glasshouses

Edinburgh was scenic. We sauntered up and down hilly pathways and strained our necks to see the bottom of gracefully perilous coves. We had sublime tea at The Balmoral and negronis with lunch,whilst surrounded by fresh flowers at Maison Bleue. At The Old Town Bookshop,my sister bought her favorite volume of William Wordsworth’s poetry, while I went for a penguin edition of Katherine Mansfield’s Something Childish but Very Natural.And then we went to the Royal Botanical Garden.

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For a small fee we trailed around the Centre’s 9 glasshouses,which all depicted a varied species of flora, as well as the temperatures of the climate and regions from which they originate. I imagined that I was in the desert in Nevada and a few minutes later was awakened to the spicy petrichor that is a rainy day in Santiago. It was little short of a miracle.If the glasshouse above were in a book, I would suggest Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

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