How green was my arboretum
It's October in Chicago, meaning Mother Nature is super confused about what should or should not be happening right now. It's hot, it's cold, it's windy, it's rainy, it's windy, it's sunny. I got to watch a green tree lose its leaves en masse this morning, and one of the room renters commented, the leaves aren't coming down singly; they're coming down in clumps! True, that. What surprised us was that these weren't leaves drained of chlorophyll, but the room renter wondered if the recent overnight frosts have caused the trees enough stress that the leaves simply aren't strong enough to remain on the branches, color change or no.
We'd had a cold front blow through last week, which brought down a fair bit of foliage. Part of me panicked and said, I want to get to the arboretum in time to see the leaves before they're all gone! And, naturally, I didn't get out of work as quickly as I'd hoped to on Monday, so that it was about 5 PM when I got there (though I made it in 15 minutes this time, at least), and since they close at dusk, it would only be open until 6:15. That's okay. There's still time.
I took the long route all the way around the east side and was disappointed to see that most of the trees were still green! There was some change, but not much. It's a two or three mile route and slow going since most of it is only 20 MPH, and some places are 10 owing to inclines. This is fine, because your car shares the road with bicyclists and walkers. Yo, walkers, why do you people not move over when a car is coming at you? They're instructed to walk against traffic, so they can always see you coming, yet people still walk in the middle of the road rather than moving over! What the heck, people. I mean, the road is only so wide. I can only move over so far. You're gonna have to do some moving as well. There was also a lone biker, thankfully wearing bright clothing, up ahead of me past the crabapple portion. I was going slowly enough, and they were going fast enough, that we stayed the same distance apart the whole time, up until the biker took an offshoot road which conveniently said "Do not enter," but perhaps they work there. Not judging. Too busy looking at trees and trying to stay on the winding road.
And, well, past a certain point, trying to see said winding road. It was the golden hour, and I was heading toward the west, and it was a little hard to see. Not ideal. There's been some infomercial on one of the channels my father likes to watch, and it has this replacement visor for your car with some sort of super clarifying glass or whatever, enabling you to see clearly in bright sunlight and what have you. I was all, I have sunglasses; I'll be fine. But then, driving down that private road, I realized my folly and kinda wonder how well that visor would help. Especially given that pedestrians are all over the place there. I mean, they're not every few feet or anything, but they pop out of nowhere, and again, given their penchant for not moving despite having a car directly in front of them, the onus may well be on me to see them first.
I will say it was a pleasant drive. I don't think I've been on that farthest part of the drive before, having taken one of the shortcut roads back to the main entrance road, so it was new. The trees are so dense there that I had my lights on and was glad for it, just in case. I think it's a woodland restoration project of sorts; not quite sure. But yeah. It very much reminds me of camp in a lot of ways, which of course makes my heart happy. I do enjoy being among trees, and it's weird for me to be in a camp-like setting at this time of year. I have always wondered what it looked like in the fall--but I want to imagine it all colorful and not like it ended up being. Drat.
When I finished my drive around the east side, I parked, because of course I had to go to the bathroom by then (what, I'd had a softball-sized honeycrisp apple with my lunch and water-based fruits always encourage that sort of thing), and I decided to walk around for a bit as well, even though it was only in the 40s, brr. I'd noticed something like a life-sized Lego man on the path near the front lake, and I discovered there were local Boy and Girl Scout troops that had made scarecrows and you could vote on your favorite. How cool! Some of them were very clever; some were clearly made by young kids; all were nice to see, and I found several groups, including those with children, who were walking around looking at them as well. The scarecrows were from all over the suburbs, from west to northwest to southwest, including Louise White School here in Batavia (and I did like theirs). Not only is it a fun project for everyone, but it's a smart way to get these groups to come and visit the arboretum as well. I'm also inclined to think that Illuminations takes place around this lake--it's a decent walk but still close to the visitor center and parking lot for those nights when it's pretty cold and snowy. Plus, it's not like there are lights all around the arboretum--there's a reason it closes at dusk. And I'm sure any critters who live there appreciate being able to roam around unfettered during at least part of the day.
There had been a festival on Saturday, the Cider & Ale Fest, and there were still tents set up from that. There were also some decorations in the area behind the visitor center, big tall pumpkin displays with flowery cabbages swirling up several yards in the air. Picturesque, though my camera stayed in my purse. I decided to walk around a bit more despite the chill and found myself first by some of the hedges, then down the Conifer Walk because it was just half a mile. There's another path through there I'd like to take someday, when it's either warmer or sunnier or when I have on warmer clothes.
