In this area of Copenhagen—where I am now—I noticed that the grass on medians on roads is not meticulously maintained in many places. Living in Dallas and Houston much of my life, I have grown accustomed to medians as a sort of perfect thing that must be mowed, gardened, watered, and cultivated. In those places, much effort is spent on removing all weeds, mowing the grass, and ensuring the edges are perfectly trimmed.
But along the roads here, native plants grow unencumbered. Medians reflect the climate and foliage of the place instead of being made perfect—often out of sorts with the local ecology. The medials feel like the land here. It gives me a sense that people here live with the conditions instead of commanding, sculpting, and dominating them.