Morning Light at Childhood's Gate

The snow has not been cleared off all of the pathways at the Arboretum, so to get to this spot, you'd better have your big snow boots on. The drifts are getting taller with each new snow. With another significant storm predicted for Sunday night, I suspect they won't get to the paths anytime soon.

I am paying an early-morning visit to Childhood's Gate, the children's garden at our local Arboretum. There is a fresh inch or two of snow on the Glass House, where the Christmas tree lives. The doors are locked; in fact, they seem pretty well frozen shut. The Christmas tree lights are not lit and I peer inside, see my reflection in the glass. The decorations are off the tree now, and several wreaths are lying nearby; I suspect it will all be gone by my next visit.

The wigwams, too, are covered in light snow, and I look at them and think how thankful I am to live in a warm, snug house, and not inside one of them. The wind picks up the snow and flings it through the wigwam walls. It's a bitter, bitter wind.

I remember the morning that the Dancing Girls came along on one of my visits. They rode their trusty steeds all around these gardens. Such fun we had! I miss those girls and their wild, joyous antics. They would need coats now, I think, pretty little hats and scarves, and tiny pink and purple boots for stomping around in the snow.

I stand in this same spot where four months ago I stood admiring the golden sunflowers. and I watch the sky. The sunrise comes, and it is a vague pink and purpling of the sky: not a shout, but more of a whisper, a quiet good morning.

A visit to the gardens in the morning always lifts my spirits and sends me on my way with a smile. May it ever be so.

The song: Rusted Root, Send Me On My Way.