Yesterday with the Poet

I have yet to wake up from this dream because each day dawns and there is something new to marvel over. Heather took me to Butchart Gardens yesterday. They're famous -- world famous -- but I admit to feeling jaded about gardens when she told me where we were going. I live in southern California. I know some pretty wonderful gardens.

Well -- these were some amazing gardens, unlike any that I've ever seen.

Over the top.

Where's Javier? you ask.

Ridiculous, right?

Heather is very beautiful.

Here we are. It would only be cliche to say that Heather not only writes poetry but actually lives it -- her care-giving of caregivers is -- well -- I don't know what to say.

Enough? That picture right above is where the gardens end -- right at the Pacific. Outrageous.

Did I tell you about the food, yet? Heather and I both love it.

What a coincidence (although there are probably no real coincidences --)

We left the gardens sated and tired, but the skies were finally clearing up so she took me to her tiny apartment up in the sky where we looked out over the water, at the snow-topped mountains that had suddenly appeared.

I know, enough. Too much. Uncle.

Are you breathing heavily?

I'll save the ones of me and Javier for another day.