Since I started this blog I have had the privilege of walking through some of the best bonsai gardens in the world. But a few of them sit in a different category altogether – Kimura, Kobayashi, Jonas, Bjorn. This visit belongs on that shelf. It is one of those I was excited about for months, one I kept waiting for.

And here is a confession – please don’t tell my wife, because I will deny it: the real reason we came to this part of the world on our family vacation was David Easterbrook.

Who is David Easterbrook

For anyone new to the name: David has been practicing bonsai for more than 55 years. He served for nearly three decades as curator of the bonsai and Penjing collection at the Montréal Botanical Garden – one of the most respected public collections in North America – until he retired in 2011. He is the founder and former president of the Montréal Bonsai and Penjing Society, which grew into one of the largest bonsai organizations on the continent. He learned on his own for many years, then studied in the United States, and eventually went to Japan for a formal apprenticeship with Isao Shinkai, near Nagoya.

His specialty is the collected North American larch – which, as you will see, explains a lot about what is standing on his benches today.

Today his personal collection holds more than 700 trees. His Facebook page alone is approaching a million followers. There is not a single bonsai enthusiast who is not following David.

How do you even reach him?

That was the problem.

Multiple messages on social media went unanswered – his inbox holds an impossible number of unread messages. My teachers didn’t have access. Other key people in the network didn’t know how to reach him either. His garden is private and the location is confidential, and once you understand the value of what is growing there, you understand exactly why.

And then, once again, Bjorn came through. He didn’t have a direct contact himself, but he knew someone who knew someone — and that is how the door opened.

When we finally met, David mentioned that he had read this blog before replying. He wanted to check who I was before opening his private collection to a stranger. I can’t tell you what a compliment that was. He reads this very blog.

Two of us

I brought Yotam, my son, with me. He watches David’s videos with me at home, and I knew he would understand what he was seeing. The girls agreed to skip this one – we wanted to keep it intimate, and that is exactly how it turned out.

Driving over, Yotam and I talked about how little we knew about what was coming. Would it be a short visit or a long one? Would he be patient with us? How does a man like that receive two Israeli strangers who asked to see his trees?

It was the best possible outcome.

Three hours

David greeted us at the entrance to his garden – gentle, polite, warm. And then he spent almost three hours walking us through the collection. Bench after bench. He stopped at almost each tree and told us the story of each one: where he found it, what he was thinking when he designed it, what he is still waiting for it to do.

It felt like listening to a man talk about his children. That attached. That proud.

The collection

More than 700 trees, and the species list tells you where you are standing. Many, many larches. Many white pines. Many junipers. Everything on those benches has to survive a winter that can drop to minus 35 degrees – and everything on those benches does. Maples and tridents too, of course.

Some of the trees are planted on rock, and every one of them carries its own story – where he found the stone, how far he had to carry it, how many kilometres it took to get it home. A long, rich bonsai life, and every tree holding a piece of it.

The pots are phenomenal, and you can already guess where most of them came from – Tokoname, of course. David has been to Japan 13 times, and each trip he brought back pots and special stones. I stood there recognizing kilns I had just visited myself in June, which was a strange and wonderful feeling.

What he said to Yotam

At some point David turned and spoke directly to Yotam — as the next generation. He talked about the work. About determination.

He Shared his daily routine – He starts at 8 in the morning. Watering alone takes about two hours – and he does it by hand, on purpose. He is against automated irrigation, because every tree has its own needs and a timer cannot tell the difference between a larch that is thirsty and a pine that isn’t. So he walks the benches with a hose, tree by tree, every single morning.

And then he keeps working. On the trees, all day, until dinner.

Even in winter, when everything is dormant and much of the collection is stored indoors, he told me there is still plenty to do. There is no off-season in that garden.

And then he told Yotam the thing I have not stopped thinking about since:

“You have to work on your trees every single day, Every single day….”

The drive home

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After the three hours, David offered to join us for lunch at a restaurant nearby. We were so grateful for that – another couple of hours with someone that inspiring, no benches between us, just talking.

What a person. What a day!

We drove back doing the math.

Eight in the morning. Two hours on a hose, by hand, because a timer cannot tell the difference between a thirsty larch and a pine that is perfectly fine, thank you. Then work until dinner. Winter included, when the trees are dormant and, frankly, not even watching.

I have a job. I have a calendar that thinks in time zones. Some weeks my trees get eleven minutes on a Saturday and are expected to feel lucky.

So naturally I spent the rest of the drive planning. More trees. Better benches. Earlier mornings. A frank conversation with myself about the word “hobby” and whether it still applies.

Then I remembered I would have to explain the new benches to my wife. Who is still under the impression that we came to Canada for a family vacation.

I am not going to have 700 trees. I am not going to start at 8 every morning – let’s be honest with each other. But I came out of that garden understanding something I had only half understood before: this is not a thing you do. It is a thing you commit to, daily, for decades, and the trees know exactly how serious you are.

Yotam walked out quieter than he walked in. Hopefully that’s a good sign 🙂

The journey continues – and now it starts earlier in the morning.