This past weekend I went to visit Cherished Friend in his corner of this desert land. It is always a pleasure to spend time with him; his company is like rainfall on creosote bushes. It was a much welcome respite from Work and Responsibilities and Everything.
Saturday, we spent time in a picturesque botanical garden. We have visited this place before, and as we walked, I remembered the moments from the photographs he took last time -- there was a bird on this stone statue; there was a spiderweb there; there were butterflies in the path just here. Strange, how the location spurred all those minuscule memories.
I sat briefly on a park bench to look at some purple leaves, that interestingly turned out to be a low-growing ground cover. Then I spotted a well-formed leaf. I picked it up and thought about summer camp eons ago, when I learned how to identify trees by their bark and shape of their leaves. A campfire song popped into my head, and I found myself humming it.
So many things that I thought were lost to the sands of time, resurfacing in that quiet garden.
It was lovely.
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