A Portrait of City Seasons

Looming off in the distance across a giant lake, the city of Chicago stands majestically against a bright daytime sky. Within this metropolis, cool winds brush against your face while picking up bits of paper and the occasional cigarette butt as the breeze scurries along a crowded city street. The summer heat scorches the crowns of every building; towering radio antennas point angrily toward the God responsible.

In the city parks, flowers feel like garden weeds. Competing for space, they push their way skyward attempting to steal any bit of light they can before the sweeping high-rises hide the life-giving fireball from their view. Reflecting off buildings like mirrors, the sun is a halogen bulb burning brighter than the Great Chicago Fire.

Lake Michigan sits like a bathtub of the Roman gods. The wide expanse of water mimics an Antarctic glacier, miles in length, longer than the entire state of Illinois. The lake is home to many creatures: trout, bluegills, carp and sunfish all dwell within the depths of this sea. Giant white ducks fifty feet in length pepper the calm surface near the shoreline. Their sails collapsed completely, fading bows tell the story of all their years at sea.

The clouds come and go like guests of the Palmer House. Every day the clouds appear in new shapes, often times looking like Picassos's "Weeping Woman" which sleeps in Daley Square.

As the air grows cooler and the winds die down, the city folks know that autumn is approaching. The lake water becomes less friendly with each passing day, and warns all who come near her, "Go away. It is too cold to swim."

Autumn in the city is much different from in the country. The new age architecture and the dull shades of color do not change. Fall in the city is not an explosion of the bright colors from a crackling fire. Leaves do not carpet the city streets. Animals do not hasten off to build their winter homes. Fall in the city brings with it different changes.

Boats come out of the water, storefront window displays change, and people wear heavier coats. Preparing for winter, the pigeons begin to nestle deep within their nests. The seagulls leave and the fountain stops. While the classic changes of fall occur, the scale of transformation is smaller than in the country. The leaves on the dwarf elm trees lining Michigan Avenue change color and fall off, but in the "city of big shoulders" the public is more concerned with meetings and family gatherings. People do not seem to notice the changes in the trees; the leaves that fall to the sidewalk are quickly picked up and carried off into the street by the air of a passing cab. They go unnoticed. They swirl around drainpipes and collect oil drips from cars until they are sucked up by a Chicago Public Works truck.

Pumpkins are tucked away inside lonely apartment rooms; dried ears of corn hang on doors, hidden from view to everyone but neighbors and people walking to the elevator. Halloween comes and goes and the changes of fall continue to go unnoticed.

Overnight, the temperature drops like a brick in water and the city plunges into a gloomy, frigid world. All the city's inhabitants bundle up and look winter straight in the eye, preparing to bear anything he attempts that might upset their daily routine.

Downtown, winter is a burden. He is responsible for clients who are late to meetings, and for managers who are late to open. Winter causes traffic to slow down. By covering the roads with ice, he makes the commuters drive twenty on Lake Shore Drive instead of the usual forty-five.

Winter is a force, a blanket, and an annoying fog; he is mean. The stoic face of winter looks out over Lake Michigan, freezing the once life-bearing waters into a plane constructed of solid ice. Beneath this new rugged terrain, fish huddle together and the plants wilt. Winter doesn't stop. With his cold heart and wiry hair, winter makes a stern face and calls upon a potent North wind. Sweeping across the frozen lake the gust of air grows icy cold and bites the noses of anyone in its path. To exposed hands, the evil breeze throws tiny ice swords, poking at them until they turn a deep, crimson red.

The Arctic wind howls as it runs through the city streets. Swooping down between buildings it grabs the hats and newspapers of innocent victims, causing them to sprint after their stolen possessions. They end up face down in a bank of snow after tripping over the many ice patches that line the streets like cars.

Snow falls every day. Blowing off Lake Michigan, the lake-effect snow travels quickly, flying out far into the suburbs like geese flying South for the winter. Columbus Drive and Clark Street seem like the snow covered streets of Bedford Falls from "It's a Wonderful Life."

The fluffy white crystals blanket the entire city while the Chicago city workers fight a never-ending battle with winter to keep the streets cleared. Little kids jump about while adults don their boots and grumble as they trod through the slush and ice to walk down the block.

As salt litters the street and footprints lay stamped in the white tarpaulin of snow, the sun gradually moves back towards the Midwest and the ice and snow begin to melt.

Spring rolls in like an old circus train. Her wheels slowly turn and one by one, and changes begin to take effect. The trees know they survived the long winter, and warm up with a sense of pride. The brown bark no longer looks frail and old, it shines like armor as the melted snow glistens in the afternoon sun. Wrapped around branches like Christmas lights, tiny green buds begin to push out of the trees and prepare to make the transition back into flourishing leaves. The lake again becomes a pool for the gods, Buckingham Fountain is turned back on, and private boats make their journey down the Chicago River into the great Lake Michigan.

Busy commuters know it's spring by the numerous bridges that open up to allow the passing ships to sail smoothly back to sea. The commuters do not mind, everyone is glad winter is over.

The coming of Spring brings with it many changes. Petite red roses bloom in Grant Park and the wildflower garden on top of the Monroe Street garage bursts into a blazing pallet of hues. Swooping through the air, seagulls return to the lake looking for dead fish and leftover bait from the early morning fisherman. Pigeons reappear from their winter nests, and squirrels frolic in the treetops overhead.

The warm sun livens the city's spirit and the buildings stand like tall soldiers with a proud look of power and authority. The skyline shines in the afternoon sun and the charm and beauty of the great city comes back in all its grandeur.

New exhibits open at museums and new sculptures tower where only open space once abounded. The waves crash on the city beaches and men and women come out to reclaim their lake for swimming. Traffic resumes to its normal pace and congestion grows worse as more people travel to the city on the lake.

With vibrant blue skies, down pillow clouds return fluffier than ever to a new city scene. The State of Illinois building raises the American flag and it flaps like a windsock in the brisk spring wind.

To the many people that live in the city, the seasons are just a blur. They see the changes as they take place, enjoying them when they can. But just as a fish swims unaware of its surroundings, the people pay no attention to the changes going on in their city. They are not affected by them. Instead, the workplace calls to them. Commuters of all ages, colors, and sizes jump into their cars each morning with a steaming cup of coffee. Some work in the city, while others squeeze their way into the early-morning rush hour traffic of the interstate, and drive off into the "burbs."

For me, Chicago is more than just a city on a lake. It is bustling metropolis with the same outdoor qualities as a country farm. It is home to a great assortment of animals, a medley of brilliant colors, and a warehouse of sound. The city is a giant outdoor zoo, with all the qualities of a cozy agrarian landscape, all tucked within its folds and open cavities-- sprouting and springing forth wherever the massive bulk of the city will allow it to do so.

I need the nature. With all my relatives living in the downtown area, I believe the city would be a boring place without it. The city needs nature, too. Her gentle touch of scenery adds a warmth, and a feeling of homeliness within the towering city "walls." The spring breeze waddles down the sand beaches and takes a dip.

Chicago is alive and well.