pink camellia petals
sliding down a mossy waterfall --
Spring slipping away
In the morning we drive back from Cowitch Valley to Brentwood Bay to spend the day in the Butchart Gardens. The weather is fine, we're rested from our travels, we kind of know how to get there without the GPS and we have nearly the best part of the day to enjoy the famous floral displays. Over one hundred years in bloom, in bloom all year round, too. Early spring on Vancouver Island but it seems that all the seasons are going on simultaneously -- sprouts, buds, blossoms, falling flowers and leaves, ripe berries, bare branches. The only thing missing is snow, which rarely falls here, but I hear we're still getting it back home, 2,000 miles to the southeast in Iowa.
Nearly a million visitors each year and everyone has a different favorite feature, whether it's flowers or bowers, fountains or fungi, bulbs or birds, seascapes or statues.
Nicki and I start with a quick tour of the Italian gardens. The geometric beds of same color tulips, precisely clipped hedges and formal architecture are stunning but too monotone and linear for my taste.
Next we peek from a promontory at the Sunken gardens. Winding paths and curving beds look more like an English country garden, but still a bit too unnatural for me.
Along a promenade we pass cherry trees bursting with pink blossoms, spring flowers and summer shoots pushing up.
Then we gravitate to the Japanese garden and wander for hours, totally entranced.
As we're waiting for the rest of the group to show up for our departure, we browse through the gift shop, which sells seeds and plants, but mostly inorganic momentos. But I have already ingested a feast of memories, with my eyes and camera.
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