The "Restoration" of Chicago's Nature

This post, which may, or may not turn out to be a rant, was inspired by Growing in Chicago


The city of Chicago has a great habit of "restoring" wetlands when the land wasn't wet, when wild lands, and what few trees, in pre-industrial days were the natural skyscrapers.  Take this "restoration" for example.  Blogger Beth Botts recounts a harrowing tale of how the Army Corps of Engineers tried to "restore" Washington Park to its natural "wetland."     

Picture courtesy of Wikipedia

Fredrick Law Olmsted, the parks' creator, first saw a flat field void of trees.  His initial plans included adding some trees surrounded by a meadow, even inviting sheep to graze, which, if the grass is natural prairie Switchgrass, ends up being more beneficial to not only the sheep, but also the grass.  Grazing sheep help spread the seeds of Switchgrass, and without this natural animal grazing, the prairie needs to undergo a controlled fire.  I'm sure that in the late 19th century, Chicagoans were frightened by even the thought of fire.


Paul Cornell, who was most likely a money hungry, corporate leech, strongly "encouraged" Olmsted to include some sporting areas, because somehow it's better to sport next to a meadow.  Oh, I'm sure Cornell had every intention of either making this park only accessable to the elite or by charging a fee, but we won't mention or talk of this.  (It's not even like any of this has any claim, I'm just assuming that anyone who wants to turn a park into a sporting area has to be in it for the money).  


Here's an old picture of Washington Park, once again, by way of Wikipedia.

Thus, this creation mythology of how Washington Park is a natural wetland is born.  I'm all for parks being restored, but how about bringing in some trained professionals and actually restoring the land to its original habitat?  I mean, Switchgrass isn't that ugly and boring to look at.  Panicum virgatum is being used as a renewable energy and all those great native animals feed on the plant.  It's not just Switchgrass either, but the other hundreds of different varieties of tall-grass prairie.  If we would only look at the natural grasses that once flourished on our land, we would see the beauty (and deer!).  

Less than 0.01% of tall-grass prairie remains in the Midwest, and hey, that's where the tall-grass prairies grow.  Along with demise of the tall-grass prairie were buffalo, rabbits, deer, and elk.  Insects and bees left, too.  Let's also not mention how many awesome, cute little birds must have been affected as well.  It's sad, and a shame that we, as humble, humane people who constantly boast about being "green," treat our land, our nature, our provider.  

No wonder some people say we're doomed.  Perhaps we're not though.  No, surely we're not.  If only we would all take heed from this warning, this seemingly insignificant warning, and pay attention to nature, even if only for a mere five minutes.  We can learn something about the past, the land, about ourselves.  

A Polka Plant that Once Was: Hypoestes phyllostachya

Unfortunately, plants come and go, as is the cycle of nature, right?  Sometimes, though, it's not the cold, harsh weather that decides to eliminate a plant, nor the overshadowing of a bigger plant that towers over a young seedling.  I will admit that I had, and still have problems cutting back on plants.


Some plants that look so pristine sitting in their nice little pot burst into monstrous, leggy beings.  They start to grow all lopsided, awkwardly growing too far up with little bushiness. 


Poor Polka Dot.  He once, I swear, was healthy.

I was enthralled by his bright varieties of crimson red splashed throughout the pale pink and blood red leaves.  He was a perfect addition to the sunny window ledge.  I even bought him a special pot.


Polka grew fast and strong the few short months he was with me.  

A monster of a plant who couldn't grow just right.  

Boston Fern Who Sat on the Fence for a While and Finally Made a Decision

I think, sometimes, that plants must have a challenging time becoming accustomed to a new setting, in a new house, with new rules and regulations.  Perhaps they even face humility looking so desolate in the face of new care takers with his four shabby leaves. Poor plants from Jewel.

All winter he was looking bad.  His home was over on the "other ledge." When he grew, he dropped his older leaves.  


So I let Jewels be.  I let him rest.  I let him compile his energy.  

What we can all become if we were just given the opportunity and time.  Of course, I haven't made any grave mistakes with him as of yet, but, who knows - maybe that will come in the future.

I Interrupt This Message for a Weather Update

Spring has arrived!


To a Chicagoan, these three words are top most important to our vocabulary, if not the most important three words that any Chicagoan will utter in wonder at the first warm day.  

Never mind that Mountain Dew, just concentrate on how beautiful that ground looks!  

To live in the Midwest means to grow a thick layer of skin and be perpetually hibernating.  We've just gone through one of the most wretched winters in four years.  For about a week, snow just kept falling, thousands of flakes after thousands more of flakes, and they piled into one giant sea of snow.  Again, those three and a half feet of snow froze over, trapping each Chicagoan to his or her home for a week.  It's all cabin fever.  It's torture!

Though faced with a wall of snow, he wanders on.  Image: chicagonow.com

One day, though, Chicago thaws out.  Snow finally melts and Chicago just becomes this gray, rainy mess for weeks on end.  It's like riding down the river in Heart of Darkness; perpetually surrounded by this never ending fog.  


This post was dedicated to the crazy Midwest weather because secretly, Chicagoans love bragging about the "haphazard" weather.

A Conning Conifer

Norfolk Pine, a tropical conifer (if that makes sense) helping us all out. This little guy doesn't look like much, but he helps me out all the time.

The Wrath of Dragon Tree

Dragon Tree has an almost parallel story to that of Schefflera: a neglected plant that had almost given up until he burst into the beautiful plant that he is today.

He was Schefflera's partner in crime.  Together they sat on that table with little light, revolting by letting their bodies grow limp.  

There he stands, like a true fascist leader: all tall and proud, but was weak.  

Continually, I look at Dragon Tree.  I'm enthralled at how a guy who went from looking so sad, looks so beautiful now.

Pothos

As I've learned (and then forget and re-learn), this is a pothos and not a philodendron.