We didn’t plan a whole day around it. It was one of those “we have an hour or so, what should we do?” kind of decisions. So we drove over to the Bayou Bend Collection and Gardens and just… wandered. No agenda. No pressure to capture everything. Just a few minutes to breathe.
The gardens felt like a quiet pocket tucked inside the city. Sunlight slipping through trees, shadows stretching across walkways, leaves doing that soft rustling that sounds like permission to slow down. We took a few photos—windows framing green, doorways leading into light, old rooms that felt like they were still holding stories in their walls. I loved how everything looked like it was meant to be looked at slowly.
Then it was back to real life. Laptops open at Brasil, coffee cups sweating onto the table, Wi-Fi reconnecting us to responsibilities. We worked remotely, half focused, half still thinking about the gardens. I caught myself wishing I’d taken more photos, like I could somehow make the moment last longer if I documented it better.
But maybe that’s okay. Maybe some moments aren’t meant to be fully archived. Maybe they’re just meant to be felt, briefly, in between emails and refills of coffee.
Houston keeps surprising me like that—little pockets of beauty squeezed into ordinary days. And I think that’s what I’ll remember most: not the perfect shots I didn’t take, but the feeling of having a few quiet minutes in the middle of a busy life.
