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maze of six-foot-tall boxwood shrubs in the center.
    â€œFrom the house, you can’t see the maze at all, but from this spot it’s visible in all its majesty. What a happy surprise, dontcha think?” Mo asked. “That’s why I call this the Ha-Ha Valley.”
    It was majestic, all right. The maze stretched a hundred feet across—a perfect circle of boxwoods with a massive oak tree rising from the center.
    â€œWow!” I said. I looked at the whole expanse of Mo’s land. As wonderful as our garden in Califa hadbeen, Mo’s garden was what I had always imagined I’d have when I grew up.
    â€œCome on, I’ll point out all the special places as we walk,” said Mo. She pressed my hand on the railing, as if to secure me, then let go and took my other hand in hers. Thankfully, she walked slowly this time. I set each step like I had big monster feet, sinking into the crusted snow. I looked ahead, not down.
    â€œOver there is my butterfly meadow,” Mo said, pointing to a sea of brown sticks in the snow. “Oh, you should see those colors in midsummer! Blossoms and butterflies everywhere!”
    I imagined how beautiful it must be. “Can I come back to see it in the summer?” I asked.
    â€œI would love that!” said Mo, squeezing my hand. “You’re doing great. We’re already halfway across. Now look over there, beyond that meadow.”
    I took a deep breath. I
was
doing great. Not needing to hold on to Mo’s hand anymore, I kept up my solid, heavy-footed pace as I looked to where Mo was pointing.
    â€œThat path leads to a waterfall,” said Mo. Off in the distance were miles of forests, backed by jagged, glistening cliffs. “You might want to hike up there. All uphill, but worth it.”
    Not at sunset, and not in this cold
, I thought. Icouldn’t even see the waterfall from here, so the hike must be a long one.
    â€œAnd now look by the apple orchard,” Mo continued as I tried to twist my head backward and keep my feet walking forward, not an easy trick. “That’s an absolutely magical garden.” She leaned back toward me as if she was about to share a deep secret. “In spring and summer, it’s like a fairyland.”
    I knocked the snow off the soles of my boots to get more traction, eying the fairy woodland. Other than the orchard, there was nothing there but snow.
    I followed in Mo’s footprints, one long-striding step at a time. We finally made it across the bridge, where a short path led to the entrance to the boxwood maze, which was frosted with snow. The sheer size of the hedges, as dense as brick walls, was staggering.
    â€œCan we go in?” I asked.
    â€œBe my guest,” said Mo, waving me ahead.
    I began the walk through the maze. I chose my steps to keep from slipping in the snow, and chose my turns to avoid dead ends. Mo followed, and when I turned back to look at her, her face was beaming. We made the switchback turns and curves through the maze path. It was absolutely silent in there, insulated by the boxwoods and the snow. All I couldhear was the crunching of our boots on the ground. I picked up my pace, since the snow and the trees had turned a golden pink hue and I knew the sun would be setting any minute. Turn, run, turn, run. Mo’s footsteps kept up right behind me, and then …
    There I stood in the center of the maze, feeling very tiny (minuscule, actually) beneath the biggest deciduous tree I’d ever laid eyes on. Back home in Califa, we had some good-sized native oaks, but I’d never ever seen one this huge! The trunk was as massive as a giant sequoia; there was no way my arms could ever reach around it. The bark was rough with furrows and ridges, like a wise old face. Even in this wintry air, the tree felt welcoming and warm.

    â€œHow do you do, Ms. Quercus?” I asked the tree, extending a bow.
    â€œQuercus robur!”
exclaimed Mo with surprise.