Did you know

that when I was a little girl, I used to live very close to where I am currently living? I have decided that I am not a city girl, and am happy to have come to the decision that I belong on the peninsula. (Duh. Water on both sides.) And every time I cruise down El Camino Real, I vividly remember two places:

1. The Baskin Robbins where we would go after Family Home Evening every once in a while, and where, on one summer's Monday night, I witnessed my first car accident. A teenage boy with a very 1970s car and very 1970s hair--bloodied and broken after crashing into the huge post that held the old BR logo.

2. Going into this nursery with my parents, my aunts and uncles, my grandparents. The other day, my Uncle Jay asked me if I liked to garden. I said, "sure," because I've been renting for the past 15 years and don't have strong feelings one way or the other. "You're definitely a Hatfield," he replied. Well, the nursery is still here. I remembered it being such an exotic wonderland inside, so yesterday I took a little field trip.

Same sign. Not so same prices. Expensive nurseries: definitely not Hatfield.

This is pretty exotic, right?

It must've been fascinating at 30 inches.