Cox Arboretum & Gardens It was the time of year when flowers bloom, mosquitoes buzz, butterflies scurry, while the rain pours and birds sing. In the midst of such favorite fertility, another of T J's flora- and-fauna filled desires ripened and we were off in the rain to explore Cox Arboretum and Gardens at Five Rivers Metro-Park. Driving along State Route 741 in Dayton, Ohio, there was a sameness to the summer roadside view; corn, soybeans, corn, soybeans, and maybe a field of wheat or grazing cows. But turn off on Springboro Pike to Cox Arboretum and diversity rules. Beauty is more powerful when unexpected. Like the farm garden here where a circle of ten-foot pole beans tower over kale and a field of miniature marigolds. Huge purple beans dangle like tree ornaments inviting us to pluck a few to nibble as we follow the red brick road over to the herb house. Road-borders are constructed of larkspur and lavender, bee balm and verbena, clematis and sweet alyssum bloom as if they have freely self-seeded along the brick. A fat bumble bee gorges himself on a golden perennial sunflower completely ignoring my camera lens thrust up-to his nose. T J said, “The golden perennials shoot up twice as high here in the sun then the smaller annual sunflowers, which also grow from seed.” “T J, how do you know so much?” She ignored my question and said, “Look here Ben, these are evening primroses, which are tough as nails; and those yellow loosestrife, which can stand up in dry conditions, along with mints, bee balm, campanula, and monkshood.” I was awe-struck by her encyclopedic knowledge and jealous of her ability to pronounce those tongue twister names. How did flowers get names with strife or monks in them? It was an unknown world to me except that we shared the delight of how the colorful plants dazzled our sense and the common pleasure of exposing ourselves to such joys as if it was a garden of Eden. The rain was light and didn’t stop any of the wanderings we wished to do. Off we went onto the red-trail for a ¾ mile walk to a bird blind overlooking a emerald surfaced pond with a surrounding field of cat-o-nine tails. A tribe of green-headed ducks cavorted the water's edge nibbling at a delicacy they seem to relish. A score of turtles squatted upon pond-rocks stretching their necks up to an invisible deity. Dozens of dragon flies cruised about seeking their own pleasure from the insect world that was chattering and buzzing just outside the screened-in blind. Peristaltic waves of pleasure brought on a sense of well-being that comes from getting caught up in what you're doing, so focused and energized by it, that time passes unnoticed. Savoring the moment is a crucial happiness skill, one that I am lucky enough to share with my friend, T J. Across a lawn of Renoir green, towards the Stonewall Garden, we walked drinking in the absinthe-colored jungle of plume grass and crabapple trees and flame-tree peony's exuding an urgent exotic odor that was dispersed on dewy breezes. I am willing to admit that there may be unknowable things. But I knew this was a tsunami moment. The limestone wall slopes up upon a low ridge, above several small ponds, curving back towards itself at one end, pointing the way to a twin row of hackberry trees. As we walked the flagstone path across the rock garden wall, T J kept identifying the multitude of plants clinging between the stones. Our garden map listed 95 varieties shrubs, bulbs, annuals, biennials and perennials and T J wanted to located all of them. The wall created a sense of privacy, peace, along with a hint of mystery. The rain increased urging us on in the direction of the parking area. Reluctantly we we left the Stone Wall Garden. As T J walked towards the car I noticed tiny birds standing in the shadows on pin legs. Ahead of her the sun began to set.