Site 4: Humber Valley Ice Rink at Humber Valley Park

1. The next stop on my tour is the Humber Valley ice rink. As the name implies, it sits on the side of a small valley, just below its surroundings. Humber Valley Village School sits on the top of the valley's edge, and I arrive just a few minutes before the children get out of school. Once again it is a beautiful fall day, but it is also at that awkward time where it is a bit too cold for tennis and a bit too warm for ice skating, so no one when I arrive I am the only person in the immediate area. I can see that the beginning stages of converting the arena from tennis courts to an ice rink are underway, although the sign on the door says that it won't be open for skating until early December. A small stone retaining wall lines the western side of the rink. The area is equipped with six high powered lights that allow people to use the rink well after dark - a plus when it starts getting dark before dinner. There are also city lightposts in the rink's small parking lot, as well as lights above each door in protective cages to prevent them from getting shattered by an errant ball or puck. Two sets of city garbage and recycling boxes are in the front of the property, and many of the infrastructure that keeps the area powered. The area is quiet when I arrive, but the school bell rings not too long after and the sounds of children laughing and playing soon fill the air.

2. There is one other car parked in the parking lot when I arrive, but the entire time I am there I am the only person in the immediate area around the rink. While it is obvious that there has been work going on at the facility to get it ready for the winter season some time in the recent past, there doesn't appear to be any going on today. I never did see the person that owned the car. Perhaps they were using the parking lot while the walked their dog in the adjacent park or went for a walk or jog around the neighbourhood.

3. Although there was not much going on for me to observe that day, and the building itself was rather plain (as most city-run recreational facilities tend to be), it is located in a very nice neighbourhood in a rather picturesque area and I quite enjoyed my visit. I have never used this rink before, but being there felt very familiar, reminding me of winters from my childhood when my friends and I would spend entire days at the local ice rink, trying to copy our favourite figure skaters or pretending to be famous hockey players. There is something fundamentally Canadian about ice skating - something I didn't fully understand until I went to a high school with a large African immigrant population, many of whom not only didn't own a pair ice skates, but had never skated before in their lives. Looking back, there is a good chance that such sentimentalities affected my observations and reflexive analysis.

4. While this may not have been the kind of area that Ebenezer Howard was envisioning when he thought of his "Three Magnets" diagram, it does fit many of his criteria for the "town-country" area he idealized in his piece in the SUDR. Both the school and rink are located within a park that is easy for the entire community to access. The surrounding homes are attractive with well-manicured and professionally landscaped lawns and gardens. As a result, the entire neighbourhood almost becomes an extension of the park, fully embracing the beauty of nature. While it would be hard to say there are low rents, rates, and prices, considering that many of the nearby homes are multi-million dollar properties, there also happens to be an abundance of more affordable dwellings thanks to a collection of highrise and lowrise apartments in the neighbourhood, which surprisingly are at an equal or comparable distance as the mansions from the park. This makes the area not only physically accessible, but economically accessible for a much larger portion of the population.

Another interesting thing about this neighbourhood is that local businesses (specifically the ones in the nearby plaza which serves a large portion of the community) have adjusted their usual business practices to serve its residents' individual needs, encouraging people to leave their cars at home and walk instead by making it easier for their customers to do so. For example, while most grocery stores to everything they can to prevent shoppers from removing shopping carts (an expensive investment) from the premises, the grocery store in the plaza allows its local shoppers to use its carts to take their groceries home. People don't have to return them once they are finished either; they simply leave them at the side of the road and the store sends out its employees a few times a day to walk through the neighbourhood and pick them up to return them to the store. When I first saw this I was amazed that the store would not only allow this, but make it easy for people to do so; however, it makes so much sense and I think it is an idea that many of the authors in the SUDR would applaud.

