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.
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