Grand Rapids, Michigan

We drove off the boat and onto Route 96 for the short leg remaining
to my cousin Mark's in Grand Rapids.  He and his two quivering 
beagles graciously hosted us for a night at their home.  That evening 
we were introduced to the culinary curiosity which is Michigan 
Mexican.  Well.

The next morning he took us out into the city, enriching the sights
with the learned narration of an architect.  Mark's an enthusiastic
champion of Grand Rapids and its neighborhoods glowed in the
light of his exuberant promotions.

Our destination was Meijer Gardens, a sprawling 158-acre art
museum, botanical conservatory, and the gem, its sculpture gardens.  
It had been a while since we'd both suffered the beautiful exhaustion 
of art-overload, but that's exactly what a person is faced with, 
strolling the center's innumerable outdoor galleries and promenades.  
It was a delight to move among the diversities of era, medium, and 
aesthetic.

The just-opened Japanese gardens hid haikus here and there in the 
folds of the landscape.