My Weekend in Chicago

August 22, 2025

It’s almost the end of summer.

Caldwell Woods, See the little white butterfly flying in the Black-eyed Susans

I get up at 6 a.m. on Saturday to head to my favorite “Pilates on steroids class” in the West Loop. It’s raining. I wonder if the plants need water in the community garden in Englewood. The rain stops. The sun comes out. It’s starting to get hot.

Then I drive down 94-East to Englewood to water the Social Change’s urban garden. I meet a neighbor who offers his hose through the back yard to fill up the rain water barrel. You think you’ve collected so much water from the rain, but it never seems like enough. We talk for a bit and check on the plants. Later, he comes back and offers me water or a Coke as I work.

Out come four bounding kittens—teenagers by now—chasing me between the plants. One tries to grab my toes in my sandals and then tugs at my bag. Soon they’re distracted by butterflies, birds, and all my movement. Too cute. I leave them a little bucket of water just in case.

Next stop is the Englewood farmers’ market. As I walk from my car, a woman waiting for the bus proudly shows off her fresh vegetables to another rider. When I arrive, there are so many shoppers I have to take a number to wait my turn. In the middle of the market, at least thirty seniors are under a tent, caught up in a lively pop-up game of bingo. People are talking, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company.

I swing by Bronzeville to check in on a friend’s place.

Then I head back to the West Loop to see a friend. We sit on her rooftop among white hydrangeas. A man nearby is reading his book; two younger folks are stretched out on beach chairs baking in the sun. We enjoy cheese, fruit, and good conversation. Eventually I realize how tired I am and head home to tend my own garden before dinner.

The next morning, I head up North to my favorite “Pilates on steroids” class. After class, I stop by a neighborhood grocery store for pita and hummus.

I come home and weed my unruly blackberries and honeysuckles from climbing my neighbor’s fence. Little neighbor arrives home, runs over to pull the wagon and asks a for fresh blackberry for each hand. I take little neighbor back to Mama to ensure that the fruit is washed before eating.

Later, my husband and I take a hike in Caldwell Woods along the river—which looks more like a creek these days, it’s so dry. Then we swing by Costco.

Whether I head West, South, East, or North—all I see around me are Chicago neighbors.