The extra tad of biking got me to the Botanic Gardens. I had said between 12:30 and 1, I know I did, and they had been waiting since 12:20. I was allowed to stow my bike in the back of their truck, since the plan was to go see their campground afterward, and I changed from bike shorts back into linen in the triangle of the truck's cab door. My mother laughed, with only some embarrassment: she is used to my having no bodily modesty and it wasn't a crowded parking lot and Usans have such stupid hang-ups.
A reason I wanted to get my hair cut just before she arrived showed itself here: walking back from the truck to the entrance where BDL waited, I pulled the elastic out of my hair, and in the three seconds of its freedom between hasty biking ponytail and folded twist under my beloved clip, she said of it, "Your hair looks nice." I didn't know how to respond to that, because it didn't. Immediately after shaking my hair out, I look like Cousin It, though now with shoulder- rather than waist- (or ankle-, as on It [I was going to make It possessive but both options, Its and It's, made me squirm]). She wanted to say something nice about my hair--I expect my sister briefed her--and the best I could do was not laugh at her carefully impossible timing.
The Botanic Gardens went over well, I think. We rested on shady benches and drank a lot of water and, thank goodness, the sky clouded over, a breeze picking up meanwhile. Some plants had additional information tied to the Lewis & Clark exhibit, and that went over well. There was only one duckling.