Halfway there, we stumbled upon something unexpected — a sculpture set in a shallow pond.

The installation doubled as a playground, with stone pathways, climbable structures, and a network of platforms bridging the water.

Without hesitation, the kids ran ahead, testing each stone, hopping between dry spots, and chasing each other across the winding paths.

I watched, hands shoved into my jacket pockets against the cold, Dani standing next to me as they both climbed higher and grew bolder.

Rain gathered on the stone, making it slick in places, but that didn’t slow them in the least.

They were just glad to be outside.

Nearby, a man had set up a bubble-making rig. His equipment sat inside a red Radio Flyer wagon — two poles, a rope dipped into soapy water, and a quiet satisfaction on his face.

The kids two noticed immediately.

The sculpture became secondary as giant iridescent bubbles floated past, catching the dim morning light.

The man dipped his rig, lifted it, and the air filled with shimmering orbs that drifted over the pond, popped against your hands, and clung briefly to the wet stone before vanishing.

We let them play until their energy faded, until the cold finally started seeping in.

Then, we shouldered our bags again and continued toward the Cathedral.