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Swaddled in Color: A Walk Through the Rainforest Pyramid at Moody Gardens
We descend through a tunnel to the lower level of the pyramid, where we no longer see but glimpses of the white beams that hold up the glass sky. Ripples of light bounce from water onto the underbelly of the bridge we were just on. We walk through drapes of hanging moss that tickles my head, and I admire the vibrant orchids that have been carefully placed among them. We are swaddled in color: purple plumes and magenta foliage, yellow fans and peach-colored palm stalks, scattered throughout every shade of green in every possible shape. Long whistles, raspy trills, and the stuttering cry of loons are joined by the sound of rushing water, and something like the croak of a frog—or perhaps a monkey. Was that an elephant I just heard? The jungle plays tricks on my ears, and holds its secrets from me.
Another Christmas at Sawyer’s Peak
I wake to soft streams of light pouring through the window of my childhood bedroom, and the warmth of a small curled body that has taken liberty to climb under my covers while I slept. Feigning slumber, I peek one eye open to look out the slats of my window blinds, and glimpse a flurry of white fairies littering the crisp winter air. They settle on the lawn and patio like a coating of powdered sugar. I inhale with deep satisfaction. It’s Christmas morning.
One Small Step For Man: NASA Space Center, Houston
Why do we look at the stars? Why are we universally gripped with wonder by specks on black? No difference occurs from age, gender, race, beliefs and background, or what moment in history we were destined to be born into. Lines of ancestors gazed with the same gaping mouths, at the same celestial mysteries, long before we could touch meteors and Mars rocks in the air-conditioned comfort of NASA’s space center. Long before we even knew the twinkling lights in the sky were stars.
A Walk with Moses in the National Aquarium, Baltimore
It is dark. Deep echoes like whale songs and tinkering space rain sounds submerge me, making me feel like a mermaid in a shipwreck. On either side of me, wrapping all the way around the spiraling, descending stairwell, tall panes of glass show me the quiet secrets of the ocean. I am like Moses with the red sea parted in a wall of water to his right and to his left.
Copper Castles Without Kings: Luray Caverns, VA
Long shadows spread across the ceiling from the spears that peer down at me. The fingers of God and Adam touch as a stalactite kisses a stalagmite. Drapery of stone melts down in orange sheets like icing, transparently glowing from the lights behind them. Spongy coral-like rocks adorn the ground below me and the ceiling above, giving the impression of being submerged in the depths of an empty ocean. I look up and realize the outside world—present, modern day—is just above my head, oblivious upon the crust.