The humans have PLANS today. Isn’t that cute? They really think that the combination of subway + Loki + goddaughter (who is coincidentally visiting this metropolis with her grandmother and is being borrowed for the day) = Something That Can Be Scheduled.
I am on a first name basis with the folks at the MTA now. The first train the humans boarded decided that it did not want to run to the Bronx today and decided to reverse direction halfway there. The humans scrambled off at the next stop and jumped onto a different one. That one has now decided it was running late and will be an express, omitting a handful of stops. Luckily, the garden that the humans wish to visit is still on the list of stops. But we are going to be late. That works out well, because the blue-haired goddaughter and her grandmother gave their Uber driver the name of the garden in Brooklyn, so they have had a minor detour of their own.
(later) After exiting the train and having a bite of breakfast (egg-on-roll sandwiches purchased from a shop in which Allspeak would have been decidedly useful), the humans spent another half hour wandering about, looking for the entrance to the garden. Yes, the folks at GoogleMaps also work for me.
So now, at last, an hour past the initial rendezvous time, here we all are. The first thing past the ticket booth is a reflecting pool with a pleasingly fierce, toothy sculpture.
It’s supposed to “evoke the flowers of lobster claw ginger.” If you say so. Wouldn’t it be a shame, though, if it somehow came loose from its moorings and, say, rolled over the human female?
This is quite the garden! We are surrounded by flowering trees and shrubs
Sigyn thinks that Styrax flowers will be very “in” this year,
and that every home should have a peony to nestle in.
We have reached the big conservatory.
That is a LOT of glass.
The fully grown palms and tree ferns make a nice pattern against the roof.
This whole place is quite photogenic. Since the male and the goddaughter are both photographers and Sigyn and the female are plant nerds, I predict we will be here for. ev. er.
The entire garden is hosting an exhibit by a famous flower painter, with emphasis on the plants of Hawai’i she painted. The Hawaiian plants all have special signs.
Ah. This is a lobster claw ginger. Now that wacky sculpture makes sense.
Even though the flowers are bright red, Sigyn says she likes this tiny Streptocarpus better.
Possibly because the flowers look easier to wear on one’s head…
Oooh! Carnivorous plants!
They don’t have anything large enough to take on one of the felines back home, but they are still interesting.
As are the denizens of the Desert House. This aloe is green and pointy.
Sigyn is squeeing over this red, furry one. What a surprise.
The human female has fallen for this one. There’s no label, but she’s pretty sure it’s in the Apocynaceae.
So: it’s yellow, clingy, toxic, and obscure. Yes, that suits the human female very well.
After what seems a week and a half, we have finally left the glass house.
Sigyn wants to visit the rock garden, since rock garden plants are often diminutive and “cute.”
I will admit, it is beautiful. Too bad the human male is not allowed to take his new rolling camera bag on the gravel trail. The human female will have to content herself with a lightning fast look around, then exit to mind the bag while the male goes in to take a squillion photographs.
Sigyn and I are neither restricted nor hampered and can stroll at leisure. These tiny bellflowers are, according to my beloved, “dainty and charming.”
So are you, my sweetling. So are you.
(later) After viewing the art exhibit and poking in the gift shop, we left the garden and returned to the central city via above-ground Metro Train. For an extra fee, of course. After missing the first train looking in three different places for the ticket booth and having to wait a half hour for the next one.
We left the goddaughter to make her way to her inn from Grand Central Terminal–which, as the guidebooks say, has a fascinating ceiling full of stars. On the way out of the terminal, we caught a glimpse of one of the human female’s favorite buildings.
It is the one she most wishes to observe from the top of that one very tall building. We’ll see about that… (Cue ominous music.)
Now we are having dinner in an establishment that bills itself as a purveyor of grown-up grilled-cheese sandwiches. It has peculiar tables.
Ah! The food is here! The male has a burger-ish sandwich with grilled onions. The female has chicken with herbs. There is, in fact, a good deal of melted cheese involved. The tuberous tots are also cheese-bedecked.
Whether the humans have walked off the equivalent of all these calories today is left as an exercise for the reader.