A day for flowers

One lovely (ok, it was hot, humid, and grey) Saturday afternoon, Obaa-chan took Erin and myself to a lovely, lovely flower park. It was nothing like Longwood Gardens - which I attempted to explain to Obaa-chan, failing immensely - there was only one type of flower in the entire park, but there were endless varieties of oranges, reds, whites, and pinks and it was endearing to see a few "wrong colors" in the fields designated solely for white or orange or yellow flowers. It's one of Obaa-chan's favorite places to visit. She loves flowers and is constantly changing them to go with the season and time of the season that is. There are flowers for May, flowers that are good for the rainy season, flowers that don't do well at all in the rainy season, and flowers that can only be planted after the rainy season. Obaa-chan loves her flowers, she often forgets that we've called her in for dinner several times because she's busy tending them. In addition to this she also has her vegetable garden, something I have decided I must have when/if I ever live in a place where I have a place to put large pots (most of her veggies and fruits are in pots so she can grow onions and lettuce in the actual plot of ground she has, apparently the soil isn't that great near her house and it's only good for things like that) I'm going to grow my own veggies. And grass for the guinea piggies in the winter time.

ANYWAY! So we went to the flower park, which proceeded, of course, a trip to the onsen because Erin hadn't been to an onsen yet. From across the fields, I spotted a largish temple, which looked really stunning in the grey light, I'm becoming convinced that these things are not meant to be seen in the sunlight and more and more in the rain because that's when they truly stand out against the rest of the woods and fields or buildings, if they're in a city, around them. Japan has such a rich, old, beautifully sad feeling to it, I'm not sure I can describe it. It might be like finding those places, small caves and ancient river beds in the high hills and mountains of North America, the ones that haven't been touched for a long time and feel old, though they are probably as young as the history of our country. Here though, history reaches back so far and the constant blending of the old with the new leaves this atmosphere that just washes over you as you enter places like this. Not the big cities like Tokyo, that have so little left of the old places, but cities like Kyoto or the mountains. That's where you can feel it. So we walked over there on our way back to the car and I couldn't help but feel like I'd stepped into Spirited Away, just a little, as there were covered hallways leading high over between buildings and all sorts of little doors once used for deliveries and servants. I love those kinds of places.