Now Playing: Andrew Peterson, "Far Country", "Mountains".

Another garden variety journal entry (ooh, look at that pun...).

My parents, Stephen, and I drove down to Oklahoma City this morning to visit the Crystal Bridge in the Botanical Gardens. The morning was cold, overcast, with a strong north wind. Everything has begun to turn: the Johnson grass is going burgundy and mauve, the sumac, poison ivy, and Virginia creeper are going scarlet, the oak trees are going brown, the elms have already gone gold.

Today happened to be a free day at the gardens, so there were a lot of other people in the long, battery-shaped greenhouse. Nestled in the centre of the downtown area, the Botanical Gardens are built like a big green drainage ditch with a long pond running down the bottom. The Crystal Bridge is built over this pond. At the south entrance, we were captured by a docent who recognized Stephen's hoodie and asked us what our connection was to Horn Creek.

We spent all morning in the greenhouse, wandering on the paths through the plants. At one end, the environment is tropical, and at the other end it's desert, and in between are tropical and temperate plants. A lot of palms, ferns, and banana trees. A lot of orchids, too. We climbed up underneath a waterfall at the tropical end where huge ferns and bromeliads were growing. Then down the walkway that runs a couple of storeys above the floor down one side of the building. We could look down on the broad fronds of the plants, the ferns and cycads, the poinsettas. Long-winged butterflies fluttered around us like leaves trickling from the trees.

At the other end, we came to the desert area. All sorts of weird cacti and succulents and aloes. Stiff leaves in surreal geometric patterns. Of course, it took my mother a long time to work through all the plants. She likes to stop and point everything out to Stephen and my dad. I watched people walking around down below us: a group of Asian tourists, four or five highschoolers who reminded me of Cyprus, elderly couples, and mothers with small flocks of children around them.

Before we left, we looked at the orchids for sale on a big table. So many orchids! Rearing frilled and fronded heads like dragons on their long thin stalks. Some of them smelled like cocoa and vanilla; others like butter. My mother was too daunted by the prospect of caring for one of them properly, so my father just bought her a couple of the flowering stalks in water.

Out of Oklahoma City, we drove to Arcadia, to a new restaurant, Pops. It's built on Route 66 and prides itself on the 500+ varieties of soft drinks it sells. A huge statue of a soft drink bottle stands outside, and the building itself is an odd architectural specimen. The two long walls are glass, lined with shelves, which are lined with glass bottles, all bright fluorescent colors. It's basically a tourist trap. Convenience station, fast food restaurant, and bar combined. We had hamburgers and drinks. My dad and I had milkshakes that were amazing. So chocolatey that I couldn't finish mine.

We took back roads to Stillwater. Because of all the recent rain, it was like driving across a marsh in places. Stock ponds overflowing, creeks and rivers roiling angry red, pastures shimmering with water.

At home, I did loads of wash and helped my mother make tea for tonight. My father's parents, one of his cousins, and one of my grandmother's sisters were all coming over for tea. Quite a grand occasion. Thanks to my grandmother, her sister, and her sister's daughter, there was no lack of conversation at the table. Cousin Betty was happy to talk about her job, about Galveston and Houston, about Texas. My grandmother and her sister unearthed all sorts of memories between the two of them.

After tea, we sat round the living room. The adults laughed about memories of family get-togethers. All sorts of embarrassing stories, especially about my siblings and me. Stephen and I sat and smiled politely. Grandma vividly remembered her father reading "Mr Wiggly" comics and feeding her ice cream when she had her tonsils out; they talked about Halloween and trick-or-treating, about Philip breaking things when he was a toddler, about folding cloth diapers.

At about nine o'clock, we said our good-byes. I went upstairs.