Gigantic silver lindens in bloom

Margie and I went to the Peninsula Park Rose Garden (see extra) and sipped our iced coffee in the shade of massive silver linden trees, inhaling their sweet, jasmine-like fragrance. The lindens were planted in 1907, as was the rose garden, and Margie was delighted to hold some tiny linden blossoms in her hand (second extra) and to gaze up into the millions of blossoms above us. 

She talked about her brother, who died during military training when she was a teenager. Recently her son Dennis found a stash of her brother's letters to Margie, buried in a valise she left with her son years ago. Dennis is going to bring them back to Margie when he comes to Portland for her 96th birthday in September. Margie will be happy to see them. "I think it would be fair to say my big brother was my first love. He was a gentle, kind guy, like our father, and he looked just like my son Dennis. I looked up to him, I believed in him, he was everything to me. I think he was gay. He never said anything of course, but you know these things. His death was a blow I never recovered from. I have been thinking about him a lot lately. He would have loved these trees."

After a silence, she said, "Look at the bark of these trees, the whorls and curves and ridges. It's like each tree is telling a story. I wish I spoke their language."