Houston hosts an enchanted fairyland. Not literally—sorry to disappoint, fantasy fans—but it certainly looks like it could house flitting pixies and unicorns lazily nibbling on live oak leaves. Tucked away between the Museum District and Rice Village like a high-end Hobbiton, between the North and South Boulevards and Mandell and Parkway Streets, the Broadacres section of the Boulevard Oaks neighborhood is one of the city’s most well-loved spots for special-occasion photos such as engagements, weddings, quinceañeras, and graduations (Rice and University of St. Thomas are both nearby).

Broadacres is “one of my clients’ most favorite and popular places,” says Morteza Safataj, director of photography at the wedding- and engagement-oriented Said Yes Studios—that’s one of his shots on the cover. “Those trees are awesome. Whenever I’m shooting during the golden hour, with the sun rays coming through the leaves and the branches—that makes interesting lighting for my photos.”

Go to any local photographer’s website and it won’t take long to notice the signature canopy and brick pathways. Safataj estimates that he works there at least once every two weeks, and more than half of his clients request Broadacres, he adds. While on assignments, he often sees other photographers and couples, but there’s enough space and stunning views that nobody has to tussle over the perfect backdrop.

Broadacres holds the honor of being on the National Register of Historic Places, and originally opened to residents in 1923 as a master-planned community. The esplanades are maintained by the Broadacres Civic Association. But beauty like that requires extensive upkeep, particularly given the area’s historic status and natural majesty. In addition to the showstopping scenery dotted by classic gas lamps, the section also encompasses 26 homes (please don’t shoot pics there without permission!) by some of the biggest names in 1920s architecture, such as Birdsall P. Briscoe and John Staub, as well as a private tennis court and a private park.

“It feels like it’s all one big sort of fabric. If you walk from Rice, down Main, and then into Broadacres and Boulevard Oaks and even parts of Southampton, they feel alike,” says local historian (and Houstonia columnist) James Glassman, noting that the whole neighborhood was laid out by the same man, William Ward Watkin, around the same time. “Even to this day, the two architects did much of their best work in Broadacres.… Those houses are still there, a testament to the strength of their designs.”

Yet Broadacres’ most striking feature is the dramatic canopy of live oaks lining the roads and esplanades. Look up and you see more branches than sky. A walk through it almost seems like a tunnel, with brick below your feet and a tangle of centenarian trees above. They grow and reach toward one another almost like lovers—quite an appropriate aesthetic, given the proliferation of engagement and wedding photos taken here.

Safataj launched his career about 14 years ago with an emphasis on landscapes and cityscapes, so his eye is well trained to make fine, subtle notes on the unique features of the space.

“As I’ve shot there all year round, I know how to light in wintertime, how [to use] the natural light in summertime. I can pick the best angle and pick the best time of the day for the session,” he says. “The formation of trees is amazing. Even in the wintertime, it looks lively or alive. The formations help me a lot; I use that as a background for my couples.”

Safataj’s images from beneath the canopy pepper his portfolio. Neither Broadacres nor Boulevard Oaks publicizes the stunning views that make the neighborhood so unique. They really don’t need to. In this instance, word of mouth expands much further than a marketing budget ever could—and, of course, the many social media posts of Houstonians out for a weekend stroll along the boulevard.

“The best way to experience that neighborhood is to get out of your car and walk,” Glassman says. “Like any successful landscaping project, it’s sort of this wonderful nexus of nature and design. It’s such an escape, and I’ve found that it eases my weariness to get out of my car and walk down those streets. You can’t even see the sky, the live oak canopy is so dense. You could almost be subterranean.”

Like Safataj and his subjects, Glassman finds the area especially alluring because it exists as an almost otherworldly natural immersion in a city where steel and concrete reign supreme.