Winter can’t hide Arboretum’s beauty

The rush of the holidays is over. Today marks the beginning of a new year. If you aren’t a football fan or shopping junkie, take a walk today and see what you can find in the winter garden. Recently I had a couple of hours to kill so I took my walk through the Finch Arboretum.

It was cold with the low winter sun setting over the top of the Sunset Hill. In the rich sunlight, the bare branches of the trees near the park entrance were a rich but subtle mix of browns, bronze, burnished orange and yellow. A few trees like a golden chain and a beech still had leaves that caught the light. The beech’s rusty brown leaves glowed a beautiful shade of amber in the sun.

The sound of moving water drew me to the north side of the open meadow. The frost crunched under my feet. Nobody else was around. The water I was hearing was the little stream that meanders through the arboretum from springs at the top of the hill. The sound and motion of the water were the only signs of life in this spot.

Further along the path and deeper into the shadow of the setting sun, the arboretum’s conifer collection rises up like sentinels guarding the gardens beyond. I half expect a hobbit to step out from between the trees. Wild thickets of snowberry and red stemmed dogwood crowd the path. With their leaves gone, you can see the small animal trails winding under them. In one thicket lies the broken trunk of a birch tree – likely taken out in last year’s storms and now waiting for nature to take its course.

The gnarled trees in the crab apple grove still had fruit on them. It was frozen solid but that didn’t stop a covey of quail from picking through for a snack. The squawks from the guard quail told me I wasn’t welcome at the feast.

At the upper end of the arboretum the little stream divides and disappears into the cliffs – they don’t call the area Garden Springs for nothing. The rocks and stream banks here are covered with bright green moss that almost glows in the otherwise dull landscape.

Suddenly I found myself in the Corey Glen Rhododendron Garden. The great rounded masses of rhododendrons could have been trolls guarding the springs. Many of the plants have curled up their leaves to protect themselves from the cold. The rhododendron garden abruptly ended at the edge of a recent fire that burned along the freeway. Landscapes are fragile.

I was cold. It was time to head back to the warmth of the car. My feet still crunched in the frost, my breath turned into clouds of steam and I again felt I was in touch with the Earth.

Then it appeared. A thin, white pole about 6 feet tall standing alone in a clearing. I thought it was a trail marker but no, in several languages it said simply “Peace on Earth.”

Yes, here in the Arboretum, there is peace.