DENVER — Denver is objectively less green than other major cities. Our summers are drier than jerky, and our winters—especially the one we’re emerging from — haven’t possessed a level of moisture required for a subsequent bloom.

We’re in a perpetual state of sunny browns and tans, and it’s all because you don’t recycle properly. Just kidding—this isn’t your fault, and I’m not really complaining. The summers of my childhood were spent in my hometown outside Chicago, where the air was as humid and thick as the steam that rises from a hot tub.

But still, the world around me was definitively green. The same can’t be said about the Queen City of the Plains. If you want to cannonball into vegetative beauty, you'll need to visit the glorious oasis of Denver Botanic Gardens.

Located on York Street between 11th and 9th, the first thing you’ll notice is a bizarre building whose appearance might best be described as a church in a sci-fi novel. This is the Boettcher Memorial Tropical Conservatory, whose appearance in growing, dusty Denver had to have been hilarious when doors opened in 1966.

This high-arched building is as humid as the places you’d take spring break, and packed to the brim with over 10,000 square feet of plants that shouldn’t be anywhere near a city like Denver.

When I’m feeling the full force of seasonal depression, blanketed by drab skies and needle-less pines, I often default to a 30-minute tropical vacation and walk through the conservatory. I’d set up a folding beach chair with a sixer of Estrella Jalisco and stay longer if it wasn’t frowned upon.

There’s an array of regional collections scattered across the plaza, including one of dwarf conifers, a conservation garden, Gates Montane garden—the facility's oldest, consisting of high-altitude plants like our famous aspen trees—and my personal favorite reading spot in the whole city: the ponderosa border, a gorgeous section of the gardens showcasing the ponderosa pine, surrounded by wildflowers and other plants native to the Centennial State. 

Then there’s the Bonsai trees. The Bill Hosokawa Bonsai Pavillion is the one place I must visit each time I stop into the Denver Botanic Gardens. Bonsai trees are magical. Our planet’s hardest-working organism shrunk down and trained meticulously—sometimes for years, and other times for decades.

I find myself returning to Pinus flexilis, or the Limber Pine. It may not be the most striking, appearance-wise, but it was collected and brought into this world 56 years ago by the Japanese Garden’s first gardener, Kai Kawahara. It stands proud in its humble plot of dirt, twisted roots and all.

Perhaps my favorite is Juniperus californica, or the California Juniper. One look and you’ll understand why. This bonsai could be the Limber Pine’s kid, as it’s only been training for 13 years. But my god, is it crooked. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that the world’s strongest gust of wind hit this sucker head on, tilting it from upright to a comical over-45-degree angle.

But it was born this way, baby, and it’s not going anywhere. The base, the roots—they’re stronger than you could ever imagine. It is said on the garden’s website that this California Juniper can sprout red and grey fruit. I hope one day I can witness its blossoming.