It’s a stormy day here in New Orleans, but I made it to and from work on my bike before the downpours. I stopped on my way home to snap a picture of this topiary bull in the yard of a fancy house at St. Charles and Arabella. I pass it every day, but I only notice it once in awhile because it is tucked away behind fences and plants. But it is clearly so well-tended that it is meant to be seen. So today I saw it. It’s a bull–how do they do that? I’m sure there’s a metal frame under all that foliage, propping up the animal that’s made of plants. But then I noticed the plants around it–the boxy hedge, the trimmed evergreen shrub, the tidy grass. We shape our nature all the time; we only notice it when it’s a shape we aren’t used to. The scene reminded me of the many ways our habitats are shaped for us by hands we don’t see and plans we don’t notice. Yes, the plants on St. Charles are lush and lovely, but there’s no mistake that they are along this street and not, say, Claiborne.