5. In many ways, this neighbourhood where the rink is located is so picturesque that it almost feels like it belongs in a Norman Rockwell painting or a 1950s television sitcom. Not only would it attract local area residents, but (as evidenced by my appearance at the site) it also draws people from other neighbouring communities as well. Unlike the St. George's Golf and Country Club, this area felt non-exclusive and inviting, even though the homes in the surrounding neighbourhood were just as nice (and in some cases, nicer) than some of the homes that surrounded the golf course. For whatever reason, instead of closing itself off to outsiders this neighbourhood has decided, either consciously or subconsciously, to let other people enjoy their facilities, giving others who might otherwise not have access to such an area a chance to enjoy a bit of nature in the city.

The position of the rink within the valley gives the people using it a very unique perspective. The south and west sides of the rink are recessed within the valley, making you feel almost enclosed and protected, while the north side of the rink is exposed, allowing you to look down into the valley below. Tall trees line the east side of the property to create a barrier that somewhat blocks the neighbouring houses from view, so you feel enclosed and protected. I can imagine that in the right conditions - especially once the snow starts falling and blanketing the area in a layer of white - skating at this rink could make you feel like you are skating on a small frozen pond at the cottage or some idyllic countryside pond.

In contrast, looking out to the east from the rink, one can see the Toronto skyline peeking through the trees. While it may seem as though this would help to remove the visitor from the more natural surroundings in the immediate area, because of the angle and perspective it acts more like a pretty backdrop than an intrusion. It lurks just far enough in the distance to serve as a reminder of the city next door, but far enough away so as not to distract. It actually made it feel much further away than I would otherwise picture in my head, and helped me feel more removed from the city than it did from nature.

One aspect of the rink that I thought was extremely demonstrative of a human/nature relationship is the way it is a useful space for activities in both winter and summer. The problem with many of our city's green spaces is that they are essentially useless in the winter. Ice and snow make it hard to find a suitable place to sit, shelter is hard to find when the weather gets unbearable, and almost all of the facilities available in the spring and summer become unusable with the first snowfall. The Humber Valley Skating Rink solves all of these problems, proving a space that is well-maintained even during the most inclement weather so it is easy to access. Instead of hibernating in our dens and waiting for the first sign of spring to let us know that it is once again safe to emerge, areas like this encourage people to get out and experience the best parts of nature in all seasons. As much as we would like to pretend otherwise, snow and ice are a significant part of our natural surroundings in Toronto for a large portion of the year - we might as well find more ways to embrace it!

Site 3: The Clubhouse at St. George's Golf and Country Club

1. The next site I went to was another historic Etobicoke location just a few kilometres north of Montgomery's Inn on Islington Avenue: the clubhouse at St. George's Golf and Country Club. This large and beautiful building, built in the late-1920s, sits a top a small hill, allowing members to look down over a portion of the golf course as they use the facilities. Elevated above the rest of the area, it almost resembles a small castle with its many spires and ivy-covered walls. A sign with the club's name and symbol first greets visitors at the bottom of the long driveway leading up to the clubhouse. There is a large, well-lit parking lot at the top of the driveway that is almost entirely surrounded by tall trees. In addition to the decorative lampposts, I can see all kinds of accent lighting: four waist-high lightposts surround a tall flag pole and stone base which serves as a focal centrepiece for the property, ground lights illuminate the trees, a chandelier hangs above the main entrance, and a decorative sconce hangs on the fence that separates the club property from the surrounding neighbourhood. Walking around the property I spy two excessively large and ugly cigarette disposals that seem out of place and draw my attention to an electrical socket in the wall. A fire hydrant sits conspicuously on the meticulously manicured lawn.

It is a Monday afternoon, approximately 3:00 p.m., when I am observing the clubhouse and the weather is quite nice for an early November day. At the same time, it is a bit cool for a leisurely game of golf, so I suspect only the die-hard golfers are on the course. The fact that there are only a few cars in the parking lot supported my theory. Two women arrive together while I am there and make their way into the building. About 15 minutes later a man walks out of the building to his car. The area felt peaceful, but the only thing I can hear while walking around the property is the sound of cars passing by on Islington Avenue.