I think it was about 6 PM when I returned to my car, done for the day. I was disappointed that the colors hadn't happened, but I can still go back next Monday, I suppose. And it might even be a bit warmer then, too, though I'm not sure I'll drive around, given how hard it could be to see stuff. Walking is good, though. I haven't done much of it recently and it's good to clear my head of things. There's only a few more weeks of daylight in the afternoons, and then I'm stuck inside, the library for me. Blech. Although really the worst part of the library is the lack of parking, not the library itself. But I'd much rather be outside if at all possible.
We'd had a cold front blow through last week, which brought down a fair bit of foliage. Part of me panicked and said, I want to get to the arboretum in time to see the leaves before they're all gone! And, naturally, I didn't get out of work as quickly as I'd hoped to on Monday, so that it was about 5 PM when I got there (though I made it in 15 minutes this time, at least), and since they close at dusk, it would only be open until 6:15. That's okay. There's still time.
I took the long route all the way around the east side and was disappointed to see that most of the trees were still green! There was some change, but not much. It's a two or three mile route and slow going since most of it is only 20 MPH, and some places are 10 owing to inclines. This is fine, because your car shares the road with bicyclists and walkers. Yo, walkers, why do you people not move over when a car is coming at you? They're instructed to walk against traffic, so they can always see you coming, yet people still walk in the middle of the road rather than moving over! What the heck, people. I mean, the road is only so wide. I can only move over so far. You're gonna have to do some moving as well. There was also a lone biker, thankfully wearing bright clothing, up ahead of me past the crabapple portion. I was going slowly enough, and they were going fast enough, that we stayed the same distance apart the whole time, up until the biker took an offshoot road which conveniently said "Do not enter," but perhaps they work there. Not judging. Too busy looking at trees and trying to stay on the winding road.
And, well, past a certain point, trying to see said winding road. It was the golden hour, and I was heading toward the west, and it was a little hard to see. Not ideal. There's been some infomercial on one of the channels my father likes to watch, and it has this replacement visor for your car with some sort of super clarifying glass or whatever, enabling you to see clearly in bright sunlight and what have you. I was all, I have sunglasses; I'll be fine. But then, driving down that private road, I realized my folly and kinda wonder how well that visor would help. Especially given that pedestrians are all over the place there. I mean, they're not every few feet or anything, but they pop out of nowhere, and again, given their penchant for not moving despite having a car directly in front of them, the onus may well be on me to see them first.
I will say it was a pleasant drive. I don't think I've been on that farthest part of the drive before, having taken one of the shortcut roads back to the main entrance road, so it was new. The trees are so dense there that I had my lights on and was glad for it, just in case. I think it's a woodland restoration project of sorts; not quite sure. But yeah. It very much reminds me of camp in a lot of ways, which of course makes my heart happy. I do enjoy being among trees, and it's weird for me to be in a camp-like setting at this time of year. I have always wondered what it looked like in the fall--but I want to imagine it all colorful and not like it ended up being. Drat.
When I finished my drive around the east side, I parked, because of course I had to go to the bathroom by then (what, I'd had a softball-sized honeycrisp apple with my lunch and water-based fruits always encourage that sort of thing), and I decided to walk around for a bit as well, even though it was only in the 40s, brr. I'd noticed something like a life-sized Lego man on the path near the front lake, and I discovered there were local Boy and Girl Scout troops that had made scarecrows and you could vote on your favorite. How cool! Some of them were very clever; some were clearly made by young kids; all were nice to see, and I found several groups, including those with children, who were walking around looking at them as well. The scarecrows were from all over the suburbs, from west to northwest to southwest, including Louise White School here in Batavia (and I did like theirs). Not only is it a fun project for everyone, but it's a smart way to get these groups to come and visit the arboretum as well. I'm also inclined to think that Illuminations takes place around this lake--it's a decent walk but still close to the visitor center and parking lot for those nights when it's pretty cold and snowy. Plus, it's not like there are lights all around the arboretum--there's a reason it closes at dusk. And I'm sure any critters who live there appreciate being able to roam around unfettered during at least part of the day.
There had been a festival on Saturday, the Cider & Ale Fest, and there were still tents set up from that. There were also some decorations in the area behind the visitor center, big tall pumpkin displays with flowery cabbages swirling up several yards in the air. Picturesque, though my camera stayed in my purse. I decided to walk around a bit more despite the chill and found myself first by some of the hedges, then down the Conifer Walk because it was just half a mile. There's another path through there I'd like to take someday, when it's either warmer or sunnier or when I have on warmer clothes.
I think it was about 6 PM when I returned to my car, done for the day. I was disappointed that the colors hadn't happened, but I can still go back next Monday, I suppose. And it might even be a bit warmer then, too, though I'm not sure I'll drive around, given how hard it could be to see stuff. Walking is good, though. I haven't done much of it recently and it's good to clear my head of things. There's only a few more weeks of daylight in the afternoons, and then I'm stuck inside, the library for me. Blech. Although really the worst part of the library is the lack of parking, not the library itself. But I'd much rather be outside if at all possible.