and installations of this Garden to be of interest, whatever the season, whatever the weather.

Confidence immediately justified. This is what greets me, as I start northward along the west side of Livingstone Lake.

Contrasts in the slopes to my left, fall textures and colours at play against the deep green of the coniferous background.

Sculptural details, in seed pods I can’t identify…

and in a curious fall fruit that I can, namely the Common Medlar (Mespilus germanica).

Then, just before I reach the footbridge that divides Livingstone Lake from Heron Lake, I see this enormous leaf on the ground before me.

Which I can also identify, and which sets me looking for more.

This is a Gunnera leaf — Gunnera manicata, aka Giant Chilean Rhubarb, and worthy of the adjective. One leaf can be a couple of metres wide, clumps run 3-plus metres high and 3-4 metres across. There are great clusters of this plant around the inter-zone of these two lakes.

The plant towers over visitors all summer long.

In fall, it is cut back…

and its leaves inverted, to protect plant crowns from winter temperatures.

I’m properly awed by Gunnera in summer, I giggle at it in winter.

Giant pixie caps!

I’m across the foot bridge now, looking north into Heron Lake, taking in the whole sweep of autumn complexity, from desiccated russet stalks at my feet to flaming trees in the distance. So rich.

Also, in places, so denuded.

I follow the sweep of this dug-over flower bed, past that uprooted tree, and come to a signpost that promises me the most extraordinary amount of choice: both seasonal and geographic.

Here’s where the other part of my punning post title kicks in. I am offered a stroll, and I take it. Specifically, at this point, an autumn stroll in Eastern North America.

Yes. It is very all-of-that.

A side trail loops me past the Cypress Pond, and brings me out once again to the south-east curve of Livingstone Lake.

Where I rejoin the Confidence couple.

I too have confidence — confidence they watch over their lake, just as The Dude watches over his park.

I take my leave.