Last weekend, Bones and I were driving around town, looking for yard sales. Along our journeys, we saw a sign that said, "Michigan Hosta Tour," and pointing down a road that was out of our way.
When I was preparing to move out to the midwest, several friends offered me plants to take with me. (This is because they know I HAVE A PROBLEM and probably need a 12 step program to deal with my plant addiction.) So of course I said, "YES PLEASE." But I focused on things I knew Bones would like, and that would be hostas.
He had moved a bunch as well when he relocated to our home. I didn't realize quite how many until we looked at our combined pile of plants and realized we both have a problem.
So. Hosta tour?!?! Heck yeah!
We followed signs to a cul-de-sac in one of the many local neighborhoods that's sprouted up along the edges of a lake. And we promptly lost our sense of bravado.
"Do we...just walk into that person's yard?"
We looked at the varied people doing just that. "Will they know we're not in their club?"
"Not if we don't tell them. And if we don't belong here, I think we can outrun these people."
"Ok. Let's go!"
( Lots of pictures follow! )
Before we left, I grabbed Bones' hand. "Hey! Wait!"
He looked at me expectantly.
"Kiss me in a beautiful garden!"
He smiled, and did just that. "These kinds of adventures only happen when I'm with you," he said softly.
That feeling? That one right there? It's entirely mutual.