“I always say … ” Vivienne Croisette was saying the other day, “I am an English woman who had to go all the way to Zimbabwe to meet my French husband.”

The temporary Torontonian — certainly the one who has value-added the most to the city this summer, I would suggest — had just suggested a stroll, the two of us embarking on a wind-about among the swaying banana plants, the star of Persia, the Dalmatian iris and more rising up from the Toronto Botanical Garden, just off Lawrence Ave. E.

In our sights, indubitably too: the 100 extraordinary sculptures currently found here, each one standing as tall as seven feet and many of them weighing about a ton. And my effervescent new friend, who has a speck of Coronation Street about her, and whose blocky, black earrings dangled as we spoke? She happens to be responsible for the must-see assemblage (free admission, but get there before Sept. 8).

“I thought I was going to the Africa of Tarzan and Jane, the Africa of Out of Africa … but, in the end, it was not that at all,” she had segued to telling me when asked about her singular trajectory. The characters sufficient to go in a tweet would go something like this: Young woman working for an art space in London promoting international artists meets sculptor from Zimbabwe, which spurs curiosity about his work, which then leads to a trip to the southern African nation to learn more. Was supposed to be a three-week trip. It has been almost 20. Years.

Picking up a penchant for marketing the sculptors of her adopted homeland — an Afro esthetic that has grown in popularity over the years and counts Sir David Attenborough among its earliest collectors — Croisette eventually started ZimSculpt, a company that reinvests its profits in more artwork and aims to promote the artists at lavish shows that Croisette has put on worldwide, including at the prestigious Chelsea Flower Show in Britain. The acquisition of Joseph, that aforementioned French husband, followed — he was a chef at the time working in Africa. Two children ensued.

“It’s trade, not aid,” she said, mantralike, when we stopped to look at a finespun sculpture dubbed Dancer, made by artist Vengai Chiwawa and priced at $11,000 (all the sculptures here are for sale).

The way she and her husband work? They travel their country, making contact with artists (about 80 in total these days) and purchasing their work upfront. Five per cent of proceeds go to a charitable foundation and she pays to bring artists with her overseas, as she has with the two she’s brought to Canada. It is her second consecutive summer in Toronto.

And the family that collects together? It Airbnbs together. As is their practice when travelling to different places every year, she and her husband, children and their Zimbabwean nanny of 10 years, Gloria Zinyakasa, have set up shop in a seasonal lair, this one near York Mills and Bayview. The two artists are in the house, too, so it is one big, happy family. “Seven of us,” she emphasized.

They have hired a tutor for the children while here, but Eliane, 5, is also going to summer day camp (where she has picked up a speckle of a Canadian accent, her mother laughs). Her other kid, who is 10 and whom I met briefly, is attending a motocross camp, as he is a motor bike champion back in Zimbabwe.

“Meet Emile,” she motioned to her son when we stumbled upon him at one point.

As we traipsed the garden, she gave me more of the rundown. Yes, this tradition of sculpture is known as Shona and started in the 1950s. No, the artists do not pre-sketch their work, rather visualizing the shape of a creature or person in the stone. Yes, it is all handcrafted, etched from fabulous ecological deposits indigenous to Zimbabwe: spotted leopard rock, dark plum lepidolite, a latte-dark jade.

Oh and, yup: this tradition is often passed from generation to generation: such-and-such sculptor was taught by his uncle; this sculptor tradition is three generations deep.

“When I look at a piece I see the art, of course … but I am mainly seeing the artist,” she says.

Talking about the mood in her country, especially in this post-Mugabe era, following the recent fall of a ghastly 37-year dictatorship, she shared that it was exhilarating when it happened — “we were on the street celebrating it” — but what followed was the inevitable cold splash of reality coming out of a political quake. Unemployment remains shockingly high.

Our eyes grazing a number of sculptures that come with signs informing that they are courtesy of the Schulich Foundation, Croisette said it all transpired fairly organically because Canadian billionaire Seymour Schulich likes to take thoughtful walks through the area. He was so delighted with the Shona artwork he decided to buy a bunch then redonate them to the garden.

Meaning: some of the sculptures will thrive in Toronto long after Croisette and her clan are gone.

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Where do they expect to be next summer? I asked.

“Alabama,” she said, to my surprise. “We like to go to unexpected places.”