2. The outside of the clubhouse is not very busy; understandable, considering that it is a Monday afternoon in November. The only activities I see as I walk around are people either going into or leaving the clubhouse. As I look over on to the golf course, I can see evidence of people golfing as there are a few carts on the green, but there is no evidence of any kind of activity taking place in this area other than people making their way inside to do whatever it is that wealthy people do at a golf clubhouse. Finally, just as I was leaving the area, I saw a father and his two children playing on the very edge of the property. One of the children would take the baseball cap off of the father's head while he chased them around the lawn and through the trees to retrieve it. However, they strayed too far from the sidewalk, seeming to obey the invisible, yet obvious, barrier the trees create around the property.

3. The golf course the clubhouse serves covers a large portion of the neighbourhood, and is surrounded almost entirely by well-kept, upper-middle class homes. There is a definite air of exclusivity at this site, and I was sure everyone else would be able to tell that I didn't belong. The entire time I was observing this location I was nervous that someone was going to come out of the clubhouse and ask me to leave. Failing that, I was sure that the security cameras the sign warned me about upon entering (and which I could clearly see surrounding the property) were monitoring every step I took around the premises. At the same time, I figured if someone did give me grief about being there, they would probably show me some mercy if I explained that I was just a student working on an assignment, so I simply tried to blend in and continued to take pictures.

4. Once again, I was reminded of the first nature/second nature distinction we have discussed while I was observing this site. In my mind, golf courses are a perfect example of second nature. There is an abundance of nature and lush greenery, but it requires a ridiculous amount of effort and resources to keep it looking that way. Trees are not allowed to grow naturally, but are placed in very specific positions for specific reasons. Almost every aspect of the "natural" environment is completely controlled, down to the direction the grass is mowed and the sand is raked. Although it many be one of the largest "green" spaces in the area, upon deeper reflection it is hard to think of such an area as "natural" in any significant way.

One of the authors from the SUDR that I thought about after visiting this site was Ian L. McHarg, not only because he grew up in Scotland and has probably seen more than his fair share of emerald green golf courses, but also because of his emphasis on integrating nature into city planning and urban design in his writing. While the area may be entirely controlled right now, it is easy to see how when the course was being planned the area's topography was fully integrated into the design, using the rolling hills and valleys to create challenging holes and using the Humber River as a natural property line and water hazard. I like to think that McHarg would have approved of this site if he had the chance to see it.

5. As many of the homes in the neighbourhood are built in a similar style with similar materials, the clubhouse does not stand out as much as Montgomery's Inn. In contrast to Montgomery's Inn, where the surrounding buildings seem to have been built up in spite of the existing architecture, the neighbourhood that makes up this area appears to have been built in full consideration of the existing architecture. The surrounding homes almost feel like an extension of the club. On the other hand, very much like Montgomery's Inn, there is no question that there would be a lot less green space for residents if the golf course was not a part of the neighbourhood.

Similar to the HBBH, it is easy to see how the people who designed the course had a specific idea of what "nature" meant to them and how this view was to be incorporated into its design. The design of a golf course tends to frame nature in a specific way, and this site is no different. The person who shoots nine holes each Sunday at the golf course with his or her friends is going to have a very different idea of what nature in the city means than would a person who jogs through the HBBH every day or a person who lives in the heart of downtown Toronto.

Notwithstanding my question of whether such a space can even be called "natural," I still think that it does help the people lucky enough to have access to foster a stronger relationship with nature. People (especially golfers) often think of a golf course a large slice of "nature in the city" with its open green spaces, large green trees, and sparkling water features, and I think this perception is fair. I am not a golfer myself, but I understand its appeal when I see courses such as this. It may not be "natural" in the true sense of the word, yet by incorporating almost entirely natural features into its design, it helps the visitor better appreciate their "natural" surroundings.

Unfortunately, while the introduction of the club to the area certainly guaranteed a large amount of green space in the area for years to come, access to this large piece of land is restricted, which means that only a few privileged people are lucky enough to fully benefit from its existence. This really limits the amount of good such an area can do for its residents. Consequently, if the area is a drain on resources (as golf courses almost always are) but the residents don't get to reap the rewards of such destruction, it potentially does more to harm human/nature relationships than it does to foster them. In other words, while the golf course has the ability to encourage a human/nature relationship for a select few, in most cases, the majority gets left behind.

