It was early enough in the morning that I parted company and came into sight of a place hidden within the city. The bike trail leading to this location is narrow but straight enough to proceed without peril. Proceeding inward coming into the wide swinging gates I dismounted my bicycle and received with the greatest affection a world declared my own for the remainder of my visit. I set out to find this place entrusted to us citizens by well intentioned people who are like minded.
This is public art midway to the mountains. The placement is called Big Rock Garden fair enough to pay a whole order of depth of a population to its natural order. The place and its art are remarkable not so much in value as much as it is an unknown to many who live nearby. Nothing prevents them from discovery any more or less than I did some time ago. I simply rode here and made the discovery I was impatient to see before mid day. The intersection of bike path to sculpture path could not have been deferred any longer.
On this ensuing day I am to be the only audience. I am solo and I have started this monologue sitting on a bench carved literally out of a fallen tree. It is with greater attention that I make acquaintances with masterpiece after masterpiece; perfectly situated in a Japanese styled garden I am another object of this journey. I stay here for several hours each time. When my audience and participation has ended, I return to my upright bicycle and ride back out those wide gates and onto that narrower trail. You see there is a lake on the other end. My return here is just getting started.
I was sent for; I did return a wiser person for the effort. The water will be another sculpture in its own right.