In Chicago, all of the parks are of a size considerable enough to throw a ball for your dog. Or spread yourself across the grass without being so near to another person that you hear them chewing. And maybe we take this green space for granted. By "we", I'm mainly referring to myself.
I grew up in a relatively rural setting. My childhood home had its own sports field, for all intensive purposes, as well as woods and fields rife with opportunities for exploration. The natural world was never in short supply. Then I moved to the city, and even in the green spaces you still feel the veil of urban life. Noises, smells, the inevitable markings of urban infrastructure.
But now I find myself in Manhattan, watching people crowd onto benches and revel in the nature of shrubs and domesticated squirrels (I actually saw someone hand-feeding one). Suddenly, I realize that Chicago's natural spaces bring more to the table than I gave them credit for.
An urban green space will never live up to an autumn walk in the Michigan woods; the leaves transformed into an array of warm hues, the crisp air accenting the earthy smells, and the soundtrack of rustling branches and the birds that call them home. But I can appreciate Chicagoan parks for the unlikely level of respite that they do provide in a city setting.
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