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2025-2026 OALA
Governing Council
President Aaron Hirota
Vice President Justin Whalen
Secretary Matthew Campbell
Treasurer Paul Marsala
Past President Steve Barnhart
Councillors
Matt Perotto
Cameron Smith
Kate Preston
Intern Councillors
Steven Shuttle Khadija Kushalgadhwala
Lay Councillor Karen Liu
Appointed Educator University of Guelph Afshin Ashari
Appointed Educator University of Toronto Elise Shelley
University of Guelph
Student Representative Amber Mays
University of Toronto
Student Representative Benjamin Dunn
OALA Staff
Executive Director Aina Budrevics
Registrar Ingrid Little
Coordinator Olivia Godas
Membership Services Administrator
Angie Anselmo
About
Ground: Landscape Architect Quarterly is published by Ontario Association of Landscape Architects and provides an open forum for the exchange of ideas and information related to the profession of landscape architecture. Letters to the editor, article proposals, and feedback are encouraged. For submission guidelines, contact Ground at magazine@oala.ca. Ground reserves the right to edit all submissions. The views expressed in the magazine are those of the writers and not necessarily the views of OALA and its Governing Council.
Upcoming Issues of Ground Ground 71 (Fall) Fear
Ground 72 (Winter) (Sub)Urban
Deadline for editorial proposals September 29, 2025
Now seeking submissions at magazine@oala.ca
Deadline for advertising space reservations: October 8, 2025
About OALA
The Ontario Association of Landscape Architects works to promote and advance the profession of landscape architecture and maintain standards of professional practice consistent with the public interest. OALA promotes public understanding of the profession and the advancement of the practice of landscape architecture. In support of the improvement and/or conservation of the natural, cultural, social and built environments, OALA undertakes activities including promotion to governments, professionals and developers of the standards and benefits of landscape architecture.
Needs You
Ground relies on OALA members, people from related professions, and those simply passionate about landscapes.
If you would like to contribute in any form, whether it’s writing, photography, or participating as a member of our Editorial Board, don’t hesitate to reach out to us at magazine@oala.ca
Ground Magazine represents the work of many passionate volunteers. If that sounds like you, come join the team!
You do not need to be an OALA member or landscape architect to contribute to either the Editorial Board or the magazine, and anyone who expresses interest will be seriously considered.
03/ Up Front Information on the ground Chirp:
10/ Chimney towers and the return of the swifts
TEXT BY FEROZ FARUQI AND BHAVANA BONDE, OALA
14/ Round Table
The rebirth of the urban wild
MODERATED BY GLYN BOWERMAN AND SHAHRZAD NEZAFATI, OALA
22/ Reviving grasslands through prescribed burns at Chippawa Battlefield
TEXT BY VICTORIA KALENIUK
26/ Memorial Arena Park ‘59
TEXT BY TRACY COOK
32/ Notes A miscellany of news and events
42/ Artifact A giant birdhouse in Hamilton
BOWERMAN
TEXT BY GLYN
President’s Message
Warmer temperatures bring signs of new life. The sights and sounds of birds reinvigorate our surroundings. Plants rise from the ground where snow piles once stood. Rainfall bring what I feel is one of the nicest smells on earth. It’s a time of year when we begin to build, plan, and we see progress. It’s my favourite time of year.
In this spirit, on the heels of the OALA’s annual meeting of members, I welcome our new OALA Council for 2025. I was excited to see so many candidates appear on this year’s ballot. It shows how strong and passionate our membership is, and that they want to volunteer and work together to advance our professional association. The OALA Council held its first meeting in Ottawa at the beginning of June and spent some time blue-sky thinking and launching new standing committee work. It’s a very exciting time for the Association and I am looking forward to the work ahead!
In the same light, our provincial and federal governments held elections earlier this year and have been refreshed with new mandates. On the heels of these elections, the OALA hosted many MPP’s to a breakfast at Queen’s Park on May 14th. We had a fantastic turnout from our membership who engaged with MPPs from all parties. We continue to engage with Ministers and MPPs who are sharing their support towards the goal of introducing a Landscape Architects Practice Act. We have a lot of work left to do and will continue to follow up with the many MPPs who attended our Queen’s Park Day.
June 5-7 we hosted the CSLA-OALA Congress in Ottawa at the Rogers Centre. We welcomed keynote speakers Bianca Wylie and Marc Hallé. As CSLA’s Executive Director Michelle Legault summarized, “The Congress was a forceful reminder of the relevance and importance of landscape architecture, and of the challenges that lay ahead of the profession. The sessions and keynote speakers reminded us to include beauty and humour in our work, to stop and think about our interactions as humans, to choose to make changes NOW which will impact generations.”
AARON HIROTA OALA PRESIDENT PRESIDENT@OALA.CA
Editorial Board Message
For this half of our summer double issue, the Editorial Board has selected Chirp as a theme. When we considered this theme we were inspired by that time in the spring when our landscapes come alive, when the sounds of the birds and animals fill our cities, parks, and natural environments. We thought about the energy and vibrancy it brings and the role that sound plays in connecting us to our natural world.
In our round table discussion, we explore the role of our landscapes in promoting restoration, regeneration, and rebirth of both our natural and cultural habitats in our urbanized areas. We expand the discussion beyond a discussion of animal habitats to include cities as human habitats. We ask our guests to contemplate if we can in fact grow cities and natural environments in ways that do not require sacrificing the quality of either.
This issue also contains two articles that speak directly to the creation of habitats for endangered bird species in Ontario. We highlight two projects that demonstrate efforts to target species-specific habitat creation for the barn swallows and chimney swifts. These interesting projects demonstrate the role we can have in supporting our species at risk by collaborating with knowledge experts to creatively devise new solutions or improve upon previous iterations.
May this half of our summer issue inspire you to consider the role you can play in your daily practice to care for the creatures, critters, and crawlers that contribute to our auditory experience of being in nature. As always, we encourage you to get involved in the magazine by submitting pitches, participating in round tables as panelists or moderators, and sharing with your colleagues the things you’re passionate about when it comes to our vast and varied profession.
MARK HILLMER CHAIR, EDITORIAL BOARD MAGAZINE@OALA.CA
Up Front: Information on the Ground
When it comes to invasive species management, Niagara Parks has found an innovative, eco-friendly solution: goats. These hardworking grazers are transforming how we tackle phragmites, one of the most aggressive invasive plants threatening ecosystems across Ontario. By replacing herbicides with natural grazing, this initiative is setting a new standard for sustainable land management.
The Problem with Phragmites Phragmites australis, also known as the European common reed, is notorious for its rapid growth and dense stands that outcompete native plants, disrupt wildlife habitats, and alter ecosystems. At Gonder’s Flats, the invasive phragmites had taken over, crowding out native
GOATS! tackling invasive species
01-02/ Goats eating invasive phragmites in Gonder's Flats wetlands.
vegetation like the swamp rose mallow, a protected species crucial to local biodiversity. Traditional herbicide treatments, while effective, posed risks to sensitive native plants and the broader environment. Seeking a better approach, the team at Niagara Parks turned to an age-old farming solution.
Why Goats?
Goats are natural grazers, known for their ability to consume a wide variety of invasive plants, including phragmites, buckthorn, and even poison ivy. They offer a sustainable alternative to herbicides, targeting invasive species while preserving native plants. Additionally, their natural three-step system—grazing, aerating the soil with their hooves, and
fertilizing as they graze—provides multiple ecological benefits.
Unlike machinery or chemicals, goats can navigate difficult terrain and selectively graze in areas where herbicides might cause harm. This precision was especially important at Gonder’s Flats, where the swamp rose mallow was at risk.
A Two-Phase Approach
The 2024 goat grazing project at Gonder’s Flats was implemented in two phases. In late June, the goats grazed on 0.45 acres of dense phragmites. By consuming the plants’ biomass, they reduced its energy reserves, preventing regrowth during the summer. Importantly, this first phase halted the development
03-04/ Prescribed burns before and after. This is also being used by Niagara Parks to restore parkland.
IMAGES/ Courtesy of Niagara Parks
of seed heads, effectively stopping the spread of phragmites. And in early October, the goats returned to graze the regrowth. By this time, the phragmites had become thinner and shorter, making it easier for the goats to consume. The team expanded the grazing area by just under half an acre, bringing the total to 0.75 acres.
Amazingly, the swamp rose mallow began to flourish. During the first phase, the goats cleared vegetation around these plants, allowing more sunlight to reach them. By the second phase, the rose mallow had grown significantly, attracting pollinators and contributing to the area’s biodiversity. Remarkably, the goats avoided eating the mallow altogether, showcasing their natural precision and making them a perfect fit for the project.
A Cost-Effective Solution
The financial and environmental benefits of the goat grazing project have been remarkable. The entire project cost just $6,000—significantly less than the labour-intensive alternative of manually removing phragmites. Additionally, the project generated widespread public and media interest, with 1.8 million media impressions highlighting the initiative’s innovative approach and environmental impact.
The positive reception from the community was another unexpected benefit. People love goats, and they love the idea of reducing herbicides and finding natural solutions. The feedback has been overwhelmingly supportive, and the media coverage has helped raise awareness about the importance of sustainable land management.
Looking Ahead
The success of the 2024 season has set the stage for future phases of the project. Plans are already underway to bring the goats back in spring 2025, targeting additional areas of invasive growth. The seasonal timing of the grazing sessions has proven to be crucial, aligning with the growth cycles of phragmites and maximizing the effectiveness of the goats’ grazing efforts.
The Gonder’s Flats goat grazing project is more than just an environmental initiative, it’s a testament to the power of innovation and collaboration in addressing ecological challenges. By combining traditional methods with modern ecological goals, this project is paving the way for a greener, more sustainable future.
As the goats continue their work, Gonder’s Flats is transforming into a thriving habitat where native species like the swamp rose mallow can flourish once again.
Courtesy
06/ Gonder's Flats before the goats did their
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Niagara Parks
07/ A very satisfied goat.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Niagara Parks
TEXT/ VICTORIA KALENIUK IS AN ENVIRONMENTAL PLANNER WITH NIAGARA PARKS, WHERE SHE FOCUSES ON SUSTAINABLE LAND MANAGEMENT. AS A CERTIFIED BURN BOSS AND LICENSED DRONE PILOT, SHE BRINGS A CREATIVE, HANDS-ON APPROACH TO PROTECTING AND RESTORING NATURAL ECOSYSTEMS. BY BLENDING INNOVATIVE TECHNOLOGY WITH PRACTICAL FIELDWORK, VICTORIA HELPS BUILD RESILIENT LANDSCAPES AND STRONGER CONNECTIONS BETWEEN PEOPLE AND THE ENVIRONMENT.
05/ A herd of goats feast at Gonder's Flats wetlands.
IMAGE/
of Niagara Parks
work.
Like many other students of landscape architecture, I entered this field because I wanted to ‘save the world.’ I have a particular fondness for shoreline and vulnerable coastal communities: I grew up on the shore and observe its changes each time I return to my hometown. These changes can be good (new grasses that have spread onto the beach from nearby sand dunes, signs posted about a wetland restoration project), or frightening (a seawall with growing cracks after every winter, stormwater pipes dumping larger and larger volumes of grey water directly into the harbour).
Over the Summer of 2024, I participated in a Master’s Student research residency with two collaborators at the Canadian Centre for Architecture. We came from Architecture, Landscape, and Environmental Design, and we held a shared interest in applying broader practices of inventory and analysis using queer, feminist, and Indigenous methodologies to inform our approaches alongside hydrological, geological, and horticultural observations. This looked like slowing down our process to consider the landscape from multiple lenses: how had settler colonialism impacted the current
state of erosion? How did dominant discourses frame how we understand environmental ‘problems?’ How can we learn to accept living with change instead of constantly resisting it?
During the month of fieldwork, my perspective shifted in terms of where and how influence and impact to the landscape might be most effective. Perhaps given the ‘saviour complex’ many of us enter this profession with of wanting to set things right, I assumed a large-scale project would be required to impact the landscape. With a complex system such as a river, where the effects being observed are often from changes in the landscape far upstream, these large projects I envisioned gave way to an interest in how smaller scale can function to protect the shoreline and offer people a sense of stewardship over their environment.
08/ A waterfront bank supporting and being supported by various root systems.
IMAGE/ Julia Pingeton
This thinking led me to see an opportunity to work with private landowners at the shoreline—people who observe changes to their home landscapes in real time and have both motivation and agency to do something about it. Anecdotally, each person we spoke with seemed to have a different impression of what might have been helping their landscape stay resilient—for one home, it was the wild roses, for another, it was some wild willow trees sprouting on the shore from the conservation area next door they didn’t clear. For most of them, it was not hard forms of infrastructure like stone walls.
These smaller acts of noticing exist in stark contrast to larger projects taken on by municipal actors. I witnessed a shoreline replenishment project while on site for 1.5 kilometres of coastline that will cost
09/ Deep tap root systems go far down into soil layers, creating a depth of stability that provides protection. The roots act as an anchor, holding soil in place from a deep location.
IMAGE/ Julia Pingeton
10-11/ A sandy dune and a rocky shoreline.
IMAGES/ Julia Pingeton
12/ Wild roses at the shoreline. June, 2024.
IMAGE/ Julia Pingeton
13/ An exposed root system turned driftwood, illustrating the potential for root morphology to serve as nature-based infrastructure in slowing coastal erosion.
IMAGE/ Julia Pingeton
GARDENS small gardens, big impact
the municipality $26 Million. This project involves quarrying inland and dumping aggregate matter on the beach to a height of 3 M. It is clear to me that the opportunity for change does not lie in these replenishment projects that cost municipalities millions of dollars and cannot be replicated across scales, but in encouraging actions that can be taken in the meantime waiting for municipal, provincial or federal help.
The majority of land is privately-held in many coastal environments (including many of the Great Lakes around Ontario). Taking inspiration from precedent projects that target residential land uses to try to aggregate ecological effects across a landscape, I am interested in exploring the use of small-scale gardens as a tool in addressing erosion in coastal environments. Rain garden rebate programs, such as those run by Reep Green Solutions, use this logic already in that addressing change in the landscape for large effects (across a watershed, in their case) will need to target small-scale changes at the individual level. Rain gardens work by combining a particular set of plants with a particular set of soils, and a lot of digging, to help water infiltrate slowly and be stored during major rain events. This helps to prevent stormwater systems being overloaded and slows major flood events.
already have knowledge about their environments, and equipping them with additional knowledge from conservation authorities, ecologists and landscape architects will create gardens that respond to residents’ needs and the ecological context of that particular community.
Additionally, these gardens will consider combining new methods of planting design to address erosion specifically. While conducting inventory at the shoreline, we noticed several plants with specific types of root systems seemed to co-occur on spaces where the shore was more stable than others. These root systems had deep, penetrating roots (such as lyme grass), spreading dense net-like systems (such as rugosa rose) and rhizomatic systems that encouraged quick and connected growth (such as poplar and aspens). Garden design will consider how to use inspiration from these root systems, the combination of which seems to contribute to a more stable shoreline, but using plants that are more responsive to their local context.
The shoreline gardens I envision would function similarly, in that their impact would be as much for the collective good as the individual property. Rather than trying to slowly allow water to infiltrate, these gardens would function to help stabilize soils and sediments in place. These gardens will be developed through community consultation. It is important to understand what people would like to see, and to create something beautiful and legible and functional. People
I am interested in collaborating with communities that are open to testing out these ‘shoreline gardens’ as a strategy to protect land from storm surges around the Great Lakes and other large water bodies across Ontario. I am also interested in working with local conservation authorities that might have information on best practices for planting species that tolerate occasional submersion.
14/ A sample area being identified for plant inventory.
IMAGE/ Julia Pingeton
15/ Illustration of root systems. Adapted from drawings by Dr. Erwin Lichtenegger and Dr. Lore Kutschera.
IMAGE/ Julia Pingeton
16/ Seaweed on the shore of tidal pools. These pools are part of the natural infrastructure buried in the beach replenishment project.
IMAGE/ Julia Pingeton
17-18/ Beach replenishment project in Sainte Falvie, Quebec. August, 2024.
IMAGES/ Julia Pingeton
HISTORY heritage revival
Villages are the living vessels of our collective past. Over centuries, tangible relics and intangible practices have layered themselves into the landscape, forming the bedrock of regional identities. These cultural treasures—festivals, crafts, buildings, stories—are more than quaint curiosities. They embody the historical essence of a place. Yet in China, a nation famous for its depth of heritage, rapid urbanization now threatens many of these living traditions. Harrowing challenges—the decline of oncevibrant heritage sites, an aging custodian population, waning interest among younger generations, and a lack of viable economic pathways—have left cultural continuity on precarious footing. How can we preserve our roots, thaw these “frozen histories,” and breathe new life into heritage sites so they serve contemporary communities and ecosystems, while ensuring their own sustainable futures?
These are my insights from a multidisciplinary development project in Shuangqi Village, China. Our team set out to revive its heritage—and, in doing so, forged a replicable model for heritage-rich villages across China.
Shuangqi’s Storied Past and Present Plight Located adjacent to the 5-A-rated Jianmen Pass scenic area, Shuangqi Village was once an important junction where two millennia-old routes—the Silk Road and the Tea-Horse Road—intersected, bearing witness to the rise and fall of the ancient Shu thoroughfare. Historically, north–south goods were exchanged here and east–west cultures collided; its strategically perilous terrain made it a coveted military stronghold, leaving behind a diverse legacy of history and culture.
However, with the rapid advancement of modern transportation, the once-bustling Shu Road has fallen silent, and amid widespread urbanization, Shuangqi Village has been
forgotten in the folds of history. The rapid growth of urban economies has left rural areas like Shuangqi lagging. Driven by economic pressures, many villagers have migrated to cities for better opportunities, leaving behind an aging population in deteriorating homes. The once vibrant Shuangqi has become a “hollow village.”
A Three-Pronged Revival Strategy
Believing that heritage survives only when people return, our team—drawn from landscape architecture, cultural studies, ecology, and community planning— proposed three integrated paths to Shuangqi’s “spring revival.”
