Today is the kind of gorgeous day that makes me glad to live in Chicago.


Now, don't get me wrong, at least once every few months (and this includes this time of year), I complain about Chicago and swear I'm going to pack my bags for somewhere more whatever-I-happen-to-be-needing/craving-du-jour, and most of all, more green. I am bred-born-n-raised in New England, and although I am by no stretch a 'treehugger', things like trees, hills, and lots of plants are very much in my blood, and when winters here are particularly drab, I start getting antsy. Two or three winters ago, we had a winter so abysmally grey and dingy I thought I was going to have some sort of postal cabin fever episode. "Woman has standoff at Water Tower; pelts passerby with snowballs." You know you're in trouble if you go to Vegas in March and cannot help but think how green and colorful that desert city is in comparison to your hometown.

Well, Vegas is colorful in a way that so few cities are. Other highly colorful cities include San Francisco, Sydney and Miami, places so colorful - and I mean in a physical/architectural sense, never mind their populations - so vibrant and exciting it nearly makes your eyes hurt.

But back on topic.

Architecturally, Chicago is an amazing city. While not quite as dazzling as say, Hong Kong, it has a wonderful melange of styles, ranging from some of the oldest skyscrapers in the world, to modern, pretty towers of glass, glass, and just a bit of metal. It is really interesting to walk around the Loop and see how today's buildings help reflect light on to, as well as physically reflecting, their older neighbors next door. I spent my first two years in the city just goggling at all the architecture. I still love the architecture.

There's more to Chicago in the summer, though. Spring's colors come quickly, and in the space of just a week or two, the leaves come, the temperature rises, and the people - the people are out everywhere! The black winter coats get shed, and the city comes out to play. Hizzoner Mayor Daley is fond of Paris, so he's passed a lot of initiatives that make Chicago a garden and flower-friendly city. (Well, we still need to have those little gardens you can lease for the summer like NYC and London have.)

And we play hard here during the spring and summer (aka "construction season"). The season is short and we're going to revel in every last second of it.

When I lived in Raleigh, dining outside was quite commonplace. It was actually unusual if a restaurant didn't have outdoor seating. It was something we took for granted. Here, outdoor dining is a brief spring/summertime treat. My coworker and I went to The Kerryman for lunch today, and luxuriated in an hour's sunshine. I grabbed an iced latté in the lobby Starbucks when we got back to work, and rode up the elevator with a guy who commented, "On days like this, they ought to put a note in our records: Actually came back to work after lunch on a perfectly beautiful day." Ok, so it was a dorky joke, but we like to laugh about our weather here. We have to. We cherish the good days too much.

And while part of me would probably happily move back to Raleigh/Chapel Hill, there's another part of me that really cherishes the joyful simplicity of revelling in one of these perfect Chicago days.

Some pics!

I like this shot because the glass on this building often mimics the sky, especially around sunset. In this picture, taken about an hour before sunset, a slice of sunlight reaches between two neighboring buildings. You can see the building not only reflecting the neighboring building, but how the light reflects off the glass building and hits the other.

Another picture of the same building, taken from another angle, about 20 minutes later. (The colors are untouched, btw.)

This is the Chase Tower, as seen looking upwards from the Clark Street side of the plaza on the south side of the building. The Chase Tower has an "A" frame to it; when you stand close to the building and look directly up, you get a cool visual illusion of the building leaning over you, instead of away.

After several years of structural work, the Carson Pirie Scott building's facade at 1 South State Street is once again in full view to passerby. If you look closely at this cast ironwork at the building's entrance, you can find the initials of the building's designer, Louis H. Sullivan.

One of the oldest shopping landmarks in Chicago, these clocks mark the State Street corners of the Marshall Field's flagship store. If you look closely, you can see a touch of sunset light on the clock face. (Unfortunately, Macy's still plans to change the Marshall Field's name as of September, 2006.)

This church, on West Madison in the Loop, always looks really cool first thing in the morning and late in the day, when sunlight down Madison highlights the architecture.

If you look very closely at this picture, you can see a rainbow over the tan multi-level building on the left. (I keep forgetting the building's name; I refer to it as "the Batman building".)

A couple pictures of "the Bean". Just because the Bean (aka. Cloud Gate) is just that cool. If you look at the reflection in this picture, you'll see the Frank Gehry-designed Jay Pritzker Pavilion.

This view and the lighting conditions make the top of the sculpture almost meld into the sky; this angle reflects the historical South Michigan Avenue skyline.

And just because it's summer... a Cubs game, as seen from the upper bleachers. If you squint a bit at the big gap between the highrises, you can see Lake Michigan. :)

And oh yeah, supposed to be in the 80s all weekend! Bling bling!

On the flip side of my day, I want the last two hours of my life back for watching 10.5: Apocalypse. I thought the original was bad enough, so I'm not even sure why I watched this (400 channels and nothing on?), but watching this sequel provoked the same kind of unable-to-wrench-your-eyes-away that any big disaster seems to invoke. Wow. That was some spectacularly bad special effects, even worse acting, and as Katrina proved, there is just no realistic way to evacuate millions out of the way of a major natural disaster with less than 24 hours' notice. (Another big flaw: at the end of the movie, the fault line, which goes from Hudson Bay to the Gulf of Mexico, floods northwards from the Gulf - and yet none of the water from Hudson Bay flows into the fault! Yeah, that's realistic!)

If you are fascinated by natural disasters, and want a more realistic rendering of what would happen if/when the New Madrid fault line ever was hit by a massive earthquake, check out Walter J. Williams's The Rift.