“I’m sorry, Trudy, I’m not a very good topographer,” she says so innocently, her signature smile framed perfectly by her manicured, dusty blonde hair, lighting up her bright, happy face, with a slight lift to her alto voice. It tells me how happy she is in this moment. It’s a simple statement coming from my guide for the day. Hmmm, is this the time to tell her that when I read maps, in my head I am always going north and that I was relying on her to be my navigator!?
It’s all too true. Back in the day, my brother, while driving my sister and me to see old family friends, handed me the map and told me to navigate. I warned him of my predisposition to always be going north, and he didn’t believe me until, sure enough, he had to turn the car around. Shock, bewilderment–but no longer disbelief–filled his eyes when he snatched the map from my hands. The word got around because I was never asked to read a map again in my family.
But here I am once again reading a map. A panic begins to settle inside of me, that feeling of being put on the spot unprepared. But there she stands, smiling so innocently with childlike wonder in her eyes, looking for more discoveries to be found on our walk.
“Oh, look, Trudy, it’s a butterfly!” And off goes my friend Kathleen Scavone, following its path. I’m not lost. I’m right here on the map, I reassure myself. Look, there are two trails here and here; which one should we take?
“Trudy, come over here, it’s so pretty!” Kathy exclaims. Finally, I give up hope, go with the flow, and catch up with my friend. And hey, it is a trail after all, I reassure myself. Soon, Kathy discovers a rock path in the very heart of the Sonoma Botanical Garden, leading to what sounds like a trickling stream. And I, too, don’t care if we are lost, so I follow deeper into my imagination where foreign fauna don’t trick the eye. Leaves of trees I have never seen before canopy the forest floor. Everywhere I look, there are green shapes speckled with blooming flowers, all new to my wondering eyes. My fingers touch ever so gently a bowing leaf whose name is labeled nearby, but I don’t care–the butterfly is our guide as it flits and flutters away.
The temperature has dropped by at least ten degrees. Kathy and I find a bench to sit on and cool ourselves by the lively creek. It is a welcome respite after the brief walk along the exposed vineyards to a covered picnic area, where birdhouses and wind chimes dance in the breeze. The trail continues from there into the treed garden, where Asian and Native California trees and plant life mingle together, teasing the eye with familiar and new sights.
We take our time to admire and photograph every turn when we make our way up to the summit, where prayer flags greet our arrival. We join them in the view of the rolling hills of Sonoma, far beyond the expansive 67-acre garden, until the still rising sun encourages us to move on, and the dancing flags wave farewell.
But now, here, on this bench, we are gleefully lost.
After some time, I realize our adventure must continue. Other walkers mentioned seeing two pools when we passed them on the trail earlier. Some logic kicks in. Follow gravity, Trudy. Where does water go? Down, of course! Follow the stream and it will take us to the pools! And from there? Well, I will cross that bridge later. I tell Kathy my plan, to follow the trails that follow the stream. She requires little convincing and seems to have an innate trust in me. That part worries me, but I keep it to myself.
So down another trail we walk. Kathy is sublimely ignorant of my internal conflict and stress. I reassure myself: We can’t get truly lost as long as we are on a trail, right? Oh no. Call Search and Rescue, Kathy and Trudy are lost in a garden, I half muse.
Over a bridge, past a gazebo or two, and around another bend in the shaded trail is a glimpse of a pool. In it, lily pads sun themselves while geese honk and swim by them. Serene and captivating seems to be its spell.
Once again, logic and reasoning utter from my lips, suggesting the second and larger pool must be still further below this pool. Sure enough, a larger pool reveals itself beyond the now hot, dusty, exposed trail. A fountain makes this pool alive and full of chatter in peaceful surroundings. A moment to savor, and we do.
A map ahead! I gleefully run towards it, find us once again, and realize there is a long way back or a short way back. The shorter route brings us new things to see, so we take that route. At the Y, go right, then take two lefts, which will lead us to the amphitheater. I repeat the directions over and over in my head, almost feeling some form of confidence and a new sense of assurance, until we come to the first Y. Up ahead is yet another Y, too. Which Y do we turn at? Panic! In this moment, some sense of reasoning comes over me, reminding me to go where we haven’t gone before because that seems the fastest and shortest way back, according to the map, remember? But there are numerous trails to explore, and only luck has brought us this far. I banish that thought, and before I know it, Kathy is ahead of me, oohing and ahhing over a fountain. There she stands in the heart of the arbor, where fresh floral fragrance fills the air. Below is the amphitheater.
“What’s blooming?” I ask following my nose, before realizing the fragrance is above me, expanding on its trellis shelf, shading Kathy and me from the sun.
There are scenes in a movie that are picture-perfect, that sometimes cross over into our own lives. This is my third picture-perfect moment to savor for the day, and I do, with my friend. What bliss!
Another map shows me that one last trail leads us back to where we started. But what direction do we go? I choose once again to go the way we still hadn’t gone before. A short distance later, I see a familiar sight: a white car resembling my own in a parking lot. Shock and a hint of disbelief cross my mind until I can’t deny the reality of where we are.
In truth, we didn’t end up where I thought we would be according to the map. I had accidentally taken us on a shortcut to the parking lot. I remain calm, keeping my glee and shock all to myself. Kathy seems none the wiser, as if she knew all along she was in capable hands. I, on the other hand, can finally exhale a sigh of relief.
A good part of the Sonoma Botanical Garden is shaded. I recommend arriving when it opens to beat the heat. Pack a picnic and enjoy one of their many picnic sites to make a whole morning of your experience. Be sure to grab a map when you purchase your entrance ticket to ensure you don’t miss anything! Or, just go with the flow because in the end, it’s tough to get lost. You can take mine and Kathy’s word for it!
12841 Sonoma Hwy, Glen Ellen, CA 95442
(707) 996-3166
