A week ago, I was travelling back from Pittsburgh, my sweet home of homes and bringing with me four days of freshly made memories. One of them was a return to Phipps Conservatory, a well-known landmark in the East End of Pittsburgh where I grew up. Built in 1893 as a gift to the city, it still stands as glorious as ever, lending pleasure to the city's residents, as was its original intent. I went fairly frequently as a child, but haven't returned since-only in an occasional dream. The place is magical, at once reminding the visitor of America's gilded age from which it sprang while at the same time sharing all the wonder of the world's flora and fauna. Pittsburgh's industrialists always strove to remind its workers of beauty and education, whether through Carnegie's libraries or through the creation of this conservatory by Henry Phipps. There are close to twenty distinct gardens, ranging from a space filled with orchids to a desert room covered with succulents and cacti, to a "parterre de broderie" and the grand Victorian palm court. I have been to many botanical gardens, and though I am truly biased in this case, I can honestly say that Phipps is a masterpiece. Botanists and avid gardeners will undeniably fall in love with it, but artists will thoroughly enjoy capturing its beauty and children will race through it with excitement. So many years had passed since I visited. I won't make the same mistake again.
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