Open

The gate is both locked and unlocked. During the winter months, the grounds keeper of a nearby golf course moves the padlocks on the gates from waist to ankle height. This way neighbors can pass through to a winter wonderland in the city. Getting in is easy, but getting there is not for us. We wait for cars rushing to and from the highway to clear and then the dogs and I dash across the avenue. Once inside, the leashes come off and they run through the snow to sniff pine trees and prairie grass. Their run is more like a rabbit hop. Maybe they know that I'm laughing at them. My pac boots keep me aloft until I misjudge the terrain and step deep, nearly losing my balance, and laugh at myself. Walking here brings warmth and energy even on the coldest days. Usually we are alone, but there's evidence of others having been. Sled, ski, and snowboard trails crisscross. On a clear, warmer day I stand face up into the sun, hat removed. The dogs pant as if it's summer. From my sight lines, this man-made valley and rolling hills erase the city and whatever was on my mind before I arrived. We climb up and out, returning to our entrance. We are refreshed and ready now to dash for home.