The swallows and swans circled our muddy feet as we leapt daffodils and explored flower arches high above our heads. We fed squirrels with ice cream cones and lazily draped over the greenhouse railings in the humidity, wilting like tired flowers. We made camp in the shade of an old tree where we sat with our roses and let the energy flow back into our legs. The air was hazy around us and the sun looked like a dusty old light bulb, soft enough to gaze at. There were blossoms and we wrapped ourselves in lace. It was revisiting childhood memories of summer picnic outings.