Again there is a japanese word for a practice that is beneficial yet uncommon. Shinrin-yoku is the direct translation for a forest bath. In Quebec, there isn’t quite an expression or even a conscious moment for going to nature as a means for resourcing yourself. However, nature is omni-present and even a daily part of life.
The renouned architect Pierre Thibault wrote a book entitled: Et si la beauté rendait heureux. (And if beauty makes people happy.) In it he tells the story of how nature is his inspiration and starting point when designing a home. He takes the time to spend a full day on the build site to understand the passing of the sun, the shade of the trees, the feel of the winds. That’s all good for homes in the country side but what about in big cities? Well, he designed a home a few blocks away from mine. And I live in a dense area called the Plateau Mont-Royal where there’s 100k people living in 8km2. My point is that at first sight you wouldn’t think that nature would hold an important place in the design process for this case. Well, that’s not counting for Pierre Thibault’s vision and determination.
In designing the house « La Fonderie », architect Pierre Thibault pursued more than form and function—he sought to create a home where daily joy could bloom through constant contact with nature. Built in the heart of Montreal’s dense Plateau-Mont-Royal neighborhood, La Fonderie is nestled among alleyways and brick walls, yet it opens inward to an unexpected oasis: a small inner courtyard dominated by a single mature tree.
During construction, the temptation to remove the tree was strong. It stood awkwardly in the middle of the site. But Thibault insisted on preserving it. He designed the house around the tree, not despite it. The result is a sanctuary where light and leaves are part of the architecture. Floor-to-ceiling windows and open sightlines frame the tree from almost every room, transforming it into a living sculpture that marks the seasons.
This gesture was not just aesthetic—it was philosophical. Thibault believes that reconnecting with the rhythms of nature, even in the city, is essential to well-being. The rustle of leaves, the play of shadows, the surprise of a bird landing—these small moments bring calm, grounding, and joie de vivre. In La Fonderie, nature was not an obstacle; it was the heart of the home.
Every weekend, I try to for for a long run. Most often, I invite a friend and go run up Mount-Royal. When I was in my 20s I would run up Olmstead, do a lap at the top and come rushing down. I must have gone up and down 500 times. Sometime in my 30s, I participated in a trail run that went through the forest. I had never dared to run in the trails. The park is so big I didn’t really know where the trails started or ended. The race had an objective to combine the three summits. This opened a whole new topography of a familiar landscape. Today, I now run in the woods. We go up and down and around. I can really tell the difference from running on the road, on the beaten path and out in the trails. There’s no advertising, no man-made objects, just nature. Just joy.
Camping is another joy of living in Quebec. Although it is not a daily activity per say, it is a different way of living your day. Camping extracts all the hassles of modern life and brings back the focus on the necessities. Shelter, food, and family. When we go camping, it’s almost a means to go back to the simple joys of life. The campfire is entertainment. The food seems to taste more. Maybe I just feel like I earned it more. The elements are more present. The sound of the rain on the tent, the feeling of a gust of wind passing through the tent, waking up in the night’s chill, and getting up in the morning’s dew. I go camping to rekindle the daily feeling of nature.