Walking Old Footsteps

I went to the arboretum seeking solice in familiarity, but that was not what I found by and large. I recognized the fence outside, some of the trees and plants along the road, but once I turned into the parking lot it was a different place. I remembered an enterance that made me feel like it was deserted, a zigzag enterance that was made for lines to form in, vines and plants crowding around to welcome as I came in. There were two buildings I had no memory of, one had a courtyard with a beautiful waterfall fountain and memorial bricks in the patio, and the other was a small visitors center with a bulletin board and pamphlets more like I remembered. There were horticulturists and interns from the college everywhere, planting, weeding, and mulching. Lots of new plants were being tended near the front of the arboretum and some places were blocked off for construction. I found some of the places I rememered being in with my mother, older gardens, some of them not yet woken from winter. The crepe mertles I had climbed in, that had been so old and towered so high, were gone. I found one, smaller and a little younger, in a little Japanese styled garden. I kissed its trunk. I found a garden with stepping stones over water that I remembered, and a garden with a platform gazebo who roof a tree trunk pressed through. And, happily, I found the rose garden. Full of buds and hopeful young leaves, one or two varieties were blooming. I'll have to go back later when more of them are open. There were so many redbuds and wisterias, I had no idea there were that many different kinds. Every breath brought me a dazzling combination of sweet smells. I was reluctant when I had to hurry home to feed my bird.
M