Thin Description 1

The Shooting Star Savanna is proudly our Lake Forest College wilderness haven, accompanied by a thought-provoking stone bench and mesmerizing musical sounds coming from somewhere within the canopy above. Native species surround us and grow rampant as they should. Environmental studies professors puff their chests out proudly at the thought of the suburban convenience and the excuse to spend class hours in something other than the limiting space of the great indoors. To leave modernity and the comfort of designated learning space is an adventure even when the learning space is just out the back door of the conventional red brick and into a more foreign space. While the flower heads are level with mine and the trees hold stories a hundred years old I can still hear the buzz of a whipper snipper somewhere across the ravine and the echo of a jet engine trailing its way from one horizon to the next. I am reminded of the lines of cars behind me and the rubber soles on my feet. The trees are just as much a boundary as the classroom walls.

Thick Description 1

The Shooting Star Savanna is a naturally recreated prairie, a suburban solution to the loss of wilderness. But, more people are rolling up their lawns for wild grass and flowers, maybe even a man made pond. The reappointed native species surround us and grow rampant as the real wild does. Professors puff their chests proudly at the throught of the exurban convenience of growth within the cracks of the civilized. To think the evolution of education has ended in limiting the physical space in which it takes place gives me shivers in the sunlight, but I march along the path of academia proudly. The conventional red brick walls hold my mind, and the native prairie beyond the glass is but a foreign place. Reminding me of the otherworldliness of this space, where the flower heads are level with mine, is the echo of a jet engine trailing its way from one horizon to he next. I think of the lines of parked cars behind me and the rubber soles of my feet. The trees are just as much a boundary as the classroom walls.

Thin Description 2

‘Tis a concrete garden: nameless and hard enough to break a glass bottle. The only green in this garden grows in the cracks where the bricks should collide but, for whatever reason, don’t. The moss and grass claim the space. I want to count the bricks but realize that would be as pointless as counting flowers, were they there. The plotted trees stand tall, and close enough by the remind me I am outside. The season caters to the crickets and birds I hear often, but see rarely. Two children are playing ring-around-the-rosy on their bikes and their training wheels fill the air with a drowning vibration. Wearing helmets for protection does not save one fall from becoming a tragedy. The fun and spontaneity of the outdoors is abruptly ended by the threat of the concrete garden.

Thick Description 2

If you think a garden must contain flowers and soil, you are wrong, for I found one made of ninety degree angles and red-grey cement. The only green in this garden grows in the cracks where the bricks should collide, but even the manufactured world is imperfect. I want to count the bricks but realize that would be just as pointless as counting the flowers, were they here. Green lawns roll to trees, leading me into the remembrance that this is an outdoor environment. The unlawful whether has teased me since my return from the desert but the sun is out and the season caters to the crickets and birds who migrated with us in our quest alone the beaten interstates. Children are always making the best out of this created landscape and I see two playing ring-around-the-rosy on their bikes, their training wheels filling the air with drowning vibrations as rubber meets brick. Wearing helmets because she said so does not save one fall from becoming a tragedy and a concerned mother warns and protects her child from the looming outdoors. The fun and spontaneity of the adventure is abruptly ended by the threat of the concrete garden.