When a garden is more than a garden

It was a typical spring day that would have been perfect if only the sun shone a little warmer and the wind blew a little softer. Still it was too fine a day to stay indoors that day in May when the earth poured forth its native glory in modest mauves, royal purples and vivid fuchsias. Less showy than  summer gardens where yellows and reds shout out for attention, the first blooms of spring appear on the heels of winter and let out a collective sigh that signals the changing season. Be patient they seem to say, breathe deeply and savor the sweetness in the air, the dewy fresh mowed grass and newborn leaves that glisten brighter now. This snapshot could be anywhere - a country field, grandmother's yard, Monet's garden at Giverny. 


                                                                                                                               

Look closer. A hint of stainless steel ribbons (The Jay Pritzker Pavillion) and high rise structures suggest someplace different.

Still to this day, six years after its completion, I am awed by The Lurie Garden at Millennium Park in Chicago. The five-acre perennial paradise is an oasis in the city.

 A place to reflect, relax and recharge. 

A place to learn and love. 

A place to be.