To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow. ― Audrey Hepburn Many must have had the dream of tomorrow to create such a garden as Les Jardins Suspends de Marqueyssac. The Hanging Gardens of Marqueyssac are a wonder to see. This magnificent sculpture of green is my dream garden and my favorite of any I have seen in the world.
You’d think this photo was taken in India, but in fact, it’s New Zealand. The Indian Char Bagh Garden in Hamilton is like stepping onto a different continent. Paradise is contained between ivory walls and a carpet of colorful flowers spreads out to the four corners.
I came across a Sequoia tree today in the Queenstown Gardens. It’s a child in comparison to the largest in California, yet towered over any trees around.
In a land of 200 volcanoes I walked on lava, black sharp bits crunching into the soles of my shoes. The red dusting on its ridges had a magnetic pull on my heart and the sea sung songs of islands being born. I hiked in the scorching heat dreaming of shade and watched lizards run to drops of water. I walked windswept beaches with cliffs rising 670 meters above to a lookout I stood on the night before at dusk. I watched a mythical wild goat rarely seen, rise from below the cliff edge and run off into the fading light. I sat in lava tubes listening to silence and shouted at caves that absorbed my voice, erasing echoes.
I’m drifting in the Adriatic Sea, weightless in its salty waters. When did I get this light? In the fresh water of the great lakes, my feet start sinking down by now. Here I am buoyant and delight in my ease of floating. I’ve swam more in Croatia than I do in an entire summer in Michigan and it’s quickly become my favorite way to spend my time here.
There is a place not far from Rome, where one hundred fountains rest in a row and grand promenades decorate the slope over a town called Tivoli.
What is in the missing of a person, a place, a thing? The ache of longing for a familiar face, a home cooked meal, or one’s own bed settles in when on the road. There is a comfort in being in the same space as a good friend or hearing a love’s laugh. Sometimes as I wander the streets of a foreign city, I experience a strange connection in the face of a perfect stranger.