There is a gate in town to the right of the Presbyterian Church. Actually, part of it. An archway passes under the bell tower, into an alleyway, and on through to a community parking lot and beyond. For a moment, under the tower, you are held in the shadows of a little hut before reemerging into the day. The Lion’s Gate is in there on your right, always open. The air teems with imagination in that space. Teems.