“We’re doing what?” asked Mauricio as we headed out of the office.
“We’re going to the Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens to see the Million Blooms.” I answered.
“Our experience this week is three dudes going to look at flowers?”
“Yep!” I said, as we walked out into the warm afternoon sun, “Would you rather still be in your cubicle?” 
“Not really,” he replied.
It was indeed a wonderful day to be outside when we arrived at the Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens. As we passed through the main building to the gardens beyond, Dwayne pulled out a map he’d snagged from the front ticket counter. I looked over his shoulder. “I had no idea that this place was so big.”
“Now what?” asked Mauricio.
“We look at the flowers.” Dwayne answered.
“There’s some.” I pointed, and down a path we went.
“Here, rub this one with your fingers and then smell,” Said Dwayne as he bent over a small green leafy bush. “Minty!”
We walked up to the iconic greenhouse at the far end of the path and went inside. Exotic plants of every shape and size towered above us.
“It looks like Jurassic Park.” Said Mauricio as he looked up at the tall palm trees. He did his best velociraptor impression. 
“Over here! Cacti!” Dwayne led us deeper into the greenhouse.
“That one looks fuzzy!” I said, “I want to touch it.”
“So must everyone else. Look!” Dwayne pointed to a large sign showing the fuzzy cactus, a bleeding finger, tweezers and band-aids.
“Hmmm. Good call. Let’s go back outside.”
We passed by the fancy orchids and wound our way down to the Asian Valley. We hopped over a bubbling creek near the Tea House and came to a small pond. Fish swam lazily back and forth and a tiny baby turtle floated along the surface. A frog, hidden by the low bushes, croaked loudly and a large swan sat on the water’s edge and took no notice of us. Cardinals and starlings flew above our heads and wrestled in the foliage. The breeze made the branches sway. “It’s really relaxing here,” I said as we wandered across a grassy expanse. “I could totally see coming here with a good book and chilling out on one of those benches for a day.”
We rounded a corner, I saw a large, dense bush with small round reddish-purple leaves. “Oh no!”
“What is it?” Asked Dwayne.
“A red barberry.” I shuddered. “Look at those thorns! This stuff is nasty!” I was forced to recall the two summers in high school that I worked at a nursery. We would spend days taking cuttings of barberries and then wrap our fingers in duct tape to strip the thorns and leaves off the lower stems. Despite our precautions, we always went home with thorns under our fingernails. “The only thing worse was the Cornuta ‘Rotunda’ Holly. Even after all these years, I still remember its name.”
We found the children’s garden around the next corner and climbed up the giant tree house. We could see the construction of the new rose gardens in progress across the lake. “It’s almost 5 o’clock,” said Dwayne, “We should start heading back to the front.”
“I think this is one of the most relaxing experiences we’ve done so far,” said Mauricio.
“This would be a good place to take Mom for Mother’s Day.”  added Dwayne.
“Is that this weekend?” I replied. “Crap! I guess I’ll be back here sooner than I thought.”

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