Most of the land here is dry and yellow, dotted with shrubs and grasses that look sharp enough to draw blood. Our destination, though, is starkly different even from a distance.

Decades ago, a young couple bought a plot of land here and began the process of turning it into a beautiful backyard. Water from the nearby river was pulled up in buckets, and the stones of its pathways were hauled by hand, and later by a lone truck as the Ohmes gathered more money. This process continued for years and years, earning fame in some circles as an alpine retreat in a decidedly non-alpine area of Washington State. The Ohmes began charging people to visit the Gardens, which truthfully served to drive up interest rather than reduce it. The gardens became a self-sustaining fixture of the region, and was eventually given over to the county by the Ohmes' son so that it could be well taken care of.

Tall, sweeping conifers line the stone pathways,  their trunks almost completely concealed by young ferns and other groundcover growth. The rushing of small waterfalls is somehow both omnipresent and quiet enough to be lost in the trees, soothing to an ear long since accustomed to the whirring of electricity and household machinery almost designed to draw irritation. Everything here is calm and peaceful, yet another contrast to the world outside.

It's as though this place was designed as a sanctuary. Someplace to relax, to take a breath and finally reflect a little on all that has happened.

I find myself wandering down some of these paths, past a pond the color of polished emeralds and just as reflective. Sand-brown stones conceal the source of the water flowing into the pool, the color of the half-desert just outside these trees. I sit here for a moment, gazing into the waters without a worry in the world, then continue down the path to where a pair of men are hanging up lights.

There's a wedding to be had here soon, where the trees break to reveal a bright blue sky streaked with thin white clouds. I imagine the guests in their nicest clothes, sitting in chairs across the grass and watching as two of their friends, siblings, parents, children make a vow of trust and dedication to each other. I don't know much about this kind of ceremony, but I do like to imagine the dancing. I can almost feel myself spinning in the center of this clearing, arms outstretched, eyes closed and face turned up to bask in the sun's warmth.

Maybe that's what we're meant to do. Dance in the beauty of the moment, enjoy the fruits of the work those before us have done to see us to this instant in time, and work to make sure those who come after us can look back with smiles as they laugh and count their steps in time with the music of their hearts.

I'd like a world where people can dance with each other again, in the midst of trees and waterfalls, feeling the grass under their feet and the wind on their skin. This is something beautiful, here.

It will be beautiful for those who come after us, too.