We all have a place in our lives that is special, magical, grounding or “home”. For many folks I know, that special place would be Disneyland, one of the Seven Wonders of the World or a building of worship. Although I enjoy those places as well, none of them resonant with me as much as a visit to the Morton Arboretum in Lisle, IL.
I have absolutely no memory as to how I first came upon the place. Maybe my folks took me there when I was young or it was a school outing, but I do know that I have been enjoying its splendor for decades and I have been a proud member for the past ten years straight, which makes me some kind of special super-dee-duper member now. I go as often as time permits and I refer to it as my “church”.
I have scads of stories to share about my adventures at the Arboretum, but I will try to keep my thoughts to some of the more poignant moments. My first true memories of the place are when I would take my kids there, especially when they were in Boy Scouts. As they aged, I had to find fresh blood, so I would take my friend’s kids or my niece with her children. It has always been so rewarding to share my wonder of nature with children and by taking kids along, I got to play in the children’s garden without looking like a big weirdo.
No matter how many times I visit, I am always spying something new. However, my favorite spot to visit is Lake Marmo. I believe it is on the west side of the property and there is a special turnoff to go to its location. One of my friends who lives right near there and visits quite often, had never known about its location. It was so very special to share it with her, but it is a place I love to share with all who are kind enough to make the trip with me. Along the edge of the lake is a tree I refer to as “my tree”. It is a Freeman Maple, but to help me remember its name I call it the Morgan Freeman Maple tree. I feel connected to this particular tree because of how many of its roots are above ground, exposed for all to see. That is how I feel about my emotions. I wear my heart out on my sleeve, there for all to see, raw, exposed, vulnerable. However, its roots run deep, so it is sturdy and strong and can withstand the harsh weather the Chicagoland area enjoys frequently. Once again, this is something I can identify with. It gives me great joy to sit beneath its shade and peer into the lake’s edge to see what life stirs below. Usually, I just see fish and bugs, but sometimes, if I’m very lucky, I will see a turtle. Turtles have a special meaning for me, let me explain.
I’ll never forget the first time I told John, “The Pilot” about the arboretum. His response was, “Let me get this straight…trees.” I explained that it was much more than trees and was able to get him to make a visit with me. It was winter and it was cold. His ears were turning red as we walked the grounds, but I think he was beginning to see why this place was so special to me. We would visit again in the spring, summer and best of all, autumn. Autumn is when the trees are exploding with color, the air is crisp and they decorate with piles and piles of pumpkins. I took John there often, but one day was extra special and it involved turtles.
We had started the day at the park near my home. It has a pond and I was pleasantly surprised to spy turtles there that day. It’s not like I had collected turtles, but there is something so wonderful about seeing them out in nature, sort of like frogs, but even more so because they tend to hang out together and sun themselves on the rocks. That may seem mundane, but I think they are special. Next, we drove to the Arboretum. We were wandering along a path near Lake Marmo, but south of it. There’s a little river and waterfall there and guess what we saw…turtles! I don’t know what possessed me, but after the second turtle sighting, I had an epiphany and said to John, “If we have a third turtle sighting today, you have to marry me.” Needless to say, he looked at me as if I had just threatened his very existence and insisted that another sighting would not happen.
We left that area and went to the Visitor’s Center. It is a beautiful dining area with a wall of glass overlooking another body of water named Meadow Lake. John and I walked the path along the lake and I would stop periodically to look for turtles. He kept telling me that I’m not going to find any, but I was determined. We were about halfway around the lake, when I stopped to see what appeared to be a moving object. “I think I see a turtle.” John insisted that I did not, but I moved closer to the edge of the water and strained my eyes… A-ha! It was a turtle, several in fact. “You have to marry me.” I said in a schoolyard bully chant. John couldn’t believe it, but he had to admit, it was indeed a third turtle sighting.
From that moment on, we would see turtles everywhere. Even on that very same day, at the restaurant we went to for dinner, there was a young man wearing a t-shirt that made him look like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. On TV, at stores and other parks, turtles kept popping up everywhere, it was wonderful fun. After that, I did start to collect them, but as you all now know, the story did not end in marriage, quite the contrary. However, turtles also represent perseverance, so I continue to wear my turtle bracelet and enjoy the pieces of my collection because slow and steady, will win the race and I am determined to find true everlasting love, for real next time.
Another very special connection I have with the Arboretum is about all the times I spent there with my dad. He wasn’t able to walk well, so we spent most of our times there driving along the roads and listening to classical music on the radio. It’s not like my dad and I were besties, but we did enjoy each other’s company and he instilled in me a long time ago the joy of just going for a drive, no where in particular and listening to music as we took in the scenery. Most of our adventures concluded by enjoying a cheeseburger or an ice cream somewhere, but more times than not, we just like to go for a ride and on many occasions, we would end up at my “church”.
Autumn was always special, but the most magical moment was one Christmas morning, maybe ten years ago when we had nothing much to do and I wanted to visit “my tree”. It had snowed overnight and it was still early enough in the day that when we arrived, it was surrounded by a virgin carpet of white, glistening snow. Dad wasn’t going to be able to walk with me, so I promised I wouldn’t take too long and he stayed in the warm car as I laid the first footprints around that lake on a prefect Christmas morning. I felt so blessed to experience its majestic stillness, taking in the crisp, clean air and truly appreciating the meaning of that special day. I returned to the car teary eyed and filled with joy. I don’t recall if we stopped for a cheeseburger, but I do know that we enjoyed some delicious ham, scalloped potatoes and green beans that day, our traditional Christmas meal.
My dad had a favorite tree as well, the weeping willow. He told me about the one they had by his house when he was a kid and every single time we drove by the willows at the Arboretum, he would tell me his story again. When he passed, it was his request that I mix his ashes with those of my mother. I decided to take some of those ashes and spread them around dad’s weeping willow. I made up my own ceremony and walked around the tree three times slowly sprinkling them. Every time I visit the Arboretum, I make it a point to visit dad’s tree and honor their memory.
I visited the Arboretum today and while driving its roads, I listened to the classical music station. They were having a donation drive, so I decided to pullover and call in my donation. They asked me if I wanted to make a comment about what their radio station meant to me. As I choked back the tears, I told the lady taking my donation that I was at the Morton Arboretum and that I was listening to their station, just like I had always done with my dad. She said that that was a special comment to share and I told her to be certain to plug the Morton Arboretum, because it’s a very special place, she agreed.
I went to the “Fragrance Garden” today, someplace I had never been before. It had a beautiful fountain and there were coins in it. I decided to make my own wish as well. Being that it is a fountain at the Morton Arboretum, my “church”, home to some of my parent’s ashes, maybe there’s a chance I’ll get my wish. I can’t share it with you, because then it wouldn’t come true, but when it does, I’ll be certain to tell you all about it. I promise.
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