Site 2: Montgomery's Inn

1. Montgomery’s Inn sits on the south-east corner of the busy intersection at Islington Avenue and Dundas Street in Etobicoke, on the shore of Mimico Creek. The building was originally the home (and farm) of Thomas Montgomery and his family, in addition to serving as a local tavern, inn, and town meeting site in the mid-1800s. Today it is both a museum, teaching visitors about everyday 19th century life in the region, and one of the few remaining examples of Loyalist/late-Georgian architecture in the city. The Inn is strikingly different from the buildings on the other three corners of the intersection – a gas station, a restaurant, and an apartment building. Many signs greet visitors upon their arrival, providing them with information about the Inn and its upcoming activities. The building is elevated and sits extremely close to the sidewalk and the road, and while there is a stone retaining wall, there is no fence or other indication that the area is off limits or restricted. The Union Jack flies from a tall flagpole at the front of the building, helping maintain the illusion that you are stepping back into the pre-Confederation era. A path runs behind the west side of the building, through a densely-treed park and along the Mimico River. The building is not entirely original, with the building parking lot on the east side of the Inn and an obviously new wooden addition built on the south. Additionally, there are many indications of (somewhat hidden) modern intervention on the property: an air conditioning unit, what looked like some sort of gas pipe, and a plastic storage bin. Two picnic benches have been provided for people to sit and enjoy the scenery while they visit the Inn, with garbage and recycling bins close by for food and drink wrappers.

The sun was almost blinding, so there was no need for any additional lighting; however, I still notice many different artificial light sources when I am there. In addition to the city lampposts that line the roadway, there is a decorative lamppost on the property and two ground lights that point towards the building to illuminate it at night. The traffic in the area is extremely heavy, so the only thing I can hear is cars and their associated noises: music from a loud stereo, beeping, and even a small fender bender that happened right in front of the Inn, just a few metres from where I was standing at the time. Other than the drivers in their cars, the only people in the area were a few pedestrians and city employees.

2. I saw so few people outside of the Inn during my visit, if it wasn’t for several cars in the parking lot, I may have thought it was closed. Yet at the same time, the area in which the Inn is located was extremely busy. The lights at the intersection were being replaced, so there were two police officers directing traffic and about a half dozen city employees working on the new installation. The resulting mid-afternoon Monday traffic was extremely heavy. There is a high school a few hundred metres down the path that runs along the shore of Mimico Creek, and a few minutes into my visit a teenage girl walked up the path and over to the nearby bus stop. A teenage boy took the same route about five minutes later. The occasional pedestrian would walk by on the sidewalk. We all watched as the two people involved in the car accident got out to inspect the damage, and later, when one of the police officers left his post directing traffic to direct the two people involved to the nearest Collision Reporting Centre.

3. The biggest thing that struck me about this location was how empty it was, even though it was right in the middle of an area that otherwise seemed completely chaotic to me. While the surrounding area was entirely filled with motion and movement and noise, other than a few cars in the parking lot there was almost no sign of life at the Inn at all. This actually made me a bit sad, because I imagine the Inn's tavern must have been quite a happening place during its heyday. While the building has been beautifully maintained and restored to its original 19th century state, the life and energy that once existed within its walls will almost certainly never be replicated. I'd also like to think that if I went at a different time, when the work on the traffic lights had been completed and all lanes re-opened, that the area would be much more peaceful. It would be much easier to appreciate how beautiful the property is and how well the building itself has been preserved if the road traffic in the area wasn't so intrusive.

4. Montgomery's Inn is a unique place because not only is it a combination of nature and development, it is also a combination of the country and the city. On both the inside and outside, it is an example of a typical mid-1800s farm home, but the property is completely engulfed by signs of modern urban development. As such, this site brings to mind some of the first pieces we read in class from the SUDR that told the history of the concept of a sustainable city. In many ways the original property would have been following many of the concepts those authors discussed. The family farm provided food not only for the Montgomery family, but also the many visitors and guests the Inn received. What could not be consumed was presumably traded and sold for other necessities. In many ways it was self-sustaining and sustainable, and a nice example of a combination of the city (the inn and tavern) and the countryside (the farm) in one location.

