It always struck me as funny that people all over the world hustle off to see famous sights in faraway places while neglecting to visit hot spots right in their own backyards. How many New Yorkers have been to the top of the Empire State Building? How many Londoners have stood in line at Buckingham Palace? We human beings tend to think that the other guys' stuff is infinitely superior to ours and think nothing of racing off to stand in line with thousands of other delusional tourists instead of appreciating our own local treasures.
Case in point - I've lived in Chicago most of my life. During that time I've seen plenty of what brings tourists to our city. I've been to the top of the Sears Tower (I'll never be able to call it the Willis Tower), I've spent money on Michigan Avenue, I've spent the day at Navy Pier and taken the Architectural Tour along the river. I've listened to music at Ravinia, I've taken in Cubs, Sox, Bears, Bulls and Blackhawks games (are we a lucky city or what?) and I've eaten more deep-dish pizza than I care to admit. But, until yesterday, I had never been to The Botanic Gardens. What a mistake.
The day was brisk but sunny. The grounds were immaculate and still bursting with colorful flowers, shrubs and trees. There was an English garden which looked like something out of Jane Eyre and a fruit and vegetable garden with a chef hosting a seasonal cooking demonstration. There were signs offering tips for organic gardening and composting and an area with toy trains running through tiny tunnels. Everywhere you turned there were reminders of the infinite and varied beauty that God has created for us to enjoy. The fact that I got to share it with my husband and six fantastic people I'm lucky enough to call friends made it just about perfect.
And that wasn't all. When I got home, my DVR delivered a commercial-free Bears victory. That does it - my Ryder Cup blues are officially banished.
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