The guard at the gate gave me a map to the property and I paid a $3.00 entrance fee.  I had never seen a garden like this before, actually, there were many gardens.  The map showed a formal rose garden, a large vegetable garden, a grape arbor, a meadow and many other garden areas on the property. 

As I studied the map, I tried to decide which path to take. Glancing up, that decision was made for me. Ahead was a fieldstone path lined on both sides with flowering forsythia.  The path appeared endless.  I walked between the rows amazed at their density and color.  They seemed to stretch on forever. I was surrounded in yellow. Everything was yellow and damp. I walked on. The slopping downward path changed to steps that started to ascend. Where would this path lead? I stopped and looked back to where I had started and could not see the beginning of my journey. And I did not know where I was going. Suddenly, I remembered my lunch date with my cousin. Oh, I'd have to come back soon! 

I was able to return to Dumbarton Oaks a few days later. The faint pink color was still prominent as I wandered through the garden. I crested the top of one hill and gazed out towards the forest that extended off the property. The serenity of the garden was just the peacefulness that I needed. When I turned around, ornate cast concrete oak leaves caught my eye.  I walked closer to photograph them. I was surprised by what was on the other side of the wall. Below was the most inviting and romantic swimming pool I had ever seen. I looked for stairs that would lead me down to the pool, there didn't seem to be any. I glanced at my watch and was shocked to see what time it was. The garden would close in 5 minutes and I was quite a distance from the entrance gate. I had to hurry or I'd miss my ride home. I would have to come back again! 

It's been a few weeks since I could return to Dumbarton Oaks. I have thought of little else. I have longed to escape to the garden's quiet embrace. The cherry blossoms have all fallen off during the spring rains. And even today it is drizzling and yet I can not stay away. What am I looking for? I don't know? But I walk on, noticing so many things that I had not noticed before. 

Intrigued by the stone path, I walk looking down at my feet, unaware at first, that I am in a large round outdoor room. The wooden chair beckons me. I sit and listen. I can hear the conversations and laughter of moments past. Many wonderful parties were held in this room, in the cool summer evenings. But now the chairs are lonely. The family is gone. No one takes the time any more to sit in them. They weep with the spring rain. I rise to leave and they beg me to return again soon! Oh, I will! 

This has been a lazy spring and I have relished all the various subtle changes of color that have come to Dumbarton Oaks. As yellow blossoms fade to bright green leaves, I notice, could it be for the first time, that all the benches are made of cast concrete?  No, I noticed them before, but what I noticed was that they were always empty. I sit in them and listen. I hear the voices of moments in the past. And suddenly, I have the urge to play croquette on the grassy lawn! Oh, I'll have to come back again soon! 

Will the spring rains never end? The smell of mold and mildew is strong today at Dumbatron Oaks, yet it doesn't repel me. In fact, I seek out the doors and walls that are painted in this new green felt.  I sit and look at this brick wall for a long time. It has been braided and covered with a wooden trestle. And a grapevine has been trained to grow around the trestle. I wonder who feels in bondage the most? The Wall? The Trestle? The Grapevine? Or me? 

Oh, Dumbarton Oaks! You have been calling me a lot lately and I have been busy. I have not always come to you. But when I do, I find new things to discover within your great walls. Why didn't you show me these things before? Why do you keep them hidden from me for so long? Today, I found the stairs leading down to the swimming pool. But it is chained shut. I feel excluded and left out, it's not your fault. 

As I turn to leave, I see this wonderful wooden bench. The ivy tickles my calves as I sit and listen to the voices. Suddenly, I jump up, as if I had heard someone call my name. And I run to a corner of the garden that I have never been in before. Funny, it looks so familiar for some reason. I laugh, as I sit back in my favorite tub. Thank you, Dumbarton Oaks, for giving me my playfulness back!