Anatomy of a Park
Upon ascending from the Sherbrooke subway station and walking down Rue de Rigaud, I stumbled upon Square Saint Louis – a beautiful, 19th-century park surrounded by Victorian row-homes. One can navigate the park via the adjacent sidewalks or one of the winding trails within. The sharp warmth of the July sun dissipates into a comfortable cool, courtesy of the square’s mature canopy – towering maple and oak trees weave a complex tapestry of shadows throughout.
At the center sits a Victorian fountain, followed closely by an old gazebo surrounded by bistro sets, that houses a cafe during the warmer seasons.
“Square Saint-Louis serves as a place for shade, a place for seating, a place for softness, and a place for slowness. It is unpretentious and sufficient – for rest, play, learning, and chatter.“
The square is simple: no complex playground, no overpriced splash pads, no massive parking lots. It is a large rectangle with grassy fields, large trees, trash bins, lampposts, and benches. It is a place that is both integrated and removed from Montreal’s urban dynamics. A visitor can as easily find it intentionally as they would through serendipity. Other than the occasional hum of vehicles moving slowly on one of the narrow, one-way streets, one forgets that they’re in the middle of the 10th largest city in North America.
I enjoy an espresso on a metal bistro chair and look towards Avenue Laval. A squirrel, frozen in time, suddenly rushes up one of the swaying elm trees, where he overlooks an elderly woman sporting her sunglasses and a Marlboro 100. Another woman approaches her with a smile and a brief exchange before moving on. Further down, a mother walks towards the pedestrianized Rue Prince Arthur, pushing her fussy child in a stroller. As the stroller goes out of frame, a young couple with what looks to be a young Maltese comes along.
The Project for Public Spaces called it “the closest thing to a European neighborhood square you’ll find this side of the Atlantic.” Square Saint-Louis serves as a place for shade, a place for seating, a place for softness, and a place for slowness. It is unpretentious and sufficient – for rest, play, learning, and chatter.
As I leave, I look back and wonder how such a simple square could have stolen my heart.
Anar is a car-enthusiast turned walkability advocate. He seeks a holistic understanding of the built environment. He believes that human-centric urban design will go a long way in combatting climate change, encouraging sustainable practices, and improving health outcomes – both mental and physical.
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