But it is precisely this lack of modern prefab sensibility that helps make the place so refreshing. Much of what is on display was constructed before there was any There there, and this lack of concern about what the outside world might really think is a huge point towards redemption.

Coupled with the art is a beautiful setting, a forest with immense Cedars, Cottonwood, White Spruce, Fir, and Hemlock (Hey! A chance to bore the boys with a history lesson that involves Socrates!), an overhead canopy dense enough to not require the loaner umbrellas the good people who run the place offer, at least with the marginal rain we had that day. Along a nature trail that leaves behind the fairy tale theme you can find a small (natural) body of water, with lifejackets and basic rowboats sitting at a small dock, available for any visitor to take out to visit a beaver dam and any wildlife that might happen to be hanging around.

Let me clarify what I just said: you pay to enter, then you can stroll on down, throw on a lifejacket, climb into a boat, and paddle off. You don't pay extra, you don't seem to sign any waiver stating that if you drown because you're a buffoon you can't sue to take possession of Mary and her Little Lambs, there's nobody there to bark at you when your ten minutes are up, and there isn't a line fifty people deep (well, I can't speak for warm sunny days, but I suspect most visitors don't go far beyond the main attraction).

I won't go too much into the fairy tale settings; they are far better than I had anticipated, but there is a sense of sameness after awhile, except for those moments when you get to climb up higher and look down around the forest. Suffice it to say that it is all worthwhile, more so because, even though the parking lot seemed fairly busy, it was easy - after the first ten minutes - to get away from most people. While not exactly lost alone in the forest, it was easy to get a little privacy.

Well, aside from those damned gnomes that kept peeking out at me from behind the ferns.