1. Comprehensive Planning for Cultural Integration
We reimagined Shuangqi as a dynamic hub for sharing Chinese culture. At the heart of our proposal is a Heritage Sharing Centre: a multifunctional complex that combines a cultural-experience hub, community building spaces, an industry incubator, and a visitor information centre. Through interactive exhibitions and curated storytelling, the Centre knits together “old” and “new” villagers, forges urban–rural linkages, and embeds values of heritage protection alongside community development.
2. Enhancing Landscape Character
Drawing on the village’s agricultural traditions and historical narratives, we designed a series of landmark installations at key nodes. For example, we created an outdoor landscape area using traditional local farming implements that functions both as an educational exhibit and as an interactive entertainment space. Native, climate-adapted plants—chosen for both their ecological value and ornamental qualities—reinforce local biodiversity while offering new income streams through cutflower cultivation. These landscapes both rekindle communal memories and invite visitors into the living story of Shuangqi.
Early Impacts and a Sustainable Future
Reflections and the Road Ahead
3. Upgrading Service and Industry
To seed a sustainable tourism economy, we partnered with villagers to launch “Mountain Craft Workshop,” an educational-tourism brand rooted in the Qinba Mountains’ customs. We researched local production methods, folklore and crafts, then wove them into hands-on learning programs for urban school groups and cultural tourists. By training villagers as professional instructors and transitioning them from subsistence farming to roles as guides, artisans, homestay hosts and educators, we created new livelihoods without sacrificing authenticity.
Guided by a “scenic area and rural tourism” strategy, local government and community stakeholders have already seen remarkable change. Since project launch, more than 500 former migrant workers have found new employment within the village—running guesthouses, managing farmers’ markets and teaching workshops—producing nearly ¥5 million in direct economic benefit. Agriculture has shifted from staple crops to highvalue flowers, poultry, and specialty honey, all marketed under a unified Shuangqi brand.
These efforts culminated in Shuangqi’s designation as a third-batch provincial key rural tourism village and its recognition by China Internet News Centre as one of the nation’s “Most Beautiful Villages.” Yet beyond awards, the greatest victory lies in restoring Shuangqi’s social fabric: elders once resigned to empty days now exchange stories with visiting students, artisans revive nearly-forgotten skills, and young families find fulfillment in villagebased enterprises.
Reviving Shuangqi has been a journey of discovery and adaptation. We learned heritage can only flourish when deeply entwined with contemporary life—when old pathways guide new purposes, and traditions become living experiences rather than museum pieces. As a landscape designer, I believe we must create spaces imbued with warmth and meaning, where the echoes of the past resonate with the aspirations of tomorrow. In this way, we truly thaw frozen histories, letting the vitality of spring infuse our heritage for generations to come.
19/ The smiling faces of more than 150 villagers form a Dream Come True theme wall.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Qing Ye
20/ A collection of the smiling villagers of Shuangqi.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Qing Ye
21/ Heritage shown by villagers during the survey.
IMAGE/ Linna Chang
22/ Rendering of outdoor experience spots in Shaungqi.
IMAGE/ Linna Chang
TEXT/ LINNA CHANG IS A MASTER’S STUDENT IN LANDSCAPE ARCHITECTURE AT THE UNIVERSITY OF GUELPH, WITH PROFESSIONAL EXPERIENCE IN RURAL REVITALIZATION, PLANNING, AND CULTURAL HERITAGE-BASED DESIGN.
A standalone chimney tower in the middle of an empty lot might seem out of place at first glance. Yet, such structures dot Canadian urban landscapes, and may go unnoticed for their ecological significance. These peculiar structures tell a story of conservation efforts for the chimney swift (Chaetura pelagica), a threatened species of bird that has adapted to continuing urbanization and is named after its preferred nesting sites: chimneys.
Every spring and summer, parts of Canada’s urban skies come alive with the shimmering movements of chimney swifts. Bird watchers, sometimes fondly called “swifties,” gather at these chimney observation sites at dusk to witness the spectacle of hundreds of tiny bird silhouettes descending into chimneys. Their chirps create a symphony, and their acrobatic flights are mesmerizing. This experience was commonplace when chimney swift habitats were abundant and secure, the green cover was thick and offered insect-rich feeding grounds. Sadly, their numbers have declined by nearly 90 per cent since the 1970s, and they are now categorized as threatened species. Their habitats are increasingly dependent on urban structures for survival. To uncover the story behind this phenomenon and explore the balance between wildlife and urbanization, we spoke with biologists Natasha Barlow and Gabriel Evans-Cook from Birds Canada, who are dedicated to understanding and protecting these aerial insectivores.
Historically, chimney swifts used to nest and roost in hollowed old-growth trees
and caves. Widespread deforestation led to a phenomenon referred as facultative synanthropy, where they began nesting in residential and industrial chimneys as a substitute for their natural habitat. The anthropogenic structures provided a similar environment, an enclosed, textured interior surface that offered protection from predators and weather, serving as ideal refuge.
Fast forward to the present, where fewer chimneys are being constructed, while many existing ones are being demolished, capped, or lined with metal, rendering them inaccessible to these birds. Since old-growth forest habitats take centuries to develop, chimney swifts now face habitat loss on both fronts with diminishing urban habitats and scarce natural roosting grounds. This shift has had a significant impact on the chimney swift population. Evans-Cook says, “They’ve adapted so acutely to urban living in brick-and-mortar chimneys while there isn’t a significant enough presence of natural habitat for them to return.”
Approximately one-quarter of the global chimney swift population breeds in Canada, primarily in eastern Saskatchewan, southern Manitoba, Ontario, Quebec, and the Atlantic provinces. They migrate annually to Canada in early spring and back to tropical South America by the fall season, repeating this cycle each year. Barlow explains: “This journey is metabolically costly, and comes with lots of ecological uncertainties such as weather events and phenological mismatches (when insect emergence, their primary food source, fails to align with their arrival at breeding sites).” These disturbances, often driven by climate change, can lead to nutritional stress and declining populations. This threat becomes even more severe if their nesting habitats are lost as well. The Government of Canada’s 2023 Recovery Strategy identifies urban expansion, habitat destruction, and declining insect populations due to pesticide use as major threats to the chimney swift population. This situation underscores the need for balance between urban development and ecological preservation, as this Indicator Species struggles to survive in an increasingly fragmented habitat landscape. With both natural and urban nesting sites disappearing, conservation efforts have become more crucial than ever.
01/ Swifts entering chimney at sunset.
IMAGE/ Larry Gridley, courtesy of Queen’s University
02/ Chimney swifts in flight.
IMAGE/ Mike Veltri, courtesy of Queen’s University
03/ New Chimney at demolished
St. Raymond School site near Christie Pits Park, Toronto.
IMAGE/ Feroz Faruqi
TEXT BY FEROZ FARUQI AND BHAVANA BONDE, OALA
04/ Purpose-built Chimney tower in Bridgetown, Nova Scotia, replacing the demolished chimney of the Regional High School on Granville Street.
IMAGE/ Architecture49
05/ Axonometric views of the layers of proposed Chimney Swift Roost tower in Bridgetown, Nova Scotia.
IMAGE/ Architecture49
06/ Chimney elevation drawings for the replacement of an old chimney in Bridgetown, Nova Scotia. The original design featured a truncated top in line with the chimney’s historical proportions, but this was later value engineered out.
IMAGE/ Architecture49
07/ Map showing the new compensation chimney swift habitat, located not far from the original site.
Hamilton LRT Project / Metrolinx
Bird watchers play an influential role in conserving Canada’s avian biodiversity, as their observations and data collection efforts are essential for monitoring bird populations and informing conservation activities. A notable example is from 2019 when a professional wildlife photographer, Scott Leslie, discovered chimney swifts nesting in the Corbett Lake Old Growth Forest. He documented its habitat through photographs and videos, flagging the forest’s ecological significance. This discovery prompted the provincial Department of Lands and Forestry to temporarily halt logging operations in the area to protect the birds’ habitat.
Likewise, conservation efforts in urban areas have also focused on preserving chimneys with evidence of swift habitats. In 2023, during the demolition of a building at 662 King Street East in Hamilton for the Light Rail Transit (LRT) project, its chimney was identified as a habitat for chimney swifts. As a result, the plans were updated to retain and stabilize the chimney, ensuring it remained undisturbed throughout construction to maintain continuation of the habitat. As of 2025, the chimney remains preserved and is planned for demolition later this year. A new stand-alone chimney will be constructed a few yards away to provide compensatory habitat for chimney swifts.
Other such examples include a chimney tower designed in 2020 by the architectural firm Kohn Shnier at the former St. Raymond Catholic School near Christie Pits Park in Toronto. This minimalist structure replaced the school’s original chimney, providing a new nesting site for chimney swifts.
Another early example of a purpose-built chimney tower is in Bridgetown, Nova Scotia. The Regional High School on Granville Street was decommissioned and demolished in 2019. Its chimney, which served as a habitat for chimney swifts, was structurally weakened and could not be retained. Hence a new chimney was proposed. To maintain habitat continuity, the original chimney was preserved for a period, ensuring an overlap that provided the swifts with an uninterrupted roosting site. The new chimney tower was
IMAGE/
designed under Stacey Hughes and Laura Day at Architecture49 Inc. Halifax. While an exact replica was not feasible, the new design aimed to retain and improve upon its features, including brick texture, data ports for monitoring, and an access hatch for cleaning, drainage, and ventilation. Bhavana Bonde, a landscape architect with the firm, explains the challenges faced in designing a suitable replacement which proved more complex than anticipated. Bonde says, “We lacked specific ecological data on the original chimney, particularly regarding moisture content and other critical factors. While we had an architectural basis of design for the scale of the existing tower, there was no clear ecological criterion to ensure that the chimney swifts would return. This made decision-making difficult, especially when discussing whether to taper the tower— like the existing one—or make it straight. Tapering was more expensive, but without clear guidelines, it was unclear whether it was necessary.” The team also grappled with material choices: “Could the interior be concrete, or does it always need to be brick? Could the structure be brick on the outside but concrete inside?” These uncertainties complicated specification writing, and required extensive cross-disciplinary coordination. Despite being a seemingly small project, the chimney’s reconstruction involved a wide range of professionals— not just architects and engineers. Bonde and Barlow emphasize the need for more research and case studies on chimney swift habitats, suggesting that long-term data on temperature, and nesting behavior could provide much-needed guidance for future projects.
Evans-Cook explains how conservation effort is so unique when it comes to chimney swifts: “It’s a difficult conservation challenge because it doesn’t follow traditional methods. Normally, conservation efforts involve working with park authorities, conservation bodies, or ecological organizations that manage green spaces. But with chimney swifts, conservation efforts must be approached through the lens of urban planning and development. That creates a unique dialogue because there’s a knowledge gap on both sides. We are not experts in municipal building codes or the structural requirements that chimneys must
meet to be built or maintained. On the other hand, many urban planners are unaware that chimney swifts even exist, let alone that they inhabit the structures they oversee.”
Although these purpose-built structures are well-intentioned and designed to emulate traditional habitats by integrating biological specifications to encourage chimney swift return, Evans-Cook suggests that we should also consider whether we are making the species too reliant on artificial structures and pushing them to become Obligate Synanthropes (species that completely depend on urban elements). “There are species of aerial insectivores that are prone to becoming dependent on man-made structures such as purple martins in Eastern Canada which are now almost, if not exclusively, relying on artificial nest boxes produced by humans, contrary to their historical nesting habits. That’s a situation many conservationists would like to avoid with other species, like chimney swifts. So, having a balance—restoring oldgrowth habitats in a timely manner before the species becomes fully dependent on anthropogenic structures—would be ideal. There are also examples today showing that they are still capable of using hollow trees and caves. For instance, this year at the University of North Carolina, a mass roost was observed in a large tree on campus, which was really exciting to see.”
There is much to consider, assess, and research on this subject, but preserving active habitats for threatened species like the chimney swift goes beyond conservation—it is a recognition of our responsibility to maintain ecological
balance. By adopting innovative conservation approaches and integrating conservation into design and planning practices, we create a blueprint for a future where biodiversity thrives alongside human progress. Evans-Cook sums up the importance of protecting all such species: “Every species holds inherent value and deserves our respect and protection.” Simple as that!
08/ Chaetura pelagica, 1900. PICRYL. IMAGE/ Public domain. https://picryl.com/media/chaetura pelagica-1900-7794b5
09/ Chimney swifts in flight have cigar-shaped bodies attached to swept-back wings.
IMAGE/ Mike Veltri, courtesy of Queen’s University
10/ Chimney swifts in flight.
IMAGE/ Rachel Echols, courtesy of Queen’s University
BIOS/ FEROZ FARUQI IS A DESIGN PROFESSIONAL AT NEUF ARCHITECT(E)S AND AN INTERN MEMBER OF THE ONTARIO ASSOCIATION OF LANDSCAPE ARCHITECTS (OALA). HE HOLDS A MASTER’S IN LANDSCAPE ARCHITECTURE AND IS A MEMBER OF THE GROUND MAGAZINE EDITORIAL BOARD.
BHAVANA BONDE , OALA, IS A LANDSCAPE ARCHITECT AND NATIONAL PRACTICE LEADER AT ARCHITECTURE49. SHE BRINGS OVER THREE DECADES OF EXPERIENCE TO HER LEADERSHIP IN URBAN ENVIRONMENT AND PUBLIC REALM PROJECT DESIGN. HER APPROACH INTEGRATES CULTURAL SENSIBILITY TO CREATE SPACES THAT RESPOND THOUGHTFULLY TO THEIR CONTEXT.
MODERATED BY GLYN BOWERMAN AND SHAHRZAD NEZAFATI, OALA
BIOS/ HEATHER SCHIBLI, OALA, ISA, IS AN ASSISTANT
PROFESSOR OF LANDSCAPE ARCHITECTURE AT THE UNIVERSITY OF GUELPH WHOSE PRACTICE AND RESEARCH ARE ROOTED IN A DEEP APPRECIATION FOR BIOLOGICAL DIVERSITY. WITH OVER A DECADE OF EXPERIENCE DESIGNING ENVIRONMENTS FOR BOTH HUMANS AND NON-HUMANS, HEATHER’S RESEARCH DRAWS ON HER EXPERTISE IN ECOLOGICAL RESTORATION AND INVESTIGATES THE EMERGING FIELD OF MULTISPECIES DESIGN.
PATRICK BUNTING, OALA, IS A LANDSCAPE ARCHITECT AND SENIOR URBAN DESIGNER WITH THE NATIONAL CAPITAL COMMISSION’S PLANNING AND DESIGN TEAM. WITH OVER 15 YEARS OF EXPERIENCE IN BOTH THE PUBLIC AND PRIVATE SECTORS, HE HAS CONTRIBUTED TO AWARD-WINNING PROJECTS THAT RANGE FROM LARGESCALE MASTER PLANS AND URBAN REDEVELOPMENTS TO THE DETAILED DESIGN OF PUBLIC PARKS, PLAZAS, AND ICONIC NATIONAL SITES. A STRONG ADVOCATE FOR THE PUBLIC REALM, PATRICK IS PASSIONATE ABOUT THE POWER OF COLLABORATIVE, INTERDISCIPLINARY DESIGN TO ADDRESS COMPLEX URBAN CHALLENGES.
DAVID RESTIVO, ISA, IS AN ASSOCIATE WITH DILLON CONSULTING LIMITED WITH OVER 20 YEARS OF PROFESSIONAL EXPERIENCE PROVIDING ENVIRONMENTAL AND PROJECT MANAGEMENT SERVICES ACROSS SEVERAL SECTORS, INCLUDING TRANSIT AND TRANSPORTATION, ENERGY, MUNICIPAL INFRASTRUCTURE, AND REAL ESTATE DEVELOPMENT. HE IS AN EXPERIENCED PROJECT MANAGER, ECO CANADA ENVIRONMENTAL PROFESSIONAL, SENIOR BIOLOGIST AND SENIOR ISA CERTIFIED ARBORIST. DAVID IS A SUBJECT MATTER EXPERT IN RESTORATION ECOLOGY, ARBORICULTURE, URBAN FORESTRY AND NATURAL AREA MANAGEMENT, ENVIRONMENTAL IMPACT ASSESSMENT AND EFFECTS MONITORING, AND SPECIES AT RISK MANAGEMENT.
SHAHRZAD NEZAFATI, OALA, IS A LANDSCAPE ARCHITECT AND GROUND EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBER.
GLYN BOWERMAN IS A TORONTO-BASED JOURNALIST, THE EDITOR OF GROUND MAGAZINE, AND THE HOST OF THE MONTHLY URBAN ISSUES PODCAST SPACING RADIO
01-05/ Archival and modern views of the Alexandra Bridge in Ottawa, including perspectives from Parliament Hill.
IMAGES/ Courtesy of the National Capital Commission
Glyn Bowerman: How can we use landscape to promote restoration, regeneration, and rebirth of natural habitats in urban landscapes?
Patrick Bunting: It sort of does it on its own. I’m always struck by how regenerative landscapes are and you’re working with a dynamic system. I’m looking back at historic photos of Ottawa. At different periods, there’s rail scapes with absolutely no vegetation along industrial sites. And now you look at those scenes today and they are our iconic landscapes and cultural symbols. It’s interesting working with landscape as a medium. It’s not the same as architecture: it’s not enduring, it’s not a built entity, it’s a living, dynamic system.
Dave Restivo: We are challenged in urban landscapes by a lot of different stressors, including invasive species that have come into our natural areas and taken over our natural landscapes and cause a lot of degradation and ecological function decline in those features. And so, while natural regeneration was something that was done more often, and it was a go-to in previous landscape ecology restoration design approaches, it’s being used less now because an active management approach is needed due to these stressors. Besides invasive species, we have climate challenges as well, with extreme weather events and changes to precipitation, and many other factors that can affect natural areas. For all these
reasons, including people being in these natural areas in the urban landscape, we have to consider many different things when we design and implement.
