Green vines trail along arbors and off cement tables.  Light filters through green glass windows.  Isles of pavers indicate walkways throughout. Wood trim painted white. Doves in wooden bird aviaries coo to each other.  Pops of vivid red and pink geraniums spill from the green foliage. A white Grecian statue, a fern as a center point, antique terrariums, and terra cotta planters are understated features among the healthy and varied plants.  As I step onto the property my eyes feast at vignettes of the offerings.  I feel as if I have entered another time, or have dropped my worries off.  The greenhouses at Christianson's are dreams, imaginations, transporting me to a slower pace. Each little turn delights me and I wish and dream of a smaller version of a greenhouse like the ones I find a Christianson's Nursery.  I can imagine puttering in the rich soil, planting tomatoes starts to get a jump on the season or keeping my geraniums alive during the cold winter season.  I imaging breakfasts of coffee and croissants in the early spring in the warmth of the greenhouse as buds start to swell on the plum and quince trees outside.  The fresh smell of growing plants makes me breath deep and find a quiet spot to just sit and write or to pour through plant catalogs.  I dream of fairy lights at night with slow jazzy music and wine, relaxing with friends as we talk about hopes and dreams, sharing our fears and worries, encouraging words flowing and building us up. I realize that this spot, so unassuming is a sort of friendship that wraps around me as soon as step out of my car and I make a trip at least once a year to dream and be inspired.