Rain
We packed a picnic supper, brought our folding chairs and arrived at the Santa Fe Botanical Garden in time for Thursday's sunset concert.
The Botanical Garden is lovely. It's small, and a little overly "done" (meaning a lot of carefully placed stonework and many seating areas and perfectly placed sculptures, all sort of over designed), but still, for a small and newish garden, it's nice.
The skies were cloudy, and there was a dampish breeze. It caught the lavender and tossed whiffs of beautiful scent at us as we walked by.
The concert band was Half Broke Horses, and to Jim's dismay they were a country band. The name should have tipped him off. Twang. But they were inside the covered pavilion and, along with some families and other couples, we set up our folding chairs on the vintage red bridge that crosses an arroyo, so we were far enough away that the twanging wasn't bad.
All good so far. Except there really wasn't a sunset this night. Every evening we have been here since the day we moved in, there have been spectacular sunsets. Some brilliant and towering, others quiet and luminous. But tonight the clouds got thicker.
And then, while the band twanged, we saw the streaks of walking rain in the distant sky. Sheets of rain wandered across the skies, marching right toward us, then over us.
Picnickers crowded into the pavilion, others opened umbrellas, and the wind picked up. We couldn't quite manage dinner on our laps holding umbrellas, so we packed up and came home and opened a bottle of wine in our dry, warm house.
Where it wasn't raining at all.
The Botanical Garden is lovely. It's small, and a little overly "done" (meaning a lot of carefully placed stonework and many seating areas and perfectly placed sculptures, all sort of over designed), but still, for a small and newish garden, it's nice.
The skies were cloudy, and there was a dampish breeze. It caught the lavender and tossed whiffs of beautiful scent at us as we walked by.
The concert band was Half Broke Horses, and to Jim's dismay they were a country band. The name should have tipped him off. Twang. But they were inside the covered pavilion and, along with some families and other couples, we set up our folding chairs on the vintage red bridge that crosses an arroyo, so we were far enough away that the twanging wasn't bad.
All good so far. Except there really wasn't a sunset this night. Every evening we have been here since the day we moved in, there have been spectacular sunsets. Some brilliant and towering, others quiet and luminous. But tonight the clouds got thicker.
And then, while the band twanged, we saw the streaks of walking rain in the distant sky. Sheets of rain wandered across the skies, marching right toward us, then over us.
Picnickers crowded into the pavilion, others opened umbrellas, and the wind picked up. We couldn't quite manage dinner on our laps holding umbrellas, so we packed up and came home and opened a bottle of wine in our dry, warm house.
Where it wasn't raining at all.
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