There is a very old woman in the town who sits outside her private garden who has become a mainstay of the city's tourism. She guards her private garden and for years has been asking payment to see it. Charmed by the idea and the shyness of her, we place a Euro in her extended withered palm and enter her garden. Flowers, antique plows, pots and tiles all great us. Overlooks of the valley, arbors and what-nots abound. It isn't the grandeur of the gardner, nor the uniqueness of the species that I love here -- but more, the 'everydayness' of what I find ... barrels filled with flowers, pots of all kinds, the implements of gardening work, a few weeds, a few odds and ends. Again, a glimpse into the everydayness we are permitted to see.