There was a nursery near my apartment on Alcatraz Avenue, called The Dry Garden. It dealt primarily (perhaps exclusively?) in succulents, and drought-tolerant plants. It was a beautiful, beautiful place, with rusted metal sculptures everywhere, a resident cat, tall bamboo hiding the fence, and a little greenhouse filled with air plants, lithops, and the like. But the best part? The guy who worked there. Skinny, late forties-early fifties, grey hair and matching moustache. Button-up shirt and light bluejeans. Blue eyes and a salty attitude. It was always just him, and his surly, twenty-something helper boy. I think he probably owned the place, and was there every day. i loved that about him. Once, on a Sunday morning, Nat and i had just eaten breakfast at the Thai Temple, and on our way back home we decided to stop in and wander around. He saw us coming in, and said, "you guys look fabulous!* Did you just come from church? ::wry sarcastic grin::" We all had a good laugh at that, and left him to his work while we checked out the array of low-growing, creeping grasses.
He basically always told us that we looked great, and was nothing but adorable. I loved his sarcastic attitude and the way he would roll his eyes. I miss that place so much it hurts sometimes.
*swishy wrist motion.
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