Thanks to the sheer number of cars that passed by during my visit, and exasperated by the car accident that happened practically over my shoulder (and far too close for comfort), I could not help but think of Newman and Kenworthy's piece about traffic calming while reflecting about my visit to the Inn. It was quite amazing to see what some unfunctioning traffic lights and an unavailable left turn lane can do to early afternoon suburban traffic. I could block out the 30-story apartment buildings and rows of strip malls lining the streets, but the traffic was so intrusive on the space that I found it hard to enjoy what was otherwise a beautiful and interesting location.

5. Montgomery’s Inn is supposed to be a piece of "untouched" history, and while much of the building is original (or restored to an original state), its location at such a busy intersection makes it hard to maintain this illusion while standing outside, listening to the cars whizz by. The very thing that makes the building inviting and welcoming - i.e. the lack of obstructions such as fences or dense bushes that generally protect most important buildings from vandals or other unwanted damage - also leaves it exposed to all the modern intrusions that infest the area. For example, the Inn's property is beautifully maintained with many trees and plants and local wildlife on the grounds, and you can enjoy it while you eat your lunch on one of the two picnic benches the Inn has provided for guests. However, if you face the wrong way you will see the gas station or an apartment multiplex - not very natural. And even if you do get the good view, it will be hard to lose yourself in nature when the constant hum of cars is the most dominant sound you will hear.

At the same time, it is not hard to imagine what might have become of this area if the Inn had not been maintained by the family for over a century and then converted into a museum in the mid-1900s. The museum is on a relatively large piece of land (especially compared to other homes in the area) and with the exception of the parking lot to the east and the new addition to the south, the property quite possibly looks very close to what it did when Thomas Montgomery and his family lived there. The farm that once fed his family and guests is long gone, but the property is still full of trees and the creek still runs behind it.

On the other hand, the rest of the surrounding area has been completely built up, and other than a few local parks, there is exponentially more concrete than green space. Presumably, this was not the only family residence or farm in the area during the mid-1800s, but one would have trouble finding any evidence of that today. By preserving Montgomery's Inn and the property on which it is located, the City (and the Montgomery family) has also preserved a small piece of green space for the local residents and visitors in an otherwise entirely urban area. For many area visitors (especially the communities to the south and west of the Inn, which are made up almost entirely of highrise apartment buildings) this site is one of the few places they have to escape their concrete box and restore a sense of environmental equilibrium in their lives.

Finally, Montgomery's Inn also helps people connect with nature through the many educational programs and activities it hosts, helping to remind visitors of a time when most people did have a much stronger connection to the natural environment. Living in the city, we have become completely removed from all of the processes that allow us to enjoy the lifestyle we do today. Meat comes neatly packaged into pre-portioned and selected cuts for us at the grocery store, produce comes plucked from the plant and washed clean of dirt, and almost everything else has at least one ingredient that is impossible to pronounce. I remember visiting Montgomery's Inn on a school fieldtrip as a child many years ago, and we all sat around the kitchen counter and helped prepare a chicken. It was the first time I ever even heard the word "giblets," let alone seen them being used. It was a small thing, but it also helped show that it is always possible to have a better connection with the food we eat.

Site 1: The Humber Bay Butterfly Habitat at Humber Bay Park East

1. The Humber Bay Butterfly Habitat (HBBH) is located in Humber Bay Park East, a large waterfront park on the shore of Lake Ontario in the west end of Toronto. The Habitat takes up a fairly large area in the Park – perhaps as much as a few acres – and is split into two main areas: a stormwater management area to the west and a “home garden” area to the east. A long bridge spans across the stormwater management area and has three piers running perpendicularly off one side. The three piers (which are blocked off to public access) essentially split the north half of the inlet into four separate areas, and each has one or two (for a total of six) small floating man-made nesting habitats to accommodate some of the migrating bird species that come to the area. The “home garden” area focuses on the local wildlife with winding paths running through the tall grass and bushes, and is built around a well-manicured semi-circular sitting area featuring several outdoor art pieces made of welded steel. A roadway runs along the lakeshore, behind the Habitat and throughout a large portion of Humber Bay Park East.

