More from the Botanical Gardens + weird stuff happens

Ms. Ravelled, kissing yet another frog...



(Remind me to stand up straight next time. I look like Quasimodo’s sister.) This was a lucky shot of individual water droplets flying from the fountain jet. I just point the camera and shoot, and sometimes I get magic.



The view from the bench, in the shade, after we took all the ones by the pool. I don’t know what kind of evergreen this is, but it was all feathery. (Yes, everything has labels. I was hot and sweaty and tired; didn’t want to walk over to find out.)



Ivy spilling over onto a wall, because that is what ivy does.



Panning almost straight down from that shot.



A purple martin house glimpsed through the trees, above the branch where Blessing was perched.



Two urns, and the back of a random tourist.



These were right in front of my bench, just to the left of where I perched Faith for yesterday’s last shot.



Another view.



And still another.



FaithAnn and Rosalie reconciled, and acting innocent.



My three, waiting to steal some of my lunch.



Here is Fourthborn’s perspective on the day.

And here is where things get a little weird, but not in a bad way. I came home to the following message: “OK ~ question ~ do you have a daughter with green hair?”

To which I responded [after picking my jaw up off the floor] in the affirmative, adding a few questions of my own. Turns out that I know his youngest son and daughter-in-law. They are local doll people, and I met her several months ago, and him when we had the abysmal pizza at Crystal’s a month or two after that. (They recognized my dolls from the updated album on Facebook.)

The degrees of separation are getting smaller and smaller. I asked him if I should go on DoA (the doll equivalent of Facebook) and ask for “permission to flirt, sir!”

Remember months and months ago, when I was first getting into dolls and mused, “Maybe I will meet a nice middle-aged LDS guy who’s artistic and doesn’t think dolls are weird”? The new guy has hosted a couple of doll meets in his home. Yes, he razzes his son about having a doll, but he has another son who goes to cons [conventions] and has done quite a bit of dolly photography.

This is every bit as delightful and amusing as finding out that Lark’s grandmother was my favorite library lady. [New guy is also fast friends with a couple who moved from my old ward to his (Leslye, you will know them; Firstborn, you might remember them).]

So, lots of reasons why this could turn out to be an interesting and lively friendship.