As I walk, I see gates everywhere—most closed, some locked, a few standing open. And beyond the gates, rhododendrons dressed in mauve and fuscia and pink, fountains of canary yellow forsythia blossoms, tidy rows of a purple flower I can’t name. The beauty draws me; the gate keeps me out.
There’s someone on my bike route with a fun sense of humor. I’ve never met them, but each time I bike, the trail of lightness they’ve left behind makes me smile. Midway through my bike ride, these folks’ lighter way of seeing the world reminds me to look up and