Heather Schibli: There are a lot of stressors. Maybe we can flip them into opportunities. For instance, there was a paper in Nature that examined how urban spaces, because of the heat island effect, are actually microcosms of future climate for the surrounding rural landscape. We can use urban centres as assisted migration stepping stones on the genetics level, the species level, and the ecological community level. I want to dig into this and start using spaces like Toronto and Ottawa as little laboratories for introducing some genetics from further south. Because, if we look at the climate models, the regions we should be referencing right now include Ohio and New York State. There are many of the same species further south, so let’s look at those genetics. There are also near-native species we don’t have here that I would like to explore growing to see how they do in southern Ontario: especially the ones that do well in American cities in the Northeast. As an example, bald cypress can really handle urban spaces. Maybe we should try playing with that. I know it’s contentious, but we need to start designing for future climates in addition to the current.
The other thing is cities are just humanconstructed habitats. Humans have created many different types of habitats over
different periods of time. Some of those are very inclusive of other species and, in fact, bring about more biodiversity. It just so happens that we are in a dominant culture that unfortunately negates a lot of enrichment of biodiversity. And then, as Dave said, there are the introduced species. We can’t stop the unfolding effects of species introductions, so how do we work within this space? We need to look at engaging landscape differently, because ultimately, how our culture has been engaging with the land has led to declines in species diversity and abundance.
Furthermore, we’re in a traumatized landscape. When you look at old aerial photos of Toronto, there was very little vegetation. We have a lot more forest cover now than we did at the turn of the 20th century. In spite of humans being around (we kind of left the landscape to do its own thing) a lot has returned. But, going back to the point of European contact, this landscape was already highly managed. It was a form of agriculture that Europeans couldn’t recognize because it was more complex than the familiar monocultural approach. With First Nations, a lot of the agricultural practices were about creating the kind of habitat the game they wanted to hunt would love to visit. You bring the deer to you, so you don’t have to fence them in and control them. And by doing that you’re creating a heterogeneity in the landscape that brings
about a lot more diversity. There was a lot more prairie and savanna mixed in with forest cover, for instance. Then, when contact with Europeans in the 1600s came about, disease wiped out a lot of the First Nations population. And so, a rewilding happened, and the forest came in and engulfed a lot of what was here.
DR: We are looking at different perspectives and I think it starts at the planning stage. Designing is a further advanced stage where decisions have already been made about how a natural area might look or be regenerated. It has to start at the planning stage. And what we’re seeing is municipalities, for example, developing urban forestry management and natural area management plans. And they are not only considering the Western science approach, they are looking at gaining Indigenous perspectives and seeking engagement with them to gain some understanding of how traditional knowledge can be applied and the land could be managed in a different way. Indigenous people not only hold respect for the natural area, it’s part of their culture. So those perspectives are important. But just the fact that we’re now planning for natural areas is a great sign.
PB: A tangible project that comes to mind in Ottawa is Pīndigen Park, which I had the privilege to collaborate and work on, in the LeBreton Flats sector. It’s a post-industrial landscape that was appropriated by the federal government and is going through a transition. It’s a brownfield site and there’s an intensification scheme for it. We are working within a highly disturbed site, to the point where extensive soil remediation had to be done to decontaminate everything. And it brought about an opportunity, as we’re waiting for development to occur in the future, to create a temporary space, which led to a project done through Canadian Heritage, the National Capital Commission, and consultant agencies, to work with the Algonquin community to develop a temporary park space. The soil had been stripped down to bedrock and even in the year or two that that bedrock was exposed, there was aquatic vegetation starting to pop up on the site. We ended
up doing environmental compensation when we went to fill in the hole. But all of that led to an interesting cultural installation with very talented Algonquin artists telling a piece of their story, of the region, and their worldview through art on the site. So there’s huge potential for urban areas to do multiple things. And it comes back to: how do we bring species diversity, human use, and biological processes together in a way that responds to our current needs, but also solves the legacy issues we’ve inherited?
GB: How do we promote the social regeneration and rebirth? Our cities are habitats, we are animals, social creatures. So, on top of promoting nature in an urban setting, how do we create healthy landscapes for people as well?
HS: We often hear this narrative that natural places are fine until humans come in and mess it up. And we definitely heard this during COVID regarding urban parks: that the added people were loving these places to death. But I really believe the problem isn’t that nature struggles when people come in. The problem is we have stepped out of nature psychologically. We’re no longer psychologically integrated. We need to stop with the language of maintenance plans and start thinking of it as relationship building. When you’re spending time in the garden, you’re building a relationship with that land. We need to start flipping the narrative and start reintegrating people into landscape.
06/ Pollinators at work.
IMAGE/ Jennifer Wan
07/ A toad found weeding Leslie Lookout Park.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Heather Schibli
08-09/ P¯ndigen Park, Ottawa.
IMAGES/ Courtesy of the National Capital Commission
10-11/ P¯ndigen Park, Ottawa.
IMAGES/ Courtesy of Frost Photography 12/ Wetland compensation in P¯ndigen Park, Ottawa.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of the National Capital Commission
Even when I’m doing fieldwork with my coworkers, just the way we step through the space can be a big deal. We can either tromp through it because of efficiency, or we can look where we’re stepping and make sure we’re not mowing down every herbaceous plant in our way. Spring ephemerals, for instance, take seven to nine years before they even flower. So, if we’re stepping on that trillium, that’s not just a young flower. There needs to be a bit more respect and awareness. Modes of getting there are through storytelling, bringing back a sense of wonder, and just taking a moment to pause and to watch. We can design for interspecies interactions. Perhaps we can’t control those moments, but we can create space for the opportunity. Especially with children: can we please get away from these big fields that have a monoculture of grass? Let’s bring some messiness back into the landscape. Because the complexity can bring about so many more stories, interests, and opportunities to learn about the landscapes we’re a part of.
DR: Having a diverse landscape should be a goal for every park or natural area. You do see when you’re developing these plans, either at the planning or design stage, conflict between recreational amenities a municipality would like versus natural heritage and ecological sustainability. The challenge is to plan and design areas that can accommodate all these things.
There are also the ecosystem services, as we call them, these natural areas
can provide. Heather spoke to the psychological benefits of being in these spaces. They also provide stormwater management functions. And so, you’re involving engineers who are considering how things will function that way. You’re also considering, as Pat said, the restoration of soils, which oftentimes are quite terrible in the urban environment. So, you often need a multidisciplinary team involved in planning for these spaces, and input from stakeholders to contribute their perspectives to make a project successful.
PB: At times, it’s a question of the scale you are working at. Because, when we think in terms of an urban forest scale, that’s very different than one particular site or river system. So, at what scale are we intervening? Are we looking at this from a whole systems approach, or are we just tackling one particular issue? When it comes to invasive species and similar things, some of these great ecological corridors can also be vectors for the spread of problems.
It’s kind of a double-edged sword that the dynamic aspect of these natural processes can be incredibly regenerative and healing, but in the same breath can perpetuate problems as well. We need to become very clear about how humans intervene. Especially within urban areas. We are intervening, and actually taking no action is a choice as well. From end to end, the whole planning and implementation process has something to say about this.
GB: What are some specific, recent examples of natural and/or social landscape projects that come to mind when you think of birth and new beginnings?
DR: There is a project we presented at the OALA conference in the fall we’ve been working on developing a restoration plan for the last year or so: the Eglinton Crosstown West Extension Project with Metrolinx. This was an opportunity to do a line-wide restoration plan for a linear infrastructure corridor that was going to be disturbed, including park space and natural features areas, because of the construction of this large transit project. Neighbourhood residents and other community groups were very concerned at the level of disturbance, including a crossing of the Humber River, and the number of trees and other vegetation that was going to be disturbed. They were also coming from past experience, where there was a bit of mistrust with a big organization that didn’t necessarily live up to expectations in the past. So, it was a tall order to do this design, and it’s in the early stages of implementation now. Implementation will happen over a large period of time as the project is constructed and commissioned.
But we were able, for the built environment and the natural environment, to design a plan that considered many disciplines providing input in dealing with many constraints in terms of recreational amenities and infrastructure. Where was that going to go? And what are the expectations the City of Toronto and the Toronto and Region Conservation Authority have for the area in terms of naturalization and restoration? Time will tell, because the first part is the design stage, but the implementation phase is going to be very interesting in terms of how this all works out. There are high expectations.
PB: I alluded to Pīndigen Park, that’s a very tactical built project. It’s a temporary landscape. But we’ve done planting and tried to create an interesting installation with cultural significance in what is a transitory space. On the other end of it, from a larger scale, the Ottawa River South Shore Riverfront Park Plan is a nine-kilometre
stretch along the Ottawa River heading west of the downtown. We have a long-term plan for the transformation of those parkway corridors, which are human-constructed parkways from the 1960s era with very low biodiversity. The idea there is looking at how to bring back pollinator meadow species? How can we create pockets of reforestation? How can we create typology and undulation in the landscape to retain water, create pockets of microbiodiversity, and create habitat and animal crossings within that space? We’re looking at it from a larger systems approach of how to intervene to create conditions that don’t currently exist and use this this in a different way. And lastly, there’s the stewardship perspective. There’s the planting of Parliament Hill and managing what is an existing woodland landscape and slope stabilization for an iconic landmark in our nation’s capital. That has both an environmental infrastructure service of retaining that slope, but it’s also ensuring there is a healthy and biodiverse ecosystem with appropriate species.
HS: In Toronto, down by the waterfront, Dougan is part of the Port Lands Flood Protection project. We’re a small-time player in this very big project. But I loved learning that when they excavated for the new river bed, they found seeds that had been lying dormant for decades and had germinated once unearthed. And just nearby, working on the Leslie Lookout Park with CCxA,
planting a forest on a former parking lot, we saw how much a space can transform and how you can start to connect small green spaces to become a more robust mosaic at a landscape scale. Another aspect I was quite excited about with the Leslie Lookout project was we emulated Point Pelee Park as the forest community we wanted to bring to that site. As an assisted migration component, this nearby plant community should work well in Toronto, based on the climate models.
One species I surveyed at Point Pelee was blue ash. These trees had clearly been attacked by emerald ash borers but they were healing. I wanted to bring those blue ash to Leslie Lookout, because there are almost a hundred known native arthropods that depend on ash to complete their life cycles. With the wholesale removal of ash from the landscape, those insects are also faced with functional extinction. And then there’s the ripple effect. How many other species are dependent on those?
Because blue ash diverged from green and white ash at an earlier point on the phylogenetic tree, it’s just a little less palatable for the emerald ash borer and seems to be able to bounce back better. But you can’t find them in any nurseries because they’re blacklisted. So, we had to work with the University of Guelph Arboretum, which has a collection of blue ash. They collected
13/
IMAGE/ Sarah
14/ Rendering of the Ottawa South Shore plan.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of the National Capital Commission
15/ An emerald ash borer.
IMAGE/ Avid Cappaert - Bugwood.org CC BY-NC 3.0 US
Capital Hill, Ottawa.
Baxter, Unsplash
16/ The new Leslie Lookout Park, Toronto.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Heather Schibli
17/ Ecological restoration in the Treibner Tract, Huron County, Ontario.
IMAGE/ Jennifer Wan
18/ P¯ndigen Park, Ottawa, in winter.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Frost Photography
the seed and the contractors, Kayanase, propagated and installed the plants, (they’re out of Six Nations). Hopefully these trees will thrive and support some of those insects moving forward.
GB: Our cities are growing, and we need to densify them, as opposed to letting them sprawl. But can we make sure we’re not sacrificing opportunities for improving or adding to our natural urban habitats as we densify? And can we use these opportunities to promote human habitat: culture, new communities, art in the park, barbecues, programming, et cetera?
PB: Heather and Dave both alluded to this idea of complexity in the landscape. That’s crucial, and we need to start thinking as much in planning terms as landscape ecology terms. Why are we not talking about mixed use in our landscape or density? As much as we want human density in the urban areas, we want species density in our parks. It’s biodiversity. So, it’s the same issue on two sides of the spectrum. We want our green spaces to be as green and robust with that biodiversity as they possibly can, and our urban spaces to be dense, livable, and in proximity to those green spaces. I think densification of our urban centres is what’s going to help to alleviate pressures on some of the ecological context we’re living within.
That means shifting away from a monoculture. But that requires a different way of looking at complexity and how we manage it? What does that mean in terms of our processes? I like to look at what’s missing from the equation. Even in some disturbed landscapes, you look at a forest that’s kind of regenerated on its own, but it didn’t have a diverse starting point to come back from. Where are the ferns? Where are the ephemeral plants? What can we insert back into that? Well, we don’t have processes in place to be able to intervene. Who takes ownership for that? So, within these fringe areas of our urban spaces, who is authorized or willing to form a guerrilla effort to take that on? Who pays for it? Who initiates it? That’s a conversation we need to get into: how do we promote the missing middle of landscape?
DR: Having been a part of the development of urban forestry management plans and canopy cover assessments in municipal areas, what we found was the largest opportunity for greening or planting trees, increasing your canopy essentially, is on private land. A lot of the public spaces have been exhausted. There’s already existing vegetative cover there. So, we need to be educating the public and raising awareness for the benefits of greening individual yards, private land, your space, because that is where the greatest potential is. And it can all be integrated. If enough people adopt this
kind of approach and philosophy, private land can enhance the natural features they are adjacent to. And they can themselves become areas where wildlife inhabit that may have been absent for some time.
HS: If you’re losing quantity, then you must increase the quality. And if you look at the ravines in Toronto, the quality’s a bit lacklustre. The soils are fairly degraded. There’s a lot of mountain bike paths that cut through the side slopes. They weren’t designed, they’re kind of ad hoc. How do we design to accommodate that while also injecting those remnant spaces with some health so that they can support higher species diversity, a more complex palate? Maybe just doing interventions as simple as fencing off sections from deer and rabbits so they have opportunity to regenerate, and then just shift the fencing over to another spot.
GB: How do we guide this process? Is it a top-down thing that comes from municipal or provincial legislation? Is it a guerrilla thing like Pat alluded to? Or do we have to come at it from both angles and meet somewhere in the middle?
PB: It’s both angles.
HS: Both. Also, because we’re in somewhat turbulent times, the top-down approach seems a little precarious, especially south of us. So maybe we need to strengthen the bottom-up, provide a bit more empowerment to people so they feel like they have more ownership over public space and that they can invest time and care to build those interspecies relationships. It’s a bit of the tragedy of the commons that we suffer from right now.
Shahrzad Nezafati: On that note, I just wanted to ask, what is missing from our profession that stops a lot of us? I know there are specific projects that practice these ideas. They’re very successful. But it seems to me, every project, at any scale, should include these ideas and intentions, this type of ownership in the essence of the design. Is the education missing? Do we need to bring this to the universities?
DR: It goes back to the need for multidisciplinary teams. Technical discipline really can’t satisfy all these complex requirements for designs. You need structural engineers, stormwater management folks, biologists, ecologists, and landscape architects. I find the most effective way to naturalize these complex landscapes is to involve many disciplines and use their input. And other stakeholders as well, because you never know where a great idea is going to come from, and it may not be the technical expert that comes up with it.
PB: There are two aspects of theory and practice. Yes, education, obviously we want everyone to be learning best practices. But, in the same breath, without the opportunity to practice that, and without, as Dave said, the right experts in other disciplines, people who can add in extra information and help you figure out the problem, there’s a missed opportunity.
It also comes back to: how can we create the projects? We’ve all had ideas like, “Wouldn’t it be great to redesign this space?” Or, “I know exactly what we could do with this parcel of land.” There’s no project there, no impetus to go in and do something that could be beneficial. We work within the constraints of the projects established, but how can we start to shift the conversation
to frame these projects moving forward? Unfortunately, I think a lot of construction in the past has been led by infrastructure engineering perspectives. And if we can start to bring forward more of a curated landscape way of looking at things, that could lead to different types of interventions, funding streams, and ways of participating.
HS: As a firm with a specialization, we’re often brought in on multidisciplinary teams to provide ecologically-based design guidance. And I’ve found it’s interesting to see how different firms manage their sub-consultants. Some do it very well, in that they bring them together to share ideas. This sort of engagement can be very exciting because everyone has something to bring to the table. But there are others where you never meet anybody else on the team. You’re highly scoped, you don’t really have a clear idea of what the project is about beyond your tiny component. And I find the projects where there’s strong project management and a holistic approach makes for more inspiring and cohesive design. As Dave was saying earlier, there’s opportunity for creativity, and to share ideas, and to generate something that just isn’t possible if you’re only working from one field.
THANKS TO SHAHRZAD NEZEFATI, JULIE ST-ARNAULT AND HELENE IARDAS FOR COORDINATING THIS ROUND TABLE.
TEXT BY VICTORIA KALENIUK
Nestled along the scenic Niagara Parkway, Chippawa Battlefield is a site that blends ecological restoration with historical significance. While the area holds deep roots in Canadian history as the location of the 1814 Battle of Chippawa, its modern story is one of transformation from farmland to flourishing grasslands. Today, the site is a haven for native bird species and an example of how prescribed burns can rejuvenate ecosystems and combat invasive species.
From Farmland to Grassland Restoration
For decades, the Chippawa Battlefield was predominantly used as farmland. Continuous agricultural activity stripped the soil of its natural nutrients and diminished the presence of native plant species. Recognizing the importance of preserving both its ecological and cultural heritage, Niagara Parks undertook a mission to restore this land to its original grassland state.
Grasslands are vital ecosystems that support a range of biodiversity, particularly grassland-nesting birds. Over the years, efforts to restore Chippawa Battlefield have paid off. Today, it serves as an essential habitat for species like the bobolink and
eastern meadowlark, which had previously disappeared from the region. These birds rely on open grasslands for nesting and breeding, making the restoration work at Chippawa critical to their survival.
The Role of Prescribed Burns in Grassland Management
A key strategy in maintaining the grasslands at Chippawa Battlefield is the use of prescribed burns. Every spring, Niagara Parks conducts these controlled fires across seven sites, managing approximately 200 acres of land. The burns mimic natural fire cycles that were historically integral to maintaining grasslands. Without fire, invasive species and woody plants would take over, shading out native grasses and flowers.