The entrance to the HBBH is clearly demarcated with two deliberately placed inscribed boulders on either side of the path. In addition to this, the Park rules and regulations and other legal notices are posted on several signs just to the side of the path that leads into the Habitat so anyone who enters is aware of the proper conduct. There are also signs and placards set up along the distance of the trail, with information about the Park and Habitat and the local flora and fauna that one can find within them. Most of the paths are paved, although some of the smaller paths are not, and wooden fences or large boulders that line the paths ensure that visitors don’t stray too far. There is an abundance of plants, grasses, wildflowers and trees in the area, but most of the green grasses and plants have turned to brown thanks to the colder weather and shorter days of fall. I spent about two hours at this site, between approximately 3:00 and 5:00 p.m. on a Sunday in early November. There was enough natural light when I was there, but the entire area is lined with decorative lampposts at regular intervals so the area can be used by residents after dark. The weather that day was fairly typical (pleasant) early-autumn weather: approximately 14 degrees Celsius and partially cloudy. The hum of cars speeding by on Lakeshore Boulevard, The Queensway, and Gardiner Expressway created a white noise that constantly permeated the background. People were consistently moving through the area, and I could hear them talking, laughing, and even singing as I made my way through the paths. The sounds of civilization would be occasionally interrupted by a seagull squaking or a duck landing in the bay. A dog barked in response to both once or twice. Less obvious sounds, like chains on dog leashes or people’s footsteps on the gravel paths, added to the clatter.

2. While there may not have been as much pedestrian and vehicular traffic as there would have been on a warm and sunny summer afternoon, several people of all ages and races were visiting the Habitat that day, the majority of them simply walking through the paths and enjoying the site and the mild autumn weather. Almost everyone I saw was in groups of two or more; friends, couples, and families all coming to spend the afternoon together at the Park. Two young women were sitting on the first park bench I approached, having a conversation as a couple passed by. A few people were jogging, several rode passed by on bikes, and a few more on inline skates. One woman was singing a tune as she made her way through the winding paths. I saw a few people taking pictures while I was there; one man in particular had an expensive looking camera and was taking a picture of a beaver that (much to my delight) decided to make an appearance as I arrived.

3. One of the first things I noticed when I arrived at the Habitat was the smell of the Mr. Christie factory that sits on the opposite side of Lakeshore Boulevard, less than a half kilometre away. Depending on which way the wind is blowing, in this area you tend to smell either the Mr. Christie factory, Lake Ontario (i.e. rotting fish), or the sewage treatment plant on The Queensway, so I suppose it was my lucky day. The occasional car passed by as I walked to the HBBH entrance, but it seemed fairly quiet for a Sunday afternoon, most likely because of the dropping temperature. Another thing I notice once I start touring is the way the designers have tried to hide or obscure the signs of human interference in the area. Man-made elements are scattered throughout the Habitat, such as the welded steel art piece or the informational placards and signs I mentioned above, but they have all been carefully incorporated into the design. On the other hand, those essential, more utilitarian elements (such as utility boxes) that are necessary to run the Habitat are placed well off the pathway or hidden in the dense plants in order to maintain the illusion of "pure" nature for the visitor.

It is now obvious to me that the Habitat has been carefully designed in the hopes of eliciting a very specific response from the people who visit. The plants have all been specially selected and planted, yet they are arranged and cared for in such a way that it all feels very wild and unrestrained. In some areas the trees and grasses grow above eye level, blocking out many of the signs of civilization that linger in the background. Several paths fork into different directions allowing people to feel like they are taking a random route of their choosing, yet they all lead to the same place in the end, ensuring they everyone who visits follows a very specific route and sees everything the designers wanted them to see. They were actually quite successful in their approach, as I found myself feeling a bit lost once or twice, even with the bare trees and thinning grasses that allowed me to orient myself much easier than would have been for someone visiting in the full growth of summer.

