Recently, we published a post of M's Butterflies and Morning Walks and we had a...

We arrived at LAX to start our adventures through the good and the bad...

The entirety of the garden is never visible at once. Instead the viewer is led to uncover intentionally hidden views of the landscape while strolling along its curved paths.

The chance to hike Walden Woods where Henry David Thoreau wandered every morning, to dip my toes into Thoreau's own pond and see the actual site of his cabin where he wrote his philosophies that continue to inspire wanderers, travelers, humanitarians.  To see a place that both inspired and reflected his sense of simplicity, appreciation, gratitude, and kindness.

When I was a girl, my dad always tried to teach me about cars.  He pointed to what this thing was and he explained how it worked.   And I remember none of what he tried to teach me.  I remember looking at his tan, scarred hands, that grime under the nails that would never come out.  I can close my eyes and smell the mix of diesel fuel and cigarette smoke. That was the smell of my dad after a long honest day's work in the shop.  The literal blue collar with his name stitched across his chest.

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