Prescribed burns are not random events; they are meticulously planned and executed by a dedicated team. Niagara Parks boasts a trained burn crew of 30 individuals, all of whom have completed RX-100 certification, and three burn bosses who are RX-200 certified. These professionals ensure every burn is conducted with the utmost precision, safety, and ecological benefit.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Niagara
02/ Trained experts oversee the controlled burn.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Niagara Parks
01/ A prescribed burn at Chippawa Battlefield in 2024, Niagara Falls, Ontario.
Parks
How Prescribed Burns Work
The process of conducting a prescribed burn begins with careful planning. Burn sites are mapped out well in advance, and safety measures are established to prevent the fire from spreading beyond designated areas. Factors such as weather conditions, wind direction, and fuel moisture levels are meticulously monitored. These variables determine the timing and extent of the burn.
Once conditions are deemed optimal, ignition begins using specific patterns designed to control the fire’s behavior. The flames consume dead vegetation and invasive species, recycling nutrients back into the soil. This process not only clears the way for native plants to thrive but also helps restore the open landscape essential for grassland-nesting birds.
One of the remarkable benefits of prescribed burns is their ability to suppress invasive species. At Chippawa Battlefield, aggressive plants like phragmites and buckthorn posed a significant threat to the grassland ecosystem. Regular burns have successfully reduced their presence, allowing native grasses and wildflowers to reclaim the land.
Ecological Benefits of Prescribed Burns
The impact of prescribed burns extends far beyond the immediate removal of invasive species. These burns promote biodiversity by creating conditions favourable for native plants and
animals. For example, the return of the bobolink and eastern meadowlark to Chippawa Battlefield are not only indicators of a healthy ecosystem, but also integral to the site’s ecological balance.
Prescribed burns also improve soil health. The ash left behind by the fire acts as a natural fertilizer, enriching the soil with essential nutrients. Additionally, the removal of accumulated dead vegetation reduces the risk of uncontrolled wildfires, which can be far more destructive to the environment.
03-04/ Trained experts oversee the controlled burn.
IMAGES/ Courtesy of Niagara Parks
Challenges and Expertise
While prescribed burns offer numerous benefits, they are not without challenges. Managing fire requires expertise, coordination, and a deep understanding of ecological systems. The Niagara Parks burn team undergoes rigorous training to ensure they are prepared for every contingency. This level of expertise has made the prescribed burn program at Chippawa Battlefield a model for other conservation efforts in Ontario.
Weather conditions pose one of the biggest challenges to prescribed burns. High winds or unexpected changes in weather can make it difficult to control the fire. To mitigate these risks, the burn team continuously monitors conditions before and during the burn. Communication is key, with team members working closely to ensure the fire behaves as planned.
Another challenge is public perception. While many people understand the ecological benefits of prescribed burns, others may be concerned about the sight of smoke or the temporary blackened landscape. Niagara Parks addresses these concerns through community outreach and education, explaining the long-term benefits of burns for both the environment and local wildlife.
Engaging the Community
Community involvement is a cornerstone of the restoration efforts at Chippawa Battlefield. Niagara Parks hosts educational programs and guided tours to raise awareness about the importance of prescribed burns. Visitors learn about the science behind controlled fires and their role in maintaining grasslands. These initiatives foster a deeper appreciation within the community for the work being done.
Programs like adopt-a-tree and volunteer stewardship events further connect people to the landscape. By engaging locals and visitors, Niagara Parks ensures that the maintenance of Chippawa Battlefield remains a shared responsibility. This sense of ownership helps sustain the momentum of restoration efforts.
Looking to the Future
The success of prescribed burns at Chippawa Battlefield has laid the groundwork for future initiatives. Niagara Parks plans to expand burn areas and explore new techniques to enhance biodiversity. Advanced monitoring technologies, such as drones, may be integrated to gather data on the effectiveness of burns and guide future strategies.
The return of species like the bobolink and eastern meadowlark is a testament to the effectiveness of these efforts. As the grasslands continue to thrive, they will provide a sanctuary for wildlife and a living example of how ecological restoration can coexist with cultural preservation.
Chippawa Battlefield is more than a historical site—it is a testament to the power of ecological stewardship. Through prescribed burns, Niagara Parks has transformed former farmland into a vibrant grassland ecosystem teeming with life. The careful planning and execution of these burns have not only restored the land’s natural beauty but also created a habitat for species that rely on open grasslands.Visitors to the site witness not only a piece of history but also the ongoing efforts to protect and sustain this invaluable ecosystem for generations to come.
IMAGE/ Courtesy
BIO/ VICTORIA KALENIUK IS AN ENVIRONMENTAL PLANNER WITH NIAGARA PARKS, WHERE SHE FOCUSES ON SUSTAINABLE LAND MANAGEMENT. AS A CERTIFIED BURN BOSS AND LICENSED DRONE PILOT, SHE BRINGS A CREATIVE, HANDS ON APPROACH TO PROTECTING AND RESTORING NATURAL ECOSYSTEMS. BY BLENDING INNOVATIVE TECHNOLOGY WITH PRACTICAL FIELDWORK, VICTORIA HELPS BUILD RESILIENT LANDSCAPES AND STRONGER CONNECTIONS BETWEEN PEOPLE AND THE ENVIRONMENT.
05/ A prescribed burn at Chippawa Battlefield in 2024, Niagara Falls, Ontario.
of Niagara Parks
On February 28, 1959, the town of Listowel, Ontario, experienced a devastating tragedy that would leave an indelible mark on its history. During a routine hockey practice at the Listowel Arena, the roof and walls of the structure collapsed under the weight of accumulated snow, claiming the lives of seven young players and their coach. In a town of only 3,500 people at the time, everyone was touched by the tragedy.
In the aftermath, the community mourned deeply, and for decades, the memory of that fateful day remained a somber chapter in Listowel’s history. While there were modest commemorations, such as a plaque at the local library, it wasn’t until recent years that a more substantial tribute was envisioned.
The idea of creating a dedicated memorial park began to take shape as community members sought a lasting way to honour the victims and provide a space for reflection and remembrance. Spearheaded by the Memorial Arena Park ’59 (MAP ’59) Committee, the initiative aimed to transform the site of the former
Listowel Memorial Arena into a place that would both commemorate the past and serve the present community.
The project officially broke ground on May 7, 2024, marking a significant step forward in bringing the vision to life. The MAP ‘59 Committee, through dedicated fundraising efforts, successfully raised over $800,000, showcasing the unwavering support and commitment of the Listowel community. The park’s design was thoughtfully crafted by SHIFT Landscape Architecture, incorporating elements that pay homage to the lives lost while providing a space for community engagement, reflection, and recreation.
The culmination of these efforts was realized on February 28, 2025, exactly 66 years after the tragic event, with the official opening of Memorial Arena Park ’59.
The design of Memorial Arena Park ’59 is both poignant and functional. The sizable community fundraising efforts mean that this local park has many key features usually reserved for larger municipalities.
01/ Communal seating at Memorial Arena Park '59, Listowel, Ontario.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of SHIFT Landscape Architecture
02/ A gathering at the new memorial park.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of SHIFT Landscape Architecture
03/ Bronze skates represent a victim lost to the arena tragedy.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of SHIFT Landscape Architecture
04/ A memorial wall commemorating the seven hockey players and coach lost during the arena collapse.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of SHIFT Landscape Architecture
05/ Each pair of bronze skates in the park represents on of those lost in the accident.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of SHIFT Landscape Architecture
IMAGE/
11/
IMAGE/ Courtesy of SHIFT Landscape Architecture
06-07/ Construction on the new memorial park.
IMAGES/ Courtesy of SHIFT Landscape Architecture
08/ Seating at Memorial Arena Park '59, Listowel, Ontario.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of SHIFT Landscape Architecture 09/ A play space in the new park.
Courtesy of SHIFT Landscape Architecture
10/ Seating at Memorial Arena Park '59, Listowel, Ontario.
Courtesy of SHIFT Landscape Architecture
A memorial wall commemorating the seven hockey players and coach lost during the arena collapse.
The park’s memorial wall, inspired by the boards surrounding the arena ice with eight pairs of bronze skates placed at the base, will serve as a memorial commensurate with the scale of the tragedy. In addition to the memorial wall, there are eight flowering serviceberry trees representing each victim, offering a living tribute and giving shade and tranquility to the space.
For the community, it was important that the park could be used for an outdoor rink in the winter months. To pay homage to the original rink, there is a marker at the position of center ice, and four Stainless steel columns denote the corners of the original ice.
The Survivors Grove, furnished with an oversize timber harvest table and groups of chairs, provides the community a place to gather. With a view to the nature-inspired play space, it is a welcome place for all ages.
The unveiling ceremony was attended by over 300 community members, dignitaries, and donors, all coming
together to honour the memories of those lost and to celebrate the resilience of the Listowel community.
Michael Barker of SHIFT Landscape Architecture expressed the significance of the project, stating, “It was truly an honour for SHIFT to be the designers of Memorial Arena Park ’59 (MAP ’59). The project was deeply meaningful as we had the privilege of working closely with the local community and survivors to ensure their voices were heard and reflected in the design.”
The establishment of Memorial Arena Park ‘59 serves as a testament to Listowel’s commitment to honoring its history while fostering a sense of community and resilience. It provides a sacred space for reflection, remembrance, and healing, ensuring that the memories of those lost in the 1959 tragedy are preserved for generations to come. Moreover, the park stands as a symbol of the town’s ability to come together in the face of adversity, transforming a site of sorrow into one of hope and communal strength.
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Reeves Community Complex, City of Woodstock: A Showcase of Canadian Manufacturing Excellence
The Reeves Community Complex in Woodstock stands as a testament to Canadian workmanship, innovation, and collaboration. Reeves park was constructed utilizing products supplied by three Canadian manufacturers. The park embodies a commitment to quality, creativity, and communityfocused design.
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This project highlights the capability of our Canadian manufacturers to create durable, high-quality public spaces that enhance communities across Ontario.
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Ontario, in the middle of Johnson Tew Park, stands an improbably large birdhouse. Weighing about 2,000 pounds, and measuring 10 feet high and 20 feet long, the structure is meant to welcome back migrating barn swallows.
Like the chimney swifts in our page 10 story, barn swallows had for years made homes in the rural structures from which they take their names, and those are disappearing as farmland gets swallowed up by urban expansion. The giant birdhouse is meant to provide a new kind of shelter for the species, which has been in decline since the ‘70s.
The project was a dream of bird enthusiast Glenn Meldrum, the labour was a donation from the pre-apprentices of carpenter’s union LiUNA Local 837 (prefabricating in their training centre, disassembling it, then shipping it to the site), and the City of Hamilton provided the concrete footings.
The birdhouse was completed last December and will hopefully welcome barn swallows back to the area for years to come.
01-03/ A giant birdhouse for barn swallows in the Greensville community outside Hamilton, Ontario.
IMAGES/ Courtesy of LiUNA 837
04/ LiUNA workers piecing together the birdhouse.
IMAGES/ Courtesy of LiUNA 837
BIO/ GLYN BOWERMAN IS THE EDITOR OF GROUND MAGAZINE AND HOST OF THE SPACING RADIO PODCAST.
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Editor Glyn Bowerman
OALA Editorial Board
Victoria Big Yue Lau
Jason Concessio
Tracy Cook
Ryan De Jong
Feroz Faruqi
Mark Hillmer
Helene Iardas
Michelle Ma
Ashna Modi
Shahrzad Nezafati
Adam Persi
Julie St-Arnault
Natasha Varga
Jennifer Wan
Art Direction/Design Noël Nanton/typotherapy www.typotherapy.com
See www.groundmag.ca to download articles and share content on social media.
See www.groundmag.ca for a digital, searchable, archival database, listing all articles, authors, subjects, key words, etc. published in Ground over the years.
2025-2026 OALA Governing Council
President Aaron Hirota
Vice President Justin Whalen
Secretary Matthew Campbell
Treasurer Paul Marsala
Past President Steve Barnhart
Councillors
Matt Perotto
Cameron Smith
Kate Preston
Intern Councillors
Steven Shuttle Khadija Kushalgadhwala
Lay Councillor Karen Liu
Appointed Educator
University of Guelph Afshin Ashari
Appointed Educator
University of Toronto
Elise Shelley
University of Guelph Student Representative Amber Mays
University of Toronto Student Representative Benjamin Dunn
OALA Staff
Executive Director Aina Budrevics
Registrar Ingrid Little
Coordinator Olivia Godas
Membership Services Administrator Angie Anselmo
About
Ground: Landscape Architect Quarterly is published by Ontario Association of Landscape Architects and provides an open forum for the exchange of ideas and information related to the profession of landscape architecture. Letters to the editor, article proposals, and feedback are encouraged. For submission guidelines, contact Ground at magazine@oala.ca. Ground reserves the right to edit all submissions. The views expressed in the magazine are those of the writers and not necessarily the views of OALA and its Governing Council.
Upcoming Issues of Ground Ground 71 (Fall) Fear
Ground 72 (Winter) (Sub)Urban
Deadline for editorial proposals
September 29, 2025
Now seeking submissions at magazine@oala.ca
Deadline for advertising space reservations: October 8, 2025
About OALA
The Ontario Association of Landscape Architects works to promote and advance the profession of landscape architecture and maintain standards of professional practice consistent with the public interest. OALA promotes public understanding of the profession and the advancement of the practice of landscape architecture. In support of the improvement and/or conservation of the natural, cultural, social and built environments, OALA undertakes activities including promotion to governments, professionals and developers of the standards and benefits of landscape architecture.
Needs You
Ground relies on OALA members, people from related professions, and those simply passionate about landscapes.
If you would like to contribute in any form, whether it’s writing, photography, or participating as a member of our Editorial Board, don’t hesitate to reach out to us at magazine@oala.ca
Ground Magazine represents the work of many passionate volunteers. If that sounds like you, come join the team!
You do not need to be an OALA member or landscape architect to contribute to either the Editorial Board or the magazine, and anyone who expresses interest will be seriously considered.
20/
TEXT BY EMILEY SWITZER-MARTELL
24/ OALA
President’s Message
What is a place without people? Placekeeping, as I understand it, is the vital connection of people to the landscapes we create. We need people to help in our work through engagement and input during the design phase. We need guidance from Indigenous people to help us understand this land. We need hard working people and partners to build our designs. And finally, we want people to enjoy the places we create.
Simply put, people are what make the place a success.
Looking back, we had an amazing CSLA-OALA Congress in Ottawa. It was great to see many familiar faces, and I had the privilege to meet many landscape architects from across Canada. The event was a credit to the hard work, boundless energy, and enthusiasm provided by our volunteers and the OALA and CSLA staff. I will be forever grateful to all of them for one of the best Congresses I have ever attended.
One of the highlights was the OALA Awards Ceremony held at the Rogers Centre on June 5th. The OALA Awards recognize the volunteers and exceptional members who have contributed to the OALA and embody the fundamental principles of our mission, vision, and core values. This issue of Ground recognizes this year’s award recipients and profiles their efforts towards landscape architecture in Ontario. I invite you to consider nominating deserving members and the general public for an award in 2026. Nominations can be made year-round, and information is available on the OALA website.
The OALA is nothing without its volunteers. We simply cannot not deliver the programs and services we do without the volunteers who sit on our committees and task forces, provide mentorship to our intern members, represent the OALA at events or external groups, or have a role on Council. Simply put, it takes a village to make the OALA. We are always looking for help. As the saying goes, many hands make light work. I encourage members to check out the volunteer page online, as we have several vacancies and opportunities to be filled. Your participation makes a big difference!
Finally, the OALA is very excited to announce that next year’s OALA Conference will take place in Kitchener from October 1-3, 2026. Please stay tuned for more information, including the theme and the call of abstracts in the near future.
Editorial Board Message
For this half of the summer issue we conceptualized the theme of Placekeeping. Placekeeping is an interesting topic, as it goes beyond the idea of creation of place to include the concepts of stewardship, maintenance, and prioritizing ecological, historical, and cultural relationships. Instead of the term placemaking, which suggests a lack of an existing identity, placekeeping is a concept where a designer looks to find and understand the inherent and existing value of a site and not impose upon it through their work.
This part of the issue, by virtue of the theme, is deeply connected to our Indigenous communities and the ongoing national Truth and Reconciliation effort. As such, we bring this conversation to a head through our round table discussion. We tackle some important and difficult questions with our panel, including some of the negative impacts and pressures some of our policies have placed on our Indigenous designer colleagues. We hope you will find the conversation challenging and enlightening.
We received several great pitches for this half of the issue, but, due to spatial constraints, we had to limit it to two stories. We will look forward to being able to bring you the other great articles in future issues of the magazine.
This half of the summer issue also highlights our OALA awards recipients honoured at the CSLA-OALA Congress in June. Please take a moment to read through them and reach out to our honourees to extend your congratulations to them. As an honouree myself this year, I would like to thank the OALA and my nominators for the recognition. I am humbled and deeply thankful. The keen eyed of you will notice the CSLA awards are not included in this issue. Due to space constraints, they will be featured in our upcoming fall issue.
The Board and our editor and graphic designer have worked exceptionally hard to bring you this unique summer issue. We hope you will cherish it and find as much joy in reading it as we did in developing it.
MARK HILLMER CHAIR, EDITORIAL BOARD MAGAZINE@OALA.CA
Up Front: Information on the Ground
kìwekì point
Perched on the Ottawa escarpment, a stone’s throw from Parliament Hill, with a sweeping view that spans the Ottawa River, sits the newest addition to the National Capital Commission’s parks portfolio: Kìwekì Point (formerly Nepean Point), a place where history, nature, and culture converge.
PARKS
01/ Wood Fins on Whispering Point, Kìwekì Point, Ottawa.
