At night, walking the streets of my Northern California neighborhood, I encounter remnants of modernist ideals, relic forms of mid-century landscaping - plant life cultivated and shaped to fit the lines of the built environment. I find traces here, microcosmic enactments of the Anthropocene - the urge to control and to shape nature for ornamental needs and to bring order to landscapes where wildness might otherwise prevail. I observe the constant cutting of this plant life by homeowner-gardeners, landscaping contractors and Latino day laborers, engaged in a kind of perpetual struggle for the creation of order over verdant chaos. Walking with my camera at night, firing a flash into front gardens to render the details of these alterations visible, I take on a self-assigned role of investigative, forensic photographer, compiling a visual dossier, gathering evidence, of a time and a place, details of the ongoing intent of homeowners and a culture to domesticate nature. If nothing else, this is a personal record, a subjective response to a culture of order, the development of a homogenized suburban ecology, and neighborhood conformity. In an attempt to document my local neighborhood, I explore how the past might manifest in the space of the present, and how it might intersect with questions around land, property, ownership, and dominion. While living in present time and space, we occupy places, yet these same places also have the capacity to occupy us, to reveal indelible and visible traces of history, precedents, and inherited ideals.