The suburbs sustain their own landscape aesthetic, different from that of the city or country. Whenever I visit my brother, who lives in a sweet subdivision in Palatine, I realize how much I crave those expanses of lawn and the calming sight of manicured bushes and sheltering trees. Like many city-dwellers, I grew up in the suburbs, a habitat I nostalgically associate with order and peace.
An air of expectancy adorns a suburban home on Christmas night. A dusting of snow has fallen, right on cue. Stillness reigns about the darkened doorway. What kind of day has it actually been?
We drove by the Botanic Garden on our way to our uncle’s. I felt the urge to turn in or at least stop the car.
It was not just the allure of the colors and the shapes: it was that wall. Walls make a garden, in my opinion. There’s something positively primordial about their pull.