IMAGE/ Michael Napiorkowski
Kìwekì Point, meaning “return to one’s homeland” in Algonquin, was guided by the ‘Great River Landscape’ concept, led by Janet Rosenberg & Studio. Situated on unceded Algonquin Anishinaabeg territory, the park honours the principles of placekeeping, which involves the active care of a place to preserve its cultural, historical, and ecological essence. The project’s interpretation plan, developed by ERA Architects, was central to this vision. It helped transform the landscape into a living gateway to the Ottawa River, designed as a space for storytelling, journey, exchange, and dialogue about the river’s significance. It is also the recipient of the CSLA 2025 Jury’s Award for Excellence. Through its approach, Kìwekì Point fosters a deeper connection between visitors and the land’s Indigenous histories and ecological richness.
The design of Kìwekì Point is guided by the theme of wayfinding, referring not only to physical navigation but also to the orientation of people’s identity, beliefs, and connection to the land. The park provides unobstructed views of the Ottawa River, allowing visitors to explore the surrounding landscape, contemplate its beauty, and reflect on the relationship between people and the environment. The design includes four guiding sub-themes: journey, bridging, cultural exchange, and teachings. These themes explore movement and self-reflection (journey), efforts to build relationships across communities (bridging), dialogue and mutual respect (cultural exchange), and the transmission of knowledge and cultural practices (teachings). These concepts are woven throughout the park’s design, influencing how visitors interact with the land and its layered stories.
The landscape design of Kìwekì Point is deeply intertwined with its thematic intentions, where every element, built or natural, contributes to a layered experience of wayfinding and placekeeping. This is a park that invites reflection, discovery, and a renewed relationship with the land.
05/ Unobstructed river views at the south side of the park.
IMAGE/ Michael Napiorkowski
06/ Wood Fins on Whispering Point, Kìwekì Point, Ottawa.
IMAGE/ Michael Napiorkowski
07/ Relocated Anishnaabe scout statue.
IMAGE/ Michael Napiorkowski
02/ Aerial shot of Kìwekì Point, Ottawa.
IMAGE/ Michael Napiorkowski 03/ River beings creatures, interpretive elements in Kìwekì Point. IMAGE/ Michael Napiorkowski
Relocated Samuel de Champlain statue, Kìwekì Point.
Michael Napiorkowski
Whispering Point
Whispering Point is an architectural lookout by Patkau Architects nestled into the landscape to provide an intimate space for reflection. At the highest point, a lookout platform offers a contemplative pause; a quiet moment to witness the convergence of city and nature. Together, they act as anchors for the theme of journey, offering settings for both personal introspection and communal gathering.
more inclusive narrative. The direction of Champlain is consistent to its original orientation, facing down river. The recontextualization aligns with placekeeping principles, inviting refection on the river’s significance to the Algonquin Anishinaabeg people and creating space for new stories.
Interpretive Elements & Site Furnishings
Michael Napiorkowski
09/ Whispering Point Lookout facing Pìdàban Bridge.
IMAGE/ Michael Napiorkowski
10/ Pìdàban Bridge.
IMAGE/ Michael Napiorkowski
Pìdàban Bridge
Named after the Algonquin word for “dawn,” Pìdàban Bridge, designed by Patkau Architects and Blackwell Structural Engineers, reinstates a historical pedestrian link between two historic Ottawa sites: Major’s Hill Park and the former Nepean Point.
Perimeter Ha-Ha: Unobstructed Views
Throughout the site, interpretive signage, storyboard panels, and digital elements invite visitors into a dialogue with the landscape. Layered Corten steel elements, representing “river beings” found in the Ottawa River area, communicate Indigenous worldviews and natural histories. These elements serve as gentle guides in the wayfinding journey, offering tactile and visual learning experiences that foster deeper ecological awareness.
The perimeter ha-ha detail design by Janet Rosenberg & Studio seamlessly blends landscape with scenery by way of recessed guardrails masked by carefully curated planting design. This feature is central to the design, ensuring the view remains uninterrupted. The planting strategy uses native species, deeply rooted in the local ecology, further grounding the site in its specific environmental and Indigenous ecological context.
Recontextualizing Monuments
The design repositions the Samuel de Champlain and Kichi Zībī Innini (formerly Algonquin Scout) statues to honour the site’s layered history, placing both figures on individual footings and fostering a
At every step, Kìwekì Point resists simplification. It embraces the complexity of place, its past, present, and future, through a design language that honours Indigenous presence and invites all visitors to orient themselves not just geographically, but emotionally and historically. In doing so, the site becomes more than a public park; it becomes a living landscape of refection, connection, and return.
TEXT/ KIMIA JOUYANDEH IS A MASTER OF LANDSCAPE ARCHITECTURE STUDENT AT THE UNIVERSITY OF GUELPH AND IS CURRENTLY WORKING AS A SUMMER STUDENT WITH THE NATIONAL CAPITAL COMMISSION.
COLEMAN NEY, OALA, IS A LANDSCAPE ARCHITECT
AT THE NATIONAL CAPITAL COMMISSION.
08/ River views from the north side of the park.
IMAGE/
Jane’s Walk is an opportunity for anyone to step into the role of city builder. No title needed, no planning or architecture degree, no special invitation. Just a willingness to be curious, share what you know, and to listen to what others know, too.
On the first weekend of May, people in cities across Canada and in over 500 cities around the world gather for a weekend of free, community-led walks that open up space to civic dialogue. These conversations don’t happen in boardrooms or council chambers. They happen on sidewalks, in parks, down alleyways, and across the familiar streets where we live.
The format is simple and intentionally informal. Anyone can lead a walk. If you live in a place, which all of us do, you have something to offer. Walk leaders are
11-12/ Large gatherings for this year's series
of Jane's Walks in Toronto.
IMAGES/ David Allen Jordan
JANE’S WALK community-led tours
neighbours, artists, historians, newcomers, teens, elders, people who live, work, or play in their city and want to share what they see, what they remember, or what they hope for.
The walks are conversational and not always scripted. People gather, listen, ask questions, and often join in with their own stories or understanding of a place. Some walks are carefully planned. Others meander. But all of them create room for meaningful dialogue rooted in lived and living experience.
Jane’s Walk began in Toronto in 2007, following the passing of urban thinker Jane Jacobs. Since then, it’s grown into a truly global decentralized movement, but remains deeply rooted in its home city of Toronto and throughout Canada. Cities like Calgary, Montreal, Vancouver, Ottawa, Windsor, Winnipeg, Waterloo, Halifax, and many more all host their own Jane’s Walk festivals with local organizers, leaders, and community organizers guiding conversations that reflect the unique character of each place.
This year the Toronto festival leaned into its purpose more than ever. Over 150 walks explored everything from green spaces and land trusts, to the housing crisis, street
13-15/ A Jane's Walk tour of the new Cherry Street bridge in the Portlands, Toronto. IMAGES/ David Allen Jordan
economies, and imagined futures of our communities. Events included workshops with community members at East Scarborough Storefront, digital panels on Reimagining Suburban Parking Spaces and Disrupting Public Space, as well as a screening of the documentary “Citizen Jane” at the University of Toronto. The Canadian Urban Institute hosted a public panel on city-building and Jane’s Walk with festival leads from around North America and Jane’s Walk steering committee members. Even the City of Toronto’s own Planning Department got involved, leading nearly ten walks. It was a notable shift, a moment when the City didn’t just ask for feedback but walked alongside residents, face-to-face and at street level.
Why does this matter? Civic trust is fragile right now. Belonging in cities is at an all-
time low. Cities are complex, changing fast, and people often feel left out of the decisions that shape their daily lives and don’t always know how to get involved or explore in their own cities.
Jane’s Walk offers a reminder that democracy is so much more than voting every few years. It’s about being in relationships with the place you live and with the people around you.
While placemaking often focuses on designing or building something new, placekeeping is about tending to what already exists and is rooted in memory, care, and continuity to the places we hold dear. It’s how communities stay grounded, even as neighbourhoods and cities shift and evolve. You can see it in the auntie pointing to a tree her neighbour planted 40 years ago, in the teen leading a walk through the basketball court that raised them, and in the newcomer who shares what home feels like now, on streets that still feel unfamiliar.
Jane’s Walk doesn’t promise to fix planning processes or change policy overnight. But it does create space for conversations that matter, conversations that often get rushed, overlooked, or never even start. It reminds us that civic dialogue can be joyful, complicated, spontaneous, and deeply human.
David Allen
Most of all, it shows us cities aren’t just built from the top down. They’re built through everyday acts of care: through noticing, through storytelling, through people showing up for one another, one block at a time.
In a city like Toronto and other urban settings in Canada, change feels constant. Trust, patience, and temper are in short supply. The kind of attention, joy, and conversation that builds and strengthens communities and connections isn’t just meaningful, it’s necessary.
And the best part? Anyone can start a Jane’s Walk. You don’t need permission or a perfect plan. Walks can happen anytime, anywhere. All you need is a place you care
about and a story, or even just a question. You don’t need to be an expert; let those on the walk help you.
To learn how to lead a walk, visit janeswalkfestivalto.com or janeswalk.org
Explore your streets and bring a few friends and neighbours along the way. A community is ready to walk alongside you.
Because sometimes, building a better city really does start with something as simple as walking together.
MODERATED BY JULIEN TODD
BIOS/ LISA PROSPER IS A MEMBER OF THE WASOQOPA’Q FIRST NATION. SHE IS AN INDIGENOUS CULTURAL HERITAGE CONSULTANT WITH EXTENSIVE EXPERIENCE WORKING AT THE INTERSECTION OF INDIGENOUS AND WESTERN PERSPECTIVES IN THE FIELDS OF HERITAGE, PLANNING AND DESIGN. RECENT PROJECTS INCLUDE TR’ONDËKKLONDIKE WORLD HERITAGE SITE (YUKON) AND KÌWEKÌ POINT (OTTAWA).
STUART CAMERON IS A LANDSCAPE DESIGNER WORKING FOR BROOK MCILROY. HE IS A MEMBER OF THE MÉTIS NATION OF SASKATCHEWAN AND HOLDS A MASTER OF LANDSCAPE ARCHITECTURE FROM GUELPH UNIVERSITY. DR. NANCY MACKIN IS FOUNDER OF MACKIN ARCHITECTS LTD, RECENT RECIPIENT OF CANADA GREEN BUILDING COUNCIL “AGAINST THE GRAIN” AND “WESTERN RED-CEDAR” AWARDS, AS WELL AS A CANADA GREEN BUILDING AWARD (SAB) AND ARCHITECTURAL FOUNDATION OF BC AWARD OF EXCELLENCE. NANCY IS AN ADOPTED KILLERWHALE IN GITWINKSIHLKW (NISGA’A) AND KITSELAS (TSIMSHIAN). NANCY’S ARCHITECTURAL AND LANDSCAPE WORK WITH POLAR AND SUB-POLAR INDIGENOUS PEOPLES HAS BEEN PRESENTED INTERNATIONALLY.
JULIEN TODD IS A THIRD-YEAR ARCHITECTURAL STUDIES STUDENT AT THE UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO. HE IS ORIGINALLY FROM ALBERTA AND HAS NOW LIVED IN TORONTO FOR THE PAST 3 YEARS. A MEMBER OF THE MÉTIS NATION OF ALBERTA, JULIEN HAS A STRONG PASSION FOR INDIGENOUS ARCHITECTURE.
DAVID FORTIN (RED RIVER MÉTIS) IS A REGISTERED ARCHITECT AND PROFESSOR AT THE UNIVERSITY OF WATERLOO. DAVID'S PROFESSIONAL PRACTICE AND RESEARCH PRIMARILY FOCUS ON DESIGN AS A PATH TOWARDS RELATIONSHIP-BUILDING AND RECONCILIATION, AS WELL ADVOCATING FOR DEEPLY AFFORDABLE HOUSING. HE IS A FELLOW OF THE ROYAL ARCHITECTURAL INSTITUTE OF CANADA (2025). HE HOLDS A CANADA RESEARCH CHAIR IN CRITICAL RELATIONALISM AND DESIGN.
Julien Todd: What does placekeeping mean to you and how does it inform your work?
Lisa Prosper: I work in Indigenous cultural heritage conservation, including cultural landscapes. I don’t think about my work through a placekeeping lens per se. I’ve always thought a deep understanding of place and the many associations people have with place is important to both its future and stewardship. I tend to focus on the relationships between people and place, and less about the place in isolation. That really defines a cultural landscape approach. Placekeeping is actually a new term for me. It’s not something I associate with my work.
Stuart Cameron: I graduated recently, so I’m more familiar with the term. It was brought up a lot during my Masters studies, but with our company Brook McIlroy, placekeeping is involved in every aspect of our Indigenous projects from beginning to end. It’s the inclusion of the entire community. We have a saying in our Indigenous design studio: “Nothing about them without them.” You must have the community included, otherwise you just don’t do any sort of cultural work, because it becomes disingenuous. Many times you get asked to do projects and put Indigenous design into it, but they
have no budget for consultation. We don’t like that, because when you don’t include the community, you lose the stories and relationships that make a place what it’s supposed to be. When you actually engage the community and listen to people, you’ll have a successful project in the end, instead of just trying to force it in. You have to truly listen, set your ego aside, and realize we design better when we work together.
David Fortin: Similar to Lisa, the term placekeeping is not something I was educated or brought up on. In fact, I give credit to Wanda Dalla Costa who was the first person in architectural discourse I heard talking about it years ago. At the time, people were talking about placemaking, which can be perceived as a colonial term: that land is devoid of “placeness” and your design interventions are going to create something of significance that didn’t exist before.
From an Indigenous perspective, that is not true, because there’s no such thing as placelessness. Every place has its own material, energy, spiritual connections, life, all those things. So, I think the term is valuable. Because in the ‘60s or ‘70s when Christian Norberg-Schultz was talking about genius loci, the idea of the difference between space versus place, it’s often understood as something phenomenological, that it’s about our consumption: you travel because you want to experience places and consume them in some way. Placekeeping is a reminder that places are special because of their distinctiveness. So how do you preserve that? It’s by having relations with it. In my own work, I’m very interested in the politics of that.
I’ve recently been named a Canada Research Chair and I called the position “Chair in Critical Relationism and Design.” It’s something I’ve picked up from a different branch of academic work, but critical relationism is a critique of critical regionalism, which was big in the ‘80s and ‘90s in architectural discourse. The thinking behind critical regionalism was great. It was the idea you couldn’t just create modern white boxes all around the world in international style and it would all be beautiful. Critical regionalism said there are distinct landscapes you should attune your design to where it makes
sense, and the form would respond to the landscape. It was big with people in Canada like the Patkaus Architects, Brian MacKayLyons, Shim-Sutcliffe Architects, and other great designers.
But as I read through that stuff now, 25 years on, there was never a conversation in critical regionalism about Indigenous peoples. What I’ve been proposing with critical relationism is the evolution of critical regionalism and a reminder that places have their spirit, of course, but they also have people who have been there for thousands of years. Every landscape in the world has people who have knowledge attuned to that, whose languages are deeply tied to that. That’s really what placekeeping is about to me: none of us want to live in a McDonald’s, a branded experience in a world of sameness. We love places for their placeness. That’s what I like about the term.
Nancy Mackin: The thinking about placekeeping as opposed to placemaking is much like what David said: it’s important to keep the spirit of a place and the wisdom and stories of Indigenous people, as opposed to making up a whole new context. Placekeeping is different for every Indigenous community. Everyone I’ve worked with has something important that brings greater health to the environment and people. And it reflects upon the vegetation history and the architectural history of that particular Indigenous culture.
Every single project, with every culture of this land and lands around the world has this Indigenous spirit to it, but also actual knowledge. And that can be expressed through architecture and landscapes in a way where the Indigenous community truly owns it, where it’s their wisdom. An example would be the youth centre I designed for the Tsawwassen First Nation in southern Vancouver. In their treaty, they were recognized across Canada for the way they looked after birds. Bird life was very important to the Tsawwassen First Nation, their economy, their ecological health, and the beauty and interest of the landscape—
01/
Tsawwassen First Nation Youth Centre, south of Vancouver, British Columbia. IMAGE/ Ema Peter, courtesy of Mackin Architects
an incredible diversity associated with this particular landscape. And so, we reflected this idea in all kinds of architectural details. And we made sure we got art grants, so that we could help build the reputation of the local artists, as well as pay them, because we always wanted to pay our knowledge holders. How do you collaborate? You always recognize knowledge holders are not just giving stuff away: that they have a valuable depth of wisdom. It was that interchange with the Tsawwassen First Nation that led to a design that has birdfriendly vegetation, glass, symbolism, and the community just loves it. It is their building. That happens every time you work directly with a community, whether it’s the Sami in Northern Norway or the Haida and Haida Gwaii. Each one has a distinctive culture and landscape and architectural history.
Part of the onus on the designer is to find out from the community what their interpretation of history is. Don’t just read books that talk about it—although that’s an important part of background research—but also say, “What in this site is meaningful to you? Which of these sources of knowledge are not directly validated in the community? Which ones should be overruled and looked at by the wisdom of the elders themselves?” Every
design solution must have a crystallization of this Indigenous knowledge reflected, not taken, but shared with the world.
JT: On Indigenous consultation or engagement, how has it been done right and wrong? And do we put too much pressure on Indigenous designers, students, and communities as a whole within our practices?
NM: Something that doesn’t work is a cultural advisor, nearly always non-native, between the architect or landscape architect and the community. That separation is being adopted by quite a few communities. Working directly with the knowledge holders, artists, and young people in designing their buildings, where they have a sense of ownership, the landscape or architecture reflects the community better than if we have someone who just takes ideas to a community and presents them on your behalf. More direct communication and innovative ways to ensure people in the community are compensated for their wisdom are best.
SC: Proper communication is critical. On one project, we wanted a city to employ an Indigenous artist to come up with a design, to do some placekeeping along the
03/
IMAGE/ Ema
02/ Tsawwassen First Nation Youth Centre, south of Vancouver, British Columbia.
IMAGE/ Ema Peter, courtesy of Mackin Architects
Bird designs in the Tsawwassen First Nation Youth Centre.
