The Botanical Gardens: The Decline.

While my life is consumed by medicine and school work, the other part is consumed in transition and expansion. I recently treated myself to a visit to the Chicago Botanical Gardens, where I found and entire landscape undergoing the same. 

Tourists flock to an amazing display and manicured feat of art when they visit the gardens during the summer. Crowds of brides and grooms waddle through exotic flowers, bushes and Japanese sculptures to look their best amongst natural beauty. After finally surviving Finals week in school, and missing out on historically warm weather that coincidentally fell on those specific testing days, I decided that my first hours of freedom would be spent in the Botanical Gardens with my gear. Murphy’s Law fell in my lap, and the temperatures dropped 30 degrees, and snow was predicted. I hopped the Metra, and arrived at the proper train station- dismayed at the fact that the usual trolly wasn’t running transportation today. 

I walked the 2 miles necessary to get there- and braved the chilly breeze that swirled leaves around my scarf and hat. I was determined. Eventually, with the entrance just barely on the horizon, I felt the first rain drops nick my cheeks, and I knew this was not going to be working according to my plan- something Ive had to get used to a lot recently. Sheets of rain fell only minutes later as I took my first steps inside the Welcome Center, and I warmed my hands with a hot cup of coffee. Memories of my past visit there sat down with me, and I greeted them with a nod, knowing that they too wanted company and some warmth from the cup. Without many words to say , we all got up together after a spell, bundled up, and  walked into the brisk chill of the air- now rainless, but only temporarily.

What I found was gardens upon gardens; damp and in a state of slow but inevitable change. Some flowers were still unseasonally in bloom, others shrunken and hugging the earth they would eventually return to. The once carefully controlled and handcrafted arena of plant arrangements were now returning to a more natural state - one that nature could only control. And it was it's own beauty. I was suddenly aware that  I was the only one in the park with a camera admiring this process of decline and return. There were seas of brown and yellow occasionally spiked with a flare of red and violet. Once majestic plumes of petals now were took on the appearance of over-fired pottery shards, and melted glass.

 I think these shots managed to capture a sketch of what I saw.