Why Didn’t We Go a Long Time Ago?

Over the weekend, hubby and I visited our twenty-something kids in California.  On Memorial Day, we went to The Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens.  Although we lived for twenty years in southern Cali, this was the first time we had gone.  I wanted to see the library, which I have heard so much about.  A few of my friends worked on their dissertations there.  So many times people have urged me to visit, and I kept putting it off. Don’t procrastinate as I did.  Seize the first opportunity to visit the Huntington! A lovely time was had by all :).

The Blue Boy (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Unfortunately, they are working on the library this summer, and visitors were not allowed access (that will change in September).  However, they did have the Huntington collection of volumes of Darwin’s The Origin of the Species on display.  It’s hard to believe there are any others left in the world!  One row of the books wrapped around the walls of a large gallery. When we entered one of the art galleries, I spotted Gainsborough’s The Blue Boy ahead, on the far wall, and ran up to hubby, the kids, and their friends excitedly pointing out the painting.  I hadn’t realized it was at the Huntington.  We also saw Pinkie by Thomas Lawrence. Most of our day was spent in the remarkable gardens.

Sorry about the light puddles–no time for fancy stuff when strolling with the family

We saw a few peacocks at one point.  But the only other animal we saw in any quantity was the occasional small lizard.

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I hope you enjoyed the slideshow of cacti and succulents. They also had flowers which reminded me of “back east”–Michigan, Cape Cod, all my other memories from years ago.

There’s still much to share, but I’m out of time for today.  Check back later this week for more of our fun time at the Huntington.  And, yup, it definitely took me away from my writing, but it also fed my soul–and that sure helps with the writing!  Here is the link to the next post.

Every secret of a writer’s soul,

every experience of his life,

every quality of his mind

is written large in his works.

Virginia Woolf