Peter, courtesy of Mackin Architects
waterfront. But there was some back and forth between and it fell through. The artists thought the architects and the landscape architects would take their idea and run, and they themselves wouldn’t get paid for it. That was not the intention at all, but there was poor communication. When you’re playing telephone tag with multiple people, you can run into these issues. It’s just best, when you’re engaging people, to make sure they know they will be compensated and you’re not taking advantage of them.
We’ve never had a go-between, as Nancy was speaking about. We go to the community, we talk to elders, knowledge keepers, children, and the councils and staff, to get a holistic view of what everybody needs in a community. What definitely doesn’t work is when you helicopter in and there’s no budget for real engagement.
To your second question, with zoning or site plan submissions, there are a lot more Indigenous components required, but many of the projects have no funding for it. There’s no one to talk to if you’re doing a condo on Yonge Street or something. Who are you going to reach out to, and are they going to want to talk about doing a 30-metre streetscape? So, there’s a lot of push for this, but we’re trying to focus more on the projects that are going to have actual meaningful
engagement, instead of just trying to fill a checkbox for a city government.
DF: When I was in university, there was so little conversation about Indigenous peoples that it was pretty much irrelevant. That’s why I always say Wanda was a trailblazer. I graduated with her. She defined her discourse for herself. I was studying in Alberta and no one even talked about Indigenous architect Douglas Cardinal. So, my generation didn’t necessarily feel the pressure to provide an Indigenous perspective as some young people do now. For instance, I know of a student who did a co-op for a big firm and was often put in positions where they were asked to give “traditional teachings.” That kind of expectation is very unfair to many of us in different contexts. You’re trying to learn how to become an architect, you may or may not have been exposed to traditional teachings, may or may not have grown up on a reserve, even though you’re Indigenous. People want it earnestly and it comes from a good place, they want to learn more, but it can be a lot of pressure, particularly on young people.
I came across a term recently from a PhD thesis I’m reading by a Maori student in New Zealand, where they use the term “Indigenous settler,” which I had never heard before. I’m in tune with my Métis family and where I’m from. So, when I’m working in Saskatchewan or Alberta, working with the Métis Nation, I feel at home being a voice. Those are my roots. Those are my kin. But I also do a lot of work in Ottawa and southern Ontario, and I always say to people, “I’m as much of a guest here as if I was from England or Japan.” So, even though I’m Indigenous, I don’t have any sacred teachings there, and I need to listen. But those expectations exist, and they can be very intimidating for people who are starting their careers. You want to be confident in your skills and know you bring value to a project. But you also want to be honest and say, “I don’t carry those traditional teachings.”
But what those of us who have grown up around Indigenous peoples can bring to the table is reading a room. Sometimes things as subtle as body language. Whereas a lot of people who haven’t been raised in those
04-06/ The Ziibiing Project, Taddle Creek, at the University of Toronto. IMAGES/ Courtesy of Brook McIlroy
environments might misread circumstances. It makes a big difference when you’ve got an Indigenous designer on the project. But there is such a small number of people in our professions who can actually step into a room and do that work. We’re very underrepresented. So, there’s a lot of pressure on our firms to bring that voice to the table. And then you’re often in a position where people want you to join in a kind of consultant role, for a small fee, while the other firm gets paid more and gets to do the work. How can you navigate that professional landscape and still feel like what you’re bringing to the table has value?
Then there’s the question of how you represent First Nations, Métis, and Inuit people for an embassy, for instance. How do you properly engage with every Indigenous nation in the country? That’s an impossibility. But you do have to acknowledge our Indigenous heritage and communities. There’s a lot of pressure and awkwardness in those conversations where it can feel, not necessarily tokenistic, but it’s not rooted in the engagement you would love to have on the community-based projects.
SC: I grew up in Saskatchewan where my family runs Dieter Martin Greenhouse, so I know all the medicinal prairie plants well. But now that I work in Ontario, it’s a whole different plant palette. And I’m getting used to it. I know many of the native species growing in southern Ontario have medicines behind them, but I’m not familiar with that knowledge. So, getting asked to help design an Indigenous garden here is more difficult for me.
NM: One opportunity on almost any site is to have an ethnobotanical garden—to bring in native plants Indigenous people use for their medicinal, nutritional, or environmental benefits. It’s even a chance to bring back Indigenous languages: we can design a garden which has signage including the names of the plants in the language of the Indigenous culture of the region. It communicates this was a place that belonged to Indigenous people for thousands of years, and here are some of the ways that community kept the environment and people healthy.
The mode of communication is also important. So, rather than communicating through your typical architectural drawings and rivet models, you can also work with hand-built models people can take apart, or landscape models with miniature plants. Then people can see how the design elements interact and how the symbolism of space can be reflected. We need tools that allow a child or an elder from a community to weigh aspects of a design or suggest alternatives. Suddenly there’s a richness, a layering of knowledge that goes back and connects to ancient history, and through the future.
LP: I often find I’m not working for community, in community. I’m often working on public projects at the federal level. Those are unique circumstances that come with a lot of trepidation, politics, and negotiating. And fear is really the core of it. On the other side, it’s a big stage. For the Indigenous community involved, it may be a chance to make a political statement. So, it can be quite complex. Often the role being asked of me or others like me is disproportionate to what I can actually bring to the table. But I am at the table, so who else is going to do it? You often overstep your ability to articulate when you wind up playing a kind of translator role.
Another issue with the work I do is engagement occurs pretty far down the line. The Indigenous perspective in a project, or how it might impact a community happens long after the original design concept. So, there’s no real opportunity for ideas or teachings to inform the conceptualization of the project from the outset. It’s already too late. You’ve already closed a lot of conceptual doors. And I think a lot of the strength of Indigenous voices on projects comes at the conceptual level, because Indigenous people understand land and the world differently. We interact with the world differently. You see western assumptions played out at all levels, and no one calls them out. They’re understood and embraced by everyone at the table except you. I find myself having to lob conceptual bombs into a projects. So, the work is often about finding opportunities to educate.
It’s also important to ask how the project will benefit a community. What’s the opportunity for, say, language regeneration? How can a project assist in whatever it is the community has identified as meaningful or a priority? How can this project be a conduit for the community? In that way, not every project is the same. Requests for Proposals all want an Indigenous component. Well, not every project is worth it. Communities will tell you that. You have to identify the meaningful opportunities. What are the ways to find positive outcomes and put collaborative energy into those things, not just what the project thinks is important.
JT: I’ve had similar experiences coming from Alberta, living in Toronto, working with other Indigenous nations and cultures that aren’t my own and finding ways of relating. You automatically become the Indigenous consultant. How have you balanced your own background, being an “Indigenous settler,” and working with other communities? And do you establish a connection within communities while also trying to respect the different cultural identities and experiences?
DF: I mentioned listening earlier, but genuine humility is first and foremost for me. Architects and designers in general aren’t always great with that. A big part of our education has been to celebrate the best designer, and ego can guide approaches to design. There’s nothing evil about that. But when you’re working with communities, you have to remind yourself this isn’t about you, your portfolio, or anything like that. This has to be a humble service to a community.
And younger architects will tell me, “I feel nervous. I have some Indigenous heritage, but I don’t know if I’d be accepted.” There is a lot of trepidation nowadays. It’s actually good people feel a little bit of that, because
there are many opportunists who aren’t in it for the right reasons. But be humble and extremely honest. Don’t go into a space and try to portray yourself as holding knowledge you don’t. In communities I’ve worked in, the elders are often quiet, because they’re trying to assess your intent, where your heart is. The only way to work in a good way with those people is to be honest with who you are, while remaining confident about what you bring to the table. You don’t have to be shy about that. You have a skill set that can benefit those communities. But lead with honesty, humility, kindness, and everything else will fall into place. That’s always been my experience with communities, and I always feel embraced when I start with that premise. Then, over the years, you just continue to learn. There is kind of a baseline similarity with many different communities. And the stories you hear from each one do provide perspective you can use later on. The more you work with people, the more you understand and don’t over intellectualize. It’s breaking from the idea of extracting someone’s cultural knowledge and translating that into design. That shouldn’t be your intent.
NM: Architects and landscape architects can be catalytic to a community becoming part of a project. For example, in some communities we would build traditional structures with the high school students and elders there, and there would be a level of engagement that went beyond words sometimes. The elders would recall something their grandparents did, for instance, and it would inform the project. There’s a kind of knowledge that comes out that is shared but, as you say, not extracted.
One very short idea is that almost any project could benefit from signage in the Indigenous language of that place. To learn a few more words and highlight that these are the people who belonged here first, therefore the language comes first.
LP: The quality of the relationships you develop through this work are personal, and that’s fundamentally how you need to present yourself. You are in the room as yourself, your job or your role. And that’s one of those conceptual shifts: most people walk into the room role first. You need to be quite vulnerable and realize you’re asking people for their time, interest, and knowledge, and you need to be forthcoming and available to interact at a personal level. There’s a delicateness and level of care with that interaction that you may not bring into another work environment. It is something you have to get used to. But, ultimately, when we say relationship building, that’s what we’re talking about. That’s the only way we’re going to start to move in a different direction.
DF: Douglas Cardinal himself talks about how he spent most of his career just trying to decolonize the way he’d been colonized. It’s a double-edged sword in some ways: we have these great opportunities, but in reality, we are confined by a consumer commodity-driven building system. The economics of what we do are often about meeting all your metrics, your budget, and you have to use X, Y, and Z materials. So, you’re very constrained. The language you have to use in your design process is another constraint. How do you do all that and still ground yourself in what you’re trying to achieve? I believe Indigenous teachings have profound transformational possibilities for architecture as a field, but you don’t just get there by making things look Indigenous. It’s about a value system. Douglas and a few others are the only ones I know that engage in ceremony regularly. What is the ethical grounding? What is your spiritual grounding and how does that impact what you do? That’s hard to think about when you’re living in urban environments and stuck in Zoom meetings. The confines of our day-to-day routines make it very difficult. Indigenous architects are up for the challenge, but those
constraints make it very difficult, and that’s something we’re still navigating. In many ways, I don’t really care what a project looks like. Is it helping us transform so those teachings the elders and communities share about how to live in a society are reflected in the work? And if it’s not doing that, are we just aestheticizing?
LP: I see dysfunctional relationships more often than functional ones in my work, either with the client, the proponent, the consultants, the whole bag. If we’re really going to realize The United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, Indigenous people need to be the decision makers, not just people you consult or engage, not the one Indigenous person on the project. An expression of self-determination should be our ultimate goal. Obviously, we need more Indigenous architects and landscape architects. But generally, we need more Indigenous people in the room and playing many different roles, and occupying decision-making positions.
07/ The Ziibiing Project, Taddle Creek, at the University of Toronto.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Brook McIlroy
08/ Ma Faamii Community Hub, Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. Completed 2023. Client: Métis Nation Saskatchewan.
IMAGE/ Amy Thorp, courtesy of David T Fortin Architect
09/ Sunshade in misatimosimôwin mîhkowâp (Horse Dance Lodge), Regina, Saskatchewan. Completed 2023. Client: Silver Sage Housing/ Regina Treaty/Status Indian Services (RT/SIS).
IMAGE/ BigBlock Construction, courtesy of David T Fortin Architect 09
Those who walk the path of the Credit River will appreciate its rich natural and cultural heritage, and how it connects communities throughout the southern Ontario landscape. The river has an enduring ability to heal and to sustain life.
As one of 36 conservation authorities in Ontario, Credit Valley Conservation (CVC) is dedicated to protecting, restoring, and managing the natural resources of the Credit River Watershed, and acts as the primary scientific authority there.
The Credit River Watershed is part of the Treaty Lands and Territory of the Mississaugas of the Credit First Nation. It is also part of the traditional territory of the Huron-Wendat and Haudenosaunee, and home to many First Nations, Métis, and Inuit Peoples today. Treaties made with Indigenous Peoples are enduring and include responsibilities for both parties. CVC affirms that this land and water is our common source of life, and we must all share responsibility for its care and stewardship for now and future generations.
TEXT BY KIM WHEATLEY AND SCOTT CAFARELLA, OALA
CVC is currently advancing several regional-scale placekeeping initiatives that foreground Indigenous Treaty and Rights Holders, emphasizing placekeeping practices grounded in reciprocity and sustained commitments to reconnect communities with the land.
Credit Valley Trail
The vision for the Credit Valley Trail—a continuous trail spanning the entire Credit River valley—dates to CVC’s first Watershed Plan in 1956. This long-standing vision has recently been renewed through the development of a unique and collaborative governance model that brings together Treaty and Territorial Rights Holders, non-Indigenous partners, and community members.
The Credit Valley Trail will be a 100-kilometre trail along the Credit River valley—from the headwaters in Orangeville to Lake Ontario in Mississauga—connecting people to nature, cultural experiences, Indigenous heritage, and the sustaining waters of the Credit River. The Indigenous Roundtable, an Indigenous led committee made up of community representation from the Mississaugas of the Credit First Nation, Cree, and Huron-Wendat First Nations, is guiding the planning process to recognize and honour Indigenous knowledge, history, and present-day culture along the trail. The Indigenous Roundtable have identified seven key sites that will be constructed along the Credit Valley Trail route. Each site will be represented by an Anishinaabe doodem (clan system) and incorporates an Indigenous experience narrative that includes storytelling, teachings, symbology, and other cultural elements.
As a member of the Indigenous Roundtable, Grandmother Kim Wheatley has guided the CVC through the Credit Valley Trail project and has graciously shared her knowledge and wisdom with us:
“Aaniin Boozhoo Kina Wiiyaa (Greetings my relatives).
Ancestral knowledge and relationship to land is a way of life for the diverse Sovereign Nations of Turtle Island.
For time immemorial, we have traversed the lands and waters of our great island (North America) respecting all life and the importance of interconnected relationships to the lands, waters, and creatures who inhabit those spaces.
Working with the Credit Valley Conservation team of committed contributors regarding the placemaking sites dotted along the newly developing Credit Valley Trail has been an incredible validation of historic existence and interconnectedness. Indigenous people have always engaged with water bodies big and small, but the Credit River was and still is an integral part of life, and provides connections from northern regions of the province right down to the southern regions.
Many significant stopping places were recognized along the way, each place holding memories and honouring relationships to the natural world that support diverse aspects of life mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Anishinaabe People recognized the importance of giving thanks along these well used routes which provided sustenance, shelter, medicines and rest.
Through deep discussions and commitments to remind Canadians at large of the significant stopping places along the Credit River, the Indigenous Roundtable explored how best to capture the sharing of this knowledge through the creation of stopping places that could be highlighted.
I am honoured to be a contributor in this process for over a decade. Choosing to hold the responsibility of Ancestral Knowledge Keeper, who is deeply committed to deconstructing the invisibility of Indigenous knowledge and truths. I believe the creation of the Credit Valley Trail is a major contribution to education and relationship building with all Canadians.”
Crane Gathering Space
In 2024, CVC completed the first key site, the Crane Gathering Space, located at the northern terminus of the Credit Valley Trail in Orangeville at the headwaters of the Credit River. The Crane Gathering Space will help nurture connections between Indigenous
01/ Rendering of the west gateway to the Jim Tovey Lakeview Conservation Area.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Credit Valley Conservation and associates
02/ Rendering of the Giigoonh Doodem Gateway Arbour Entrance.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Credit Valley Conservation and associates
03/ Rendering of the Giigoonh Doodem Sacred Fire Gathering Space.
IMAGE/ ourtesy of Credit Valley Conservation and associates
04/ Crane Gathering Space sacred fire and seating.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Credit Valley Conservation and associates
and non-Indigenous communities, provide a space for ceremonial practices and unique recreational experiences. It will also serve as a publicly accessible site available for hosting innovative educational opportunities. The inspiration for this space comes from the Ajijaak Doodem (Crane Clan).
Grandmother Wheatley explains:
“There are many stopping points along this trail that will highlight significant historical practices, values, and teachings. It has been super exciting to see the completion of the Crane Gathering Space come to life at the Island Lake Conservation Area in Orangeville. This space is incredibly beautiful and inspiring. It was designed with the hope of the return of cranes to a lake that has missed them but now has a new welcome gathering space in place.
The importance of ceremony in this space is one I personally take seriously and have committed to conducting Full Moon Ceremonies for all women monthly since February of 2025. With prayers, ceremonial offerings, and songs, women have the opportunity to heal, recharge, and connect holistically. It has an amazing bridge out to the water embracing natural curiosity connected to a unique circle that was inspired by the nests of the cranes themselves. The amazing fire pit enables Indigenous ceremonial practices of offerings while supporting ceremonies themselves.
Walking the road of reconciliation together is an important commitment that all Canadians are encouraged to embrace through the Truth and Reconciliation Commissions (TRC) final report. The Crane Gathering Space accommodates this walk of reconciliation meaningfully.”
Giigoonh Doodem
CVC is currently in the planning stages for the Giigoonh Doodem (Fish Clan) site, located in the upper watershed along the Credit Valley Trail in Caledon, guided by members of the Mississaugas of the Credit First Nation Department of Consultation and Accommodation, the Indigenous Roundtable, and project consultants for Trophic Design. This will be the second of the seven key sites along the trail.
From a statement from Trophic Design:
“The Giigoonh Doodem site is rooted in Anishinaabeg teachings of the Law of the Fish, and reflective of Giigoonh Doodem’s traditional role as teachers, mediators, and transmitters and keepers of knowledge within Anishinaabe society. Guided by community voices, our Elders’ Council and traditional teachings, the project honours the deep relationship between the Michi Saagiig Anishinaabeg (Mississauga Nation) and Missinihe Ziibi (the Credit River). The theme of land and relationship extends beyond the Giigoonh Doodem site, to a series of Doodemag sites along the river, each reflective of a Sacred Council Fire represented in the Sacred Council Fire Wampum Belt. This Sacred Wampum Belt is itself a historic document outlining governance of Michi Saagiig Anishinnaabeg Territory. By centring these important relationships of land, people, knowledge, and place, we aimed to create a space where visitors can reflect on their own relationship with Missinihe Zibi (the Credit River), Giigoonyag (Fish), and Shkaakmiikwe (Mother Earth); through the lens of Indigenous perspectives, to arrive at shared understanding.”
