Our good flora-tune

Natalie carried Paco and Kyle carried a broom stick through the Conservatory of FlowersHope pointed out that I could seek outt the Aquatic Room, which felt just like Florida, in the winter. Like an 18th century poet leaving stuffy dirty grey Europe for a snaitorium on some island I would gladly pay the 3 dollars to sit on a bench under the brilliant crosshatched ceiling of this Victorian greenhouse and wear a tank top. Near flat, shallow hot bodies of water and rubbery green leaves. I imagine breaking in here at night to float on my back through the mangroves and enormous lily pads, Basil E style. This place the apotheosis of the sculptured and buttery light in all the corners of Florida front porches and screened in pools.There was a also a Joseph Cornell kind-of room with its Victorian Pot Culture, its Wheel of Flora-tune, a winged seahorse-horse, and an antique carousel zebra who was dressed like Natalie. In some ways, it reminded me of Disneyworld (when it was smaller, more rickety and charming) and the It’s a Small World Ride.Everyone came to the piñata-party. And a dog! And a baby! Thanks guys! (I fear I miscommunicated about the piñata prizes though, because most of the stuff was left behind. Now what will I do with all these cactus stickers?) We left Paco’s torso beside the tree where we had reveled as an offering, in the hopes of more sunlight this week.