4. I couldn’t help but think of the “first nature/second nature” distinction we discussed in class when I walked through the Habitat. Years of pollution and neglect destroyed almost all of the "first nature" that once existed on those shores, and in response, many city residents likely wrote it off as a potential weekend destination. Finally recognizing its potential, the City has gone out of its way to restore the area by creating an area of “second nature,” providing visitors with a slice of nature in the city while the Toronto skyline lurks consistently in the background. I found it interesting that the fact that the developers used only native species of plants in their design was continuously emphasised, considering that in many cases they had to re-introduce species that had previously been removed or destroyed. And when they were finally returned to the area, it was done in such a way that was specific and deliberate, carefully designed, planted and manicured.

Anne Whiston Spirn's analysis of nature within the city in the SUDR also came to mind during my visit. While nature is an integral part of life in the city, it often seems as though it is an afterthought in many aspects of development. A small concrete base filled with soil and a few potted plants often passes for a "green space." Living in a large city like Toronto, we often spend far more time in our "granite garden" than we would like. The creation of spaces like the HBBH, where nature is not an afterthought but rather the motivation for its existence, helps to make the city a more liveable place and encourages people to develop a better relationship with their environment. I also thought of the Pucher, Komanoff, and Shimek article about a "bicycling renaissance" when I stopped trying to count the amount of people who rode past me on bikes and inline skates. This area is extremely bike- and skate-friendly, with its paved paths and beautiful scenery, and its very design encourages people to get out of their cars and enjoy the area using a "human-powered" mode of transportation for a change.

5. The Humber Bay Butterfly Habitat is interesting because it was specifically created to set up a human/nature relationship by being a man-made "green space" in the middle of the concrete sea that is Toronto. At the same time, it serves a practical purpose for the city. For example, the stormwater management facility collects runoff and filters the water through a series of screens before returning it to Lake Ontario. This could have been an ugly, intrusive addition to the area, but instead it was artistically incorporated into the design, creating a place for the people to enjoy as well. The Habitat also serves an educational purpose, teaching visitors about the local environment with its series of informational signs and placards. Perhaps most importantly, entry to the area is entirely free of charge which means that even the poorest families can spend an entire day there. The most prohibitive factor to its access may be its location, but it is completely accessible by car and the TTC has a bus route that can drop you off almost right at the entrance.

The area has been created with the specific intent of creating a space of nature within the city, but it has been done in a very deliberate and controlled manner. By the very nature of their construction, it is apparent that visitors are not encouraged to walk off the paths that wind through the area. People are expected to take a very specific path and follow a specific plan while they are there. Certain areas encourage the visitor to pass through quickly, and others encourage the visitor to stop and observe their surroundings. Seating areas are deliberately placed along the way, increasing the chance that people will stop in specific spots. In other words, instead of allowing people to experience nature organically, the people who designed the HBBH have framed nature so the visitor experiences it in a way that corresponds with their vision. The designers have essentially taken the "wild" out of the wildlife. They have ensured that people will feel close to nature - but not too close.

At the same time, the area is "natural" enough to help make the visitor feel like they have escaped the city environment, providing an almost rural respite in one of the most urban areas in North America. For people who don't have a cottage or who don't have the money to go one a camping trip, areas like this may be one of the few ways those Torontonians can find some sort of connection to nature. I don't think it is a coincidence that the area is surrounded by condominiums. Speaking from experience, the closest many condo owners tend to be able to get to nature is a few potted plants on the window sill. Areas like this, essentially in their backyard, allow those people some respite from the almost claustrophobic experience that can be condo living.

The HBBH is an example of an urban site that tries very hard to foster a beneficial and co-operative human/nature connection, and in my opinion, does a good job of doing so. While many aspects of the area are completely controlled, the designers also incorporated enough aspects of the natural environment into their project to make the HBBH feel more "natural" than many other green spaces in the city. The design of the Habitat encourages people to get out of their cars and be physical, and the attractiveness of the area encourages people to become more aware of their connection to nature. For a lifelong city dweller like myself, seeing a beaver in the wild like I did during my visit was a pretty special experience, and I could tell that many other people who also spotted him felt the same. Real life experiences like that can not be replicated or simulated.