Grandmother Wheatley continues:
“It is just the beginning as the other sites are developed along the Credit River from Orangeville down to the mouth of the Port Credit River, each holding unique educational and truthful representations of Indigenous values. Through these sites, I am hoping that visitors will renew their commitment to protection of the environment, revive respect for all Indigenous Sovereign Nations, and honour the true history of this land.
I encourage readers to embrace the seven sacred teachings of Truth, Respect, Honesty, Bravery, Wisdom, Humility, and Love as moral guiding principles when visiting any of the sites. I support the Rights of Indigenous Peoples Report and will continue to champion the TRC report by enacting ceremonies at every site as they come to life.
In my mind I am hoping you the reader will do the same!”
Jim Tovey Lakeview Conservation Area
At the southern end of the watershed, CVC is working with partners Region of Peel, Toronto and Region Conservation Authority, and the Cities of Mississauga and Toronto to transform a degraded section of the Mississauga shoreline into a thriving 26-hectare waterfront conservation area that will connect people and wildlife back to nature.
CVC and the design team at Brook McIlroy have worked closely with Mississaugas of the Credit Department of Consultation and Accommodation, and other urban Indigenous groups in Mississauga, to integrate Indigenous placekeeping throughout the new Jim Tovey Lakeview Conservation Area, including a teaching amphitheatre and sacred fire, interpretive and engagement opportunities, themed patterning, and harvesting of ceremonial plants and medicines.
From the Brook McIlroy team:
“In close collaboration with CVC, the design team was thrilled to have meaningful and deliberate conversations with Indigenous nations, individuals, and knowledge holders. The concepts that emerged from these conversations—like the form/movement of an eagle informing the amphitheatre and the form/construction of drums informing the gateway structure—were shaped iteratively through open and communal discussions around land, water, history, and desires for re-storing/re-placing.
It was exciting to have Indigenous voices on many sides of the design process. A collective commitment and willingness to listen, understand, and advocate for the beings we share space with—both human and non-human—provided our team with an enormous amount of energy and inspiration. This driving ethos was succinctly summarized by one of our collaborators, Cathie Jamieson of MCFN, as: “We don’t make place, place makes us.”
Jim Tovey Lakeview Conservation Area is anticipated to open to the public in May 2026.
05/ Crane Gathering Space lattice wing.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Credit Valley Conservation and associates
06/ The Serson Creek bridge, Jim Tovey Lakeview Conservation Area.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Credit Valley Conservation and associates
07/ Rendering of the amphitheatre, Jim Tovey Lakeview Conservation Area.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Credit Valley Conservation and associates
08/ Plan map of the Jim Tovey Lakeview Conservation Area.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Credit Valley Conservation and associates
BIOS/ ANISHINAABE TRADITIONAL GRANDMOTHER KIM WHEATLEY IS OJIBWAY, POTAWATOMI, AND CARIBBEAN IN ANCESTRY. SHE IS A BAND MEMBER OF SHAWANAGA FIRST NATION LOCATED ON THE SHORES OF GEORGIAN BAY IN ROBINSON HURON TREATY TERRITORIES AND IS TURTLE CLAN. SHE CARRIES THE SPIRIT NAME “HEAD OR LEADER OF THE FIREFLOWER” AND HAS WORKED FOR OVER THREE DECADES WITH INDIGENOUS AND NON INDIGENOUS COMMUNITIES ACROSS CANADA.
SCOTT CAFARELLA, OALA, IS A LANDSCAPE ARCHITECT AT CREDIT VALLEY CONSERVATION IN MISSISSAUGA, ON.
Generational Memory and the Landscape of Sudbury
TEXT BY EMILEY SWITZER-MARTELL
01/ Satellite Imagery of Highway 17, Sudbury, 2023. Regreening efforts concentrated along site corridors.
IMAGE/ Google Earth Imagery. Accessed January 11, 2024
02/ Emiley on the Swing at Copper Cliff Public School.
IMAGE/ Lonny Switzer, 2002
03/ Lonny and a friend staining the back deck.
IMAGE/ Yvette Switzer, 1997
My family’s roots in Sudbury run deep— three generations shaped by its harsh rock, transformative regreening, and persistent spirit. Growing up, I took the long drive up to Sudbury more times than I can count. Every time we passed under the underpass and saw the Superstack looming in the distance, we knew we had arrived. For me, that stack became a kind of monument—a marker that we were back in a place with deep roots for my family.
My grandmother used to say, “We bought this house because of the view.” When they first moved into their neighbourhood on top of the hill, there was barely any soil, just rock. “Your dad planted those pines,” she said, pointing to the backyard, “and the rest of it grew in. Now it’s all just bush.”
Those pine trees are now the reason the old retaining wall in our backyard is still standing. The other side is held up by dumping years of driveway sand and yard waste; over time, that side built up nicely. It’s also where our pet cemetery is—because frankly, it’s the only place you can dig in all that rock. That backyard wall, held up by trees my grandmother never particularly liked, is a kind of accidental monument: a reminder that even unintentional choices can become anchors. In many ways, this mix of practicality, adaptation, and memory reflects how Sudburians have always interacted with the land.
My family came from Ottawa, Saskatchewan, and Nova Scotia, eventually landing in Sudbury during trans-Canada road trips in the 1960s, captured by the promise of work in the mines. I now live in Toronto, practicing as a landscape architectural intern, but Sudbury remains home in the emotional sense.
My grandfather spent decades working at INCO, one of the major mining companies, while also owning and operating three apartment complexes on the side. My grandmother raised two boys and ran those apartments alongside him. They were always working. I don’t remember a single dinner without the phone ringing. Even vacations were hard-earned and often spent camping or on the road—anywhere but home. My father grew up watching that relentless work ethic. He belonged to the generation that began to question the cost of ambition. Born in 1977—one year after the regreening project formally began—he was immersed in the planting efforts and the community’s quiet transformation.
What Was Lost
Before the environmental degradation, early Canadian Pacific Railway survey notes described the area as a balance of swamp, bedrock, and forest. That all changed with the discovery of metal-rich rock and the mining of nickel and copper that followed. Trees were cut down to fuel vast roast beds of ore, stripping the landscape. Then sulphur from smelters poured into the air, resulting in severe acid rain that decimated forests, ruined paint jobs on cars, and rendered the soil nearly sterile. Many lakes were too acidic for life. What remained was bare black rockstained landscape, like a moonscape.
Older generations remember it vividly: bare hills stretching out endlessly, not a tree in sight. You could throw a bag of soil on your yard, and it would just wash away. My grandma recalls how they had to lay down clay to get anything to stick. In many ways, the physical devastation mirrored the psychological one. The land was harsh, and people adapted. My grandparents didn’t talk about it as a tragedy, it was just the way things were.
04/ Copper Cliff Town Site.
IMAGE/ Sudbury District Branch Ontario Ancestors, 1903. https://www. coppercliffnotes.com/historical-photos1. html. Accessed May 5th 2025
05/ MLA Thesis: Regreening Map and Graphic Section, 2023. Evolution of Sudbury’s Regreening Program from economic resiliency and environmental repair to community-mended landscape. GIS Data and digital drawing. April 2023.
IMAGE/ Emiley Switzer
Today, we see a very different Sudbury, but that transformation came from a long process—one that was communal, deliberate, and deeply tied to place.
The Regreening Movement
The regreening of Sudbury began in the 1970s, when the scale of environmental damage could no longer be ignored. By then, Sudbury had earned a reputation as a moonscape—a newspaper even framed a NASA research visit to its ancient meteorite site as “moon landing practice.” That global attention sparked a shift. What followed was both scientific inquiry and collective action.
After the Superstack helped disperse emissions, the City launched a bold regreening program: mixing lime into sterile soil, planting trees en masse, and transplanting forest floors like skin grafts from unaffected areas. The focus often fell on high-traffic corridors—landscape as both ecological recovery and visual reassurance. But to plant a tree in scorched soil was not just environmental, it was a quiet wager on the future that life could return even where it had been erased. In that sense, regreening was an act of hope as much as science.
Yet the seed for this civic pride had already been sown by earlier generations. INCO once ran lawn competitions as far back as 1936, awarding prizes to residents who nurtured their yards despite the odds. When the City reimagined its image, it drew from this ethic, scaling it up through schools, scientists, and volunteers. My dad remembers his elementary school’s many tree-planting trips.
Organizations like VETAC and Science North supported this transformation through public education and outreach.
A permanent exhibit at Science North still showcases literal forest floor transplants in their parking lot—making regreening tangible for every visitor.
Today, that work continues. Sudbury is developing an urban forest management plan, expanding biodiversity planting, creating new parks, and offering incentives for planting on private land. Community planting events remain a hands-on act of stewardship. This isn’t restoration as a single project, it’s an evolving cultural practice.
Sudbury’s regreening is often held up as a model of environmental remediation. But it’s more than that. It’s an intergenerational act of care, memory, and identity. It is placekeeping.
Growing Up with the Land
As a child, I didn’t fully grasp the difference between Bell Park, roadside blueberry patches, or Killarney Provincial Park. They looked similar, but felt different: soft moss underfoot in one area, crunchy and exposed roots in another. I didn’t know then, but I was literally walking across different stages of ecological succession.
Over time, I began to notice rows of singlespecies evergreens planted early in the regreening project, exposed root systems in my neighbourhood signifying shallow soils, swaths of pioneer birches still struggling in thin patches of earth. These were signs, not just of ecological processes, but of care.
My grandparents saw Sudbury as a land of opportunity. The devastation was part of that—they made homes in it, worked in the mines, and raised families. For them, hardship was normalized. My father’s generation inherited that damage and felt a need to fix it.
Now, as a landscape architectural intern, I try to carry both of those legacies: the determination to endure and the responsibility to repair. What I plant or preserve is informed by their stories, and by the need to pass something better forward.
Reading the Land
In my current practice, I work with site history, oral narrative, and visual evidence—tools I first developed while researching with Jane Wolff and Danijela Puric-Mladenovic. My thesis centred on what I called the three revealing lenses: oral history, aerial photography, and socioeconomics. Paired with ample site visits, this method remains central to how I read land today.
To me, placekeeping means honouring what exists, not erasing it. A patch of moss, a misplaced pine, even a backyard wall held up by disliked trees: these are choices, voices, and lived realities. When I inventory a site, I’m not just listing features, I’m listening to what the land and its people have endured, adapted to, and shaped.
That retaining wall behind my grandparents’ house still stands, not because it was perfectly designed, but because it was tended to—patched with leftovers, supported by pine roots, held up with care. In my work, I try to see the landscape this way: not as something to fix, but as something to understand.
Sudbury has taught me that small acts can become symbolic and transformative. What seemed like desolation became the foundation for a new cycle, one that invited people back into a relationship with the land. Like a forest after a natural disturbance, Sudbury’s landscape has developed new forms of resiliency and intimacy.
I think future generations will inherit a land they can’t quite explain. It’s not pristine Muskoka, yet it’s no longer a scarred landscape. And with the removal of the Superstack, it really removes the mining and regreening history from the conversation, at least on the surface.
But that’s what makes placekeeping essential: it’s not about completing a project, it’s about continuity, remembering, caring, and taking shared responsibility. By uncovering a place’s past and understanding how it came to be, we begin to see it more clearly. And without that understanding, we risk losing the very knowledge that teaches us how to care for it—now and in the future.
I think of my younger cousins walking those same trails, not knowing how bare they once were. Without the Superstack as a landmark, they might never guess the land’s industrial past, or the collective effort it took to heal it. I hope they find beauty, but also sense the quiet weight beneath their feet. That they learn to see regreened soil not as natural, but inherited, mended, and meaningful. My hope is they and their generation will carry the story forward—just as my generation inherited it—not by repeating it, but by adding to it. Because a green Sudbury is not a finished place. It’s a living landscape, asking each new generation: What will you care for? What will you keep?
BIOS/ EMILEY SWITZER-MARTELL IS A JUNIOR DESIGNER AT JRS AND A U OF T MLA GRADUATE. SHE EXPLORES MEMORY AND PLACE THROUGH STORIES SHARED OVER TEA AND TIME SPENT IMMERSED IN NATURAL LANDSCAPES AS SPACES FOR REST AND WONDER.
2025 OALA AWARDS
Congratulations to all those honoured with the 2025 OALA Recognition Awards, and special thank you to the OALA Honours, Awards and Protocol Committee (HAP) members: Steve Barhnart (Chair), Jane Welsh, James Melvin, Nelson Edwards, Ashley Hosker, and Stefan Fediuk. The awards were presented on June 5th at the OALA Awards Ceremony.
THE
CARL
BORGSTROM AWARD FOR SERVICE TO THE ENVIRONMENT
employment centres. He has also played a role in the renewal of the Parliamentary precinct. Internationally, Ian is recognized for his work on eco park projects in Jubail, Saudi Arabia, as well as for environmental masterplans for projects in Shanghai and South Korea.
OALA AWARDS
This award recognizes an OALA member who practices in an environmentally, socially, culturally, and economically sensitive and sustainable manner. Ecologically sound and sustainable design does not preclude aesthetically beautiful work, nor vice versa, and this award is intended to recognize such efforts.
Ian Dance, OALA
For over 45 years, Ian Dance has profoundly advanced landscape architecture through his visionary leadership and environmentally conscious design. Throughout this career, he has demonstrated a deep commitment to sustainability, ecological restoration, and the integration of cultural and natural systems. A Metropolitan Toronto University graduate and CSLA Fellow, Ian has led award-winning projects that reflect his ability to balance environmental sensitivity with functional, beautiful public spaces.
Ian’s commitment to placemaking, sustainability, and design innovation is matched by his mentorship and advocacy within the profession. A long-time OALA contributor, he continues to inspire through teaching, writing, and professional service.
Ian’s legacy lies not just in his projects, but in his unwavering commitment to ecological integrity and creating landscapes that enrich communities and the environment alike.
OALA AWARD FOR COMMUNITY SERVICE TO THE ENVIRONMENT
This public outreach award recognizes and encourages special or unusual contributions for culturally sensitive and inclusive, sustainable design solutions leading to the improvement of environmental health, community livability, and human interaction in the environment. The award may also recognize work that contributes to addressing climate change and supports nature-based solutions.
Ian's transformative projects span multiple locations, including Richmond Hill, where he worked on the Lake Wilcox Waterfront Park and the Mill Pond Park Masterplan. In Mississauga, he contributed to the Port Credit River West Parks. His work also includes the Confederation Landing Park in Prince Edward Island and notable spaces in Toronto, such as the Bay Adelaide Centre plaza, Humber Bay Shores waterfront, and new parkland for Hotel X, located within the Exhibition lands. In Ottawa, Ian has led various projects and planning studies, including a revitalization vision for the Confederation Heights Campus and the Les Terrasses de la Chaudière complex, which houses Canada’s largest federal
Canadensis Botanical Garden Society Canadensis Botanical Garden Society is a volunteer-led organization dedicated to inclusive and sustainable design, environmental stewardship, and community engagement.
Currently, Ottawa is the only G20 capital that does not have a dedicated botanical
garden. However, the Society has a plan to change this with the development of “Canadensis: The Garden of Canada / le Jardin du Canada.” This landmark botanical garden will be located within Ottawa’s Central Experimental Farm, adjacent to the UNESCO World Heritage Rideau Canal on the site originally dedicated by the federal government some 135 years ago. The CSLA award-winning master plan will showcase Canadian landscapes and native plants while serving as a centre for research and learning on plant science, sustainable horticulture, and climate adaptation.
For over 20 years, the Society has engaged the community through guided tours, seasonal festivals, workshops and their annual Beyond the Edge: Artists’ Gardens land art exhibition, exploring the notion of a rural natural oasis in the heart of an urban centre, all the while working towards the eventual creation of a long-awaited botanical garden in Canada’s capital.
OALA RESEARCH & INNOVATION AWARD
This award recognizes scholarly activities and/ or the development of innovative practices and the publication and dissemination of this knowledge for the betterment of the profession and the greater good. This may include: academic papers, research, publications, books, e-applications, or public presentations which contribute to the knowledge base that furthers the advancement of the art, science, and practice of landscape architecture.
architecture, pioneering the integration of stormwater management with landscape architectural planning and design.
His work includes the groundbreaking landscape design for Scarden Park in Scarborough, Ontario. This project not only managed stormwater efficiently but also created an aesthetically pleasing and functional public space. He cleverly incorporated a stormwater pond into the park's design, integrating an amphitheatre, jogging trails, and a baseball diamond. This pioneering project, the first of its kind in Canada, received the CSLA National Honour Design Award and inspired future developments in sustainable landscape architecture.
Patrick continued his innovative work on stormwater management, completing multiple parks in Scarborough and other municipalities. His innovative approach has also been successfully to the planning and design of Dupont Head Office in Mississauga and the OPP Headquarter in Orillia, Ontario. His expertise extended internationally, notably with the Chenggong New Town Master Planning project in Kunming, China. This initiative earned international recognition, winning the International Planning Competition and receiving widespread publication.
Beyond his design work, Patrick is a dedicated mentor and educator, sharing his extensive research at OALA, CSLA, and international conferences. He has lectured at prestigious institutions, including the University of Guelph, the University of Toronto, and Beijing Forestry University.
This award acknowledges excellence in works by an OALA member and their exemplary overall body of professional work and accomplishments. Singling out specific projects to draw attention to a body of work which demonstrates outstanding professional accomplishment, this award promotes awareness of the recipient’s landscape architectural works and achievements among landscape architects, allied professionals, potential clients, and the public.
Jerrold Corush, OALA
Jerrold Corush, founder and lead principal of CSW Landscape Architects, has been shaping Ottawa’s landscape for over 50 years. A graduate of the University of Illinois, he played a significant role in establishing the Ontario Association of Landscape Architects while serving on its Council in the 1970s.
