...

IF YOU THOUGHT ABOUT IT at all, you must have assumed that I got to the end of that rabbit trail and fell down the rabbit hole. Since I'm so tardy coming back to my story of the Garden Tour, I'll just say yes--of course that's what happened. I chatted with the Cottontails a while, got them to teach me the hippity-hop, then looked around for Alice (she wasn't there).





Fuzzy tales aside, I'm back in the garden--the one at the historical estate where a gentleman bobbing a bonsai was the one who set me off on the trail.






Ohio sis-in-law and I have wandered off to another part of the grounds and this following photo was taken expressly for her--she wondered about the identification of these blue flowers blooming profusely on the arbor. Of course, she had a camera of her own, and so she got a shot of her own, as well. And I took a shot of her taking a shot of me taking a shot of her taking...ah, the day was getting long and hot. But we had one more garden to see.


You won't see this one, though. I took no photos here; there was simply nothing unique that I wished to remember. The homeowners had torn down an old stone mansion (and old shade, I'm quite convinced) to build their new mansion. The pool was newly installed. The pool house was newly built and equipped with all the amenities for entertaining. The gardens were newly landscaped. But, oh, ho-hum, I needed shade and I lost interest early. Wandering out the elegant and newly paved-with-pebbles driveway to the road, where there remained one towering leafy tree, I slipped off my sandals.

Soon enough, exceedingly warm and ready to call it a day, my three sibs-in-law joined me. So I slipped my sandals on and we crossed the street to the car. But my goodness, my feet had grown so hot and sweaty. So...very...hot and sweaty. They were causing my sandals to cling like a desperate lover. What on earth had happened to my feet?! Egads, I yanked off my sandals to see a sticky mess of tar. It oozed between my toes. It blotched the soles of my feet.

I had one positive thought: thank goodness this was our final garden stop, and not our first. In case you've never encountered this situation, let me tell you there is no quick and ready clean-up for tar-besmirched feet and sandals. One cannot remove the sandals without sullying each spot where one rests one's feet. Goo-gone, the supposed solution to all goopy, gooey problems, does not touch it (I soon learned when, back at local sis-in-law's house, I put it to the test).

Okay, well, there was nothing that I had to do on my way home, other than stopping at the grocery store. I did have to pick up my salad ingredients now--time was of the essence if I wanted to get to the family cook-out (at the home of yet another sis-in-law--[I've got an abundance]). I thwack-thwacked my way through the store, being grateful for the occasional step in which my sandals stuck soundlessly to my feet. I then rushed home, used up my entire supply of nail polish remover, thereby making my feet passably fit to walk a mile in my own shoes (a clean pair, of course). I tossed a salad and tossed out my tar-mucked sandals and headed out the door.

A word of advice: No one's going to get through life without walking through a little...uh...stuff that happens. You should also watch out for tar.

...