Yesterday I was able to steal away in the afternoon to the world-class Huntington Library and Gardens which is located a mere few miles from my home.
The place has to be experienced to be believed and bowls me over anew every time I visit. For years I've been meaning to set aside a visit exclusively for the library. And for years, every time I go, I'm sidetracked by the acres of gardens--roses, herbs, a Japanese tea garden, the Chinese garden, the California garden, the children's garden.
But most of all, and forever, the desert garden.
Much is in bloom and the coolish-for-Southern-Cal weather makes for perfect ambling. I spent close to a couple of hours peering, oohing, aahing, sighing, gasping in wonder, and giving praise.
I walked much of the rest of the grounds afterward. But a person can take in only so much at a time, and I came to rest on a bench beneath a tree near the Virginia Steele Scott Galleries.
What is it about this time of year that fills us with so much joy and makes us so sad at the same time?
FROM THE AUSTRALIAN GARDEN