A true innovator, Jerrold led CSW to become one of the first Landscape Architectural
Patrick Li, OALA
Patrick Li, Principal of EDA Collaborative Inc., is a trailblazer in landscape
OALA PINNACLE AWARD FOR LANDSCAPE ARCHITECTURAL EXCELLENCE
firms in Ottawa to embrace automation, introducing computer technology as a design tool. In the years that followed, Jerrold further advanced the industry by championing the use of 3D modelling software to enhance communication with clients and the public.
In the 1980s, Jerrold led the Region of Ottawa-Carleton’s Transitway project, implementing green corridors filled with thousands of trees along Ottawa's transitways. This initiative paved the way for urban reforestation, now regarded as standard practice.
Several landmark projects that have shaped Ottawa’s downtown core are a direct result of Jerrold’s collaboration with his CSW team, along with leading architectural and engineering firms across the city. Notable projects include the Royal Canadian Mint, the U.S. Embassy, the Kanata Research Park and Brookstreet Hotel, Arts Court Courtyard, and the Rideau Canal Esplanade.
Beyond his design contributions, Jerrold has mentored generations of landscape architects, many of whom have gone on to lead their own firms. His legacy is not just in the spaces he has helped create but in the professionals he has inspired.
Jerrold's passion for the profession and his unique ability to promote the role of landscape architects have helped shape Ottawa into the green and vibrant city it is today.
THE JACK COPELAND AWARD FOR INTERN LEADERSHIP AND CONTRIBUTION
Jack Copeland was an enthusiastic advocate for Intern members. This award recognizes the outstanding leadership and contribution of an intern for going above and beyond to assist fellow interns, including being an intern representative on OALA Council.
Steven Shuttle, OALA
As an Intern Councillor, Steven Shuttle has demonstrated exceptional dedication to supporting the professional growth of his peers. To assist Intern members in preparing for the Landscape Architect Registration Examination (LARE), he organizes both online and in-person exam preparation sessions, offering guidance and resources for those pursuing full membership. As a guest speaker at the University of Guelph, he shares his experiences and insights on the path to licensure, mentoring emerging professionals as they navigate their careers.
In addition, Steven is an active member of OALA's Practice Legislation Committee, where he plays an important role in advocating for the profession. By engaging with MPPs and key stakeholders, he works to advance the OALA Practice Act and strengthen the future of the profession.
04/ McNabb Park, Ottawa.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Jerrold Corush
05/ Brookstreet, Ottawa.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Jerrold Corush
01/ Jewish Memorial Gardens, Ottawa.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Jerrold Corush
02-03/ Rideau Canal Esplanade, Ottawa.
Courtesy of Jerrold Corush
Beyond his contributions to OALA, Steven is deeply committed to community engagement. As a Director with Friends of Allan Gardens, he actively supports programming, engagement initiatives, and stewardship efforts that enhance this cherished public space. His volunteerism reflects a passion for fostering vibrant, sustainable, and accessible landscapes for all.
THE DAVID ERB MEMORIAL AWARD
David Erb was an outstanding volunteer in furthering the goals of the OALA. This award is a prestigious way to acknowledge an OALA member whose outstanding volunteerism over the years has contributed to furthering the goals and strategic plans of the OALA, as well as making a real difference to the OALA and its members.
Mark Hillmer, OALA
For years, Mark Hillmer, a landscape architect at Arcadis, has exhibited his passion for advancing the landscape architecture profession through his extensive volunteer work. As Chair of the Ground Editorial Board, he has played a
pivotal role in ensuring the publication serves as an insightful and high-quality resource for OALA members.
In addition to his contributions to Ground, Mark has served on OALA Council and several committees, including the Marketing Committee, Awards Committee, the Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (DEI) Task Force and the Justice, Equity, Diversity and Inclusion (J.E.D.I.) Committee. Through these roles, he has demonstrated a strong commitment to fostering inclusivity and innovation.
Mark’s dedication has not only strengthened the OALA but has also helped shape the future of landscape architecture by championing equity, diversity, and mentorship within the profession.
In 2016, Patrick joined the NCC’s LongRange Planning team, developing strategic plans for the Ottawa River’s waterfronts. He later led the 2020 Capital Pathway Strategic Plan, improving accessibility, connectivity, and environmental integration. In 2023, he updated the NCC Capital Design Guidelines, providing a clear and consistent understanding of design excellence. Currently, he is leading the renewal of the Core Area Sector Plan, a critical initiative that will shape the heart of the Capital for decades to come.
Patrick’s contributions have had a lasting impact on the National Capital Region. Beyond his work at the NCC, he is deeply engaged in advancing the profession, mentoring students and professionals and serving as board member for the Council for Canadian Urbanism.
This award acknowledges the outstanding leadership of a member of the profession in public service who promotes and enhances landscape architecture by working for improved understanding and appreciation of the work of landscape architects in both public and private practice. The award may be given to an individual in recognition of a specific project, for a body of work, or for exemplary leadership or advocacy.
Patrick Bunting, OALA
Patrick Bunting is a Senior Planner, Urban Design at the National Capital Commission (NCC). He first joined the NCC’s Design and Construction branch in 2013, playing a key role in the design of significant public spaces such as Pindigen Park and the Rideau Hall Forecourt.
Honourary members are those who have contributed significantly to advancing the course of landscape architecture in Ontario.
There are three recipients this year.
Diana Beresford–Kroeger
Diana Beresford–Kroeger is a worldrenowned author, botanist, medical biochemist, and polymath with a remarkable ability to inspire an understanding and appreciation of the scientific complexities of nature and our connection to it.
With her deep understanding of natural systems and forests, Diana communicates
OALA PUBLIC PRACTICE AWARD
OALA HONOURARY MEMBER AWARD
the beauty and healing powers of nature, fostering a particular affinity with landscape architects and environmental advocates.
She has written seven books, including Our Green Heart, To Speak for the Trees, and The Global Forest, bringing her insights to readers worldwide.
As a sought-after speaker, Diana has given lectures across Canada, the United States, Europe, and Japan, including a keynote speech at the 2018 OALA conference. Diana makes her home in Eastern Ontario, where she nurtures an arboretum with trees collected from all over the world.
Michael McClelland Michael McClelland is a founding principal of ERA Architects, co-founder and chair of the Friends of Allan Gardens, and a registered architect who has specialized in heritage conservation, heritage planning, and urban design for over 30 years.
Michael has collaborated with many landscape architects on numerous notable projects across Ontario, including Toronto’s Evergreen Brick Works, Distillery District, Queen’s Park North, and Ottawa’s Kìwekì Point, to name a few. His contributions to landscape architecture extend through writing, speaking, and serving organizations including The Cultural Landscape Foundation’s Stewardship Council.
Dedicated to community stewardship, Michael advocates for the preservation of Toronto’s cultural spaces. He founded Art=Waterfront, a coalition that envisions a Waterfront Cultural Corridor across the
city. As chair of Friends of Allan Gardens (FOAG), he has led efforts to revitalize the park, producing key reports and fostering partnerships. FOAG have received multiple awards for their impact, including the 2024 OALA Community Service to the Environment Award.
David Stonehouse
David Stonehouse is an urban planner and a Member of the Canadian Institute of Planners, with over three decades of experience in shaping urban landscapes. His career has been dedicated to environmental restoration, park development, and urban revitalization, working closely
with landscape architects to advance the profession across Canada.
He began his career with the City of Toronto in 1990 as Coordinator of the Task Force to Bring Back the Don, where he organized dozens of community planting events each spring and fall. From 2002 to 2013, David joined Evergreen Canada, where he played a pivotal role in creating the Evergreen Brick Works, an award-winning model of adaptive reuse and sustainability that transformed a historic brick factory.
Since 2014, David has served as Director of the Waterfront Secretariat, working to transform 800 hectares of brownfields land along Toronto's waterfront into diverse, accessible, and sustainable mixed-use communities and vibrant public spaces.
His leadership has shaped key projects such as Port Lands Flood Protection, The Bentway, Quayside, and the forthcoming Biidaasige Park.
David’s unwavering commitment to nature and the public realm has left an indelible mark on Toronto’s urban fabric, setting a precedent for cities worldwide.
06/ Friends of Allan Gardens volunteers.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Steven Shuttle
07/ Evergreen Brickworks, Toronto.
IMAGE/ Tom Arban, courtesy of Michael McClelland
08/ Distillery District, Toronto.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Michael McClelland
Notes: A Miscellany of News and Events
events
Did you know there's a river buried under Church Street in Toronto? You can find out more through “Rumours of a River—an exploration of Lost Moss Park Creek.”
Join Lost Rivers and the OALA J.E.D.I. Committee for a guided neighbourhood walking tour + coffee conversation while exploring historic houses and bringing lost Moss Park Creek to life through stories and rumours of wet basements, soaked core samples, sinkholes, sinking houses and houses built above street level to stay above the muddy mire of the former creek path. The event is sponsored by ERA Architects.
The downtown Toronto tour takes place on Friday, September 26 from 2 p.m to 6 p.m. Registration (members only) is $40.
If you'd like to sign up for the walking tour, visit: oala.ca/events
washrooms
The Toronto Public Space Committee put out a challenge to designers all over the world to come up with compelling ideas for public washrooms. Toronto is far behind many cities in terms of access and maintenance to these vital facilities, and the “TO the Loo! Toronto Toilet Design Challenge” was conceived of to bring attention to this issue, and perhaps inspire local government get on board.
The winning design, awarded by a panel of judges, is “Mycomorph: Modular Scalar Washrooms for Toronto's Green Spaces” by Petra Matar and Alea Reid of Design Partners in Architecture and Interiors. The idea is to have prefabricated concrete, mushroom-inspired pods of varying sizes, which can be shipped on flatbed trucks to wherever they're needed. Coloured epoxy would make cleaning a matter of hosing the pods down. Some pods would include rarely provided amenities such as showers. Green roofs would cover the assembled units, combating the urban heat island effect, and capturing rain water for future use.
You can learn more about the TO the Loo initiative at publicspace.ca/competition
01-03/ Renderings for the winning “TO the Loo!” competition design.
IMAGES/ Petra Matar and Alea Reid, courtesy of the Toronto Public Space Committee
articles
While Toronto proudly proclaims itself the “City Within a Park,” due to its boasting over 1,500 public greenspaces, many have taken note of a lack of maintenance and resilient design and policy choices for these essential urban oases—most notably, Toronto's Auditor General.
To address this, past OALA Award winner and University of Toronto Associate Professor of Landscape Architecture and Urbanism Fadi Masoud has written an eight-point plan for improving these parks entitled “Toronto Parks Need a Reboot” on Spacing Magazine's blog.
The recommendations include policy changes at City Hall such as placing responsibility for parks and recreation under the jurisdiction of “Development and Growth Services,” establishing best practices for maintenance found in other cities such as snow-guards to protect plants, utilizing Indigenous placekeeping knowledge and local stewardship initiatives, and even finding new ways to monetize and fund parks.
It's a comprehensive read OALA members will doubtless find intriguing. And you can read it at spacing.ca.
parks
Readers will likely be familiar with the massive redevelopment of Toronto's Port Lands: an interdisciplinary and generational project involving the work of many OALA members and adjacent professionals. But a new milestone was reached this summer with the partial opening of the new Biidaasige Park.
The name is Anishinaabemowin for “sunlight shining towards us,” in keeping with Indigenous placekeeping initiatives in the City. Located near Cherry Street on the new island of Ookwemin Minising on the newly re-channeled Don River. It's part of the broader project of rebuilding the once-blighted post-industrial waterfront, and providing crucial flood protection. At 50-acres it is one of the largest new parks in the Toronto. It boasts recreation, food, and active transportation. The design of the park was led by landscape architects from Michael van Valkenburgh Associates.
It's already gained favourable reviews by news outlets like TVO, as well as by eager first-time visitors. If you're able to, put on some sunscreen, hop on a bike or walk down to the old Port Lands and take in this new landscape.
04-07/ The new Biidaasige Park in Toronto's Portlands.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of the City of Toronto
books
Ontario municipalities are governed by a complex, interwoven, and sometimes confounding array of bylaws, rules, and traditions. Many of these rules are meant to keep us safe, happy, and proud of the place we call home.
However, some of these rules have been accused of being an overreach. Some even prevent acknowledged best practices from being applied in our cities and towns. Many are simply a matter of aesthetic, and can represent outdated preferences and a colonial mindset.
The new book Messy Cities: why we can't plan everything is a series of essays meant to challenge some of these rules and traditions. It's published by Coach House Books, and edited by Spacing Magazine contributors Dylan Reid and John Lorinc, urban designer Zahra Ebrahim, and CivicAction CEO Leslie Woo.
The book touches on a wide variety of subjects that will be interesting to OALA members, from contributors such as Toronto Chief Planner Jason Thorne, PlazaPOPS founders Brendan Stewart and Daniel Rotsztain, Nina-Marie Lister, and Ground's founding editor Lorraine Johnson (to name a few).
Messy Cities is available now.
in memoriam
Tyler James Main, OALA, CSLA
The OALA is saddened to announce the passing of Tyler James Main on December 22nd, 2024.
Below we share the obituary prepared by his family.
It is with extremely heavy hearts that we announce the passing of Tyler James Main on Sunday, December 22nd, 2024, in Seguin, Ontario. Tyler is a very loved son, brother, grandson, fiancé, nephew, cousin, son-in-law to be, and a friend to many. Tyler is survived by his parents, Shelley and Doug, sister, Jennifer, Grandma, Teresa, and his fiancé Jayde.
Tyler was born in Switzerland and was raised in St. Albert, Alberta and Whitby, Ontario. He graduated from the University of Guelph in 2017 with a degree in Landscape Architecture and has successfully managed his own Landscape Architecture firm (HKLA) in Pickering, Ontario since 2020.
Tyler was fearless to a fault and lived life large over his 30 years. He always sought adventure and travel with family and friends. Tyler loved the outdoors, he enjoyed skiing, camping, water sports, golf, campfires, and having a pint with friends.
Tyler was recently engaged to his fiancé, Jayde, with the plan to wed in July 2025. Many aspects of their forever life together had already begun including cottaging on Horseshoe Lake.
While Tyler left us much too early, he would encourage us all to continue learning, growing and experiencing life. He will never be forgotten and always be in our hearts.
In lieu of flowers, plant a tree in Tyler’s memory at “A Living Tribute Canada”.
new full members
Ontario Association of Landscape Architects is proud to recognize and welcome the following new members to the Association:
Nicole Abernethy
Suhanija Arullsothy *
Stuart Chan
Jianing Chee
Grace Christie
Jasper Flores
Gabriela Gallo
Nathaniel Grant *
Sally Hislop *
Alyson Kennedy * Winona Khuu
John Legault Yusong (Kevin) Li Eric Lucas
Lauren Mac Isaac
Joe Mazzetti *
Luke Mollet
Rebecca Robinson
Valerie Rouette
Maryam Sabzevari *
Sara Shirley
Alicia Sword
Yuxin Ti *
Richard Valenzona *
Anna Varga-Papp
Alexandra Walker * Scott Watson
Asterisk (*) denotes Full Members without the use of professional seal.
MODULAR SYSTEM
Connect with a Unilock Representative to learn more about U-Cara®.
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The U-Cara® Modular System offers a lightweight and efficient solution for constructing durable, visually striking freestanding vertical elements. Its versatility shines through both in its broad range of applications such as grill islands, outdoor kitchens, and fireplaces, as well as in its customizable aesthetics, thanks to the interchangeable U-Cara Fascia Panels.
Available in many of the same finishes and colours as Unilock® pavers and slabs, the U-Cara fascia panels make it easy to carry a cohesive design from flatwork to verticals.
Project: Jr Green Lofts, Covington, KY // Designer: Bayer Becker // Product: U-Cara® Modular System with Premier Fascia Panels in Dark Charcoal & Premier 24 x 24” in Silver Grey
It isn’t just about access. It’s about making a difference in the lives of others. That’s why we design inclusive play spaces for EVERYONE. We recognize no two people are alike in their skillset, disability or not. We strive to think about inclusion in relation to the entire play space, ensuring there are various levels of challenging activities to keep everyone engaged and excited!
playworld.com/inclusion
info@nwps.ca
Reeves Community Complex, City of Woodstock: A Showcase of Canadian Manufacturing Excellence
The Reeves Community Complex in Woodstock stands as a testament to Canadian workmanship, innovation, and collaboration. Reeves park was constructed utilizing products supplied by three Canadian manufacturers. The park embodies a commitment to quality, creativity, and communityfocused design.
By sourcing materials and expertise from within Canada, the project not only supports Canadian manufacturing but also ensures the highest standards in durability and performance. The result is an impressive park that serves as a hub for recreation, engagement, and connection within the community.
This project highlights the capability of our Canadian manufacturers to create durable, high-quality public spaces that enhance communities across Ontario.
for more information, contact Openspace Solutions today: janet@openspacesolutions.com | 519.580.7053
Why Select
Seminars
There are a number of cellphone apps available to identify flora and fauna while exploring the outdoors. I've tried a few myself, with mixed success (I wouldn't trust my phone to tell me which mushrooms to eat). But only one app comes endorsed by Ontario Parks. It's called iNaturalist: a free app, run by a non-profit which, according to Scientific American, boasted over 3.7 million users as of June.
“We generally encourage green time over screen time,” an Ontario Parks blog post says, “however there’s one app we believe every visitor should have on their phone.”
Users can snap a picture of the wildlife they encounter, and the app will try to identify it. That's great for the curious explorer, but Ontario Parks and other similar organizations around the world can access these images, along with data about when and where they were taken, and use them to collect metrics about biodiversity across the parks network.
The Ontario Parks blog says 17,000 people have contributed over 850,000 records to date. You can track which species have been identified in which Ontario provincial park by going to inaturalits.ca/projects/ontario-parks
why Ontario Parks is encouraging us to use our phones
01/ A spotted turtle.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Ontario Parks
02-03/ Ontario Parks workers demonstrating the iNaturalist app.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Ontario Parks
04/ A black-throated Green Warbler.
IMAGE/ Courtesy of Ontario Parks
05/ The iNaturalist app will help identify any plants and animals you take an image of.
