Some days are just beautiful. The sky is unbearably blue. The air is cool but the warmth of the sun kisses your cheeks. A slight breeze teases your skin and all seems well with the world.

It is an impulse stop. I am on my way to a work related training. We are headed north after leaving my daughter’s house in Chicago. I see the sign for the Botanical garden and have to stop. My husband is less enthusiastic, but we try to be gracious to one another. It is clearly something I am excited about.

The parking lot is full. That’s strange as it is a Tuesday morning in May. As we enter, we learn it is a free admission day and the tulips are in bloom. That combination explains the crowds.

Nature never disappoints. Each green leaf and colorful bud generates a burst of endorphins. I breathe deep and wrinkle my nose at the slightly sour smell of mulch. The garden smells of earth and lake water. . . cut grass and sweet nectar.

The people disperse as we walk farther into the garden. A carillon sounds at the hour. Dozens of bells play a happy tune. Under the tower it is quite loud and jarring. From afar, it sounds light and airy. A perfect metaphor for the power of distance and perspective.

We take our time among the tulips. So many colors and variations to take in. The diversity is beautiful. Each plant enhancing the other. My brain struggles to process the beautiful blooms and the riot of color.

Children run and play. Couples take photographs of each other in a sea of plants. Elders stroll arm in arm. A sea of people amidst a sea of flowers. The beauty of the Earth laid out like a blanket.

The flowers are breathtaking and fleeting. But I am drawn to the trees. I touch their sturdy trunks and ground myself. The flashy petals will fall. Summer heat will wilt the fragile plants. But these giant, rooted sentinels will shade and protect. I breathe deep and give thanks for my roots. I am ready to leave the garden, refreshed. Some days are just beautiful.