I didn't stop that many times on this trip, and I must have been having nature withdrawals, because the flowers were such a delight when I finally stopped for gas somewhere in Northern California. I don't know what it was. I was especially drawn to them. They were pretty and fresh in the disappointing landscape of a semi-urban freeway pit-stop, and yet tamer and heavier than the wilder-feeling redbud trees of Lakehead rest stop. There were masses of them, and they were welcome. I don't remember for sure how they smelled, but I think they were perfumy. I spent time taking pictures, hoping to get a couple of shots in focus, as the breeze tossed them around in the viewfinder. I wanted some record of them to send home to Lee - some bit of beauty on the road. They seemed vulnerable, and the delicate blooms had already begun to wither in the spring heat. They seemed an auspicious sign at the time, and so they were. It was on a happy journey. But I don't remember the name of this place along the highway.
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