Last Saturday we were supposed to go to the Farmer’s Market in our city, but we couldn’t go because it was raining. I thought we might go yesterday; however, we couldn’t go then either because Mr. Guy and The Lady had something else to do. They were going to a Bond’s Eye class. They said that I could go with them if I wanted to. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to, but I decided that I wanted to spend some time with them, so I said I’d go.
I had no idea why Mr. Guy and The Lady wanted to go to a class on learning how to see like a special agent, to learn to use their eyes as a spy like James Bond. I didn’t even know they liked James Bond. This little blue and orange furry monster knew almost nothing about Bond, or secret agents, or spies, or how to see like a spy. I figured this would be a chance for me to learn something new. They might teach me how to break codes and hunt down criminals and even how to drive a fancy car. OK, maybe not drive the fancy car…but ride in it as the co-pilot.
Mr. Guy got me dressed to go. He put on my brown “Dirt Shirt” that Ms. Michele gave me when I was in Delaware. That sort of made sense. A blue and orange furry spy might stick out in a crowd. I was hoping I’d get a cool trench coat and hat, but my brown shirt was good for a beginner secret agent.
We drove about twenty minutes to the place where the class was being taught. It was down a gravel drive in a building hidden behind lots of trees and shrubs. The building had sort of a secret look to it, but there were no fancy cars anywhere, well fancy spy cars. There were fancy Dallas cars. I guess that’s how they keep the secret agent training center really a secret. It just looked like an old house. Now I was getting excited.
We walked into the Bond’s Eye place. It was a little weird. The people didn’t have on secret agent hats and coats and sunglasses; they looked like hippies in their overalls, t-shirts, jeans, and gypsy shirts. Don’t tell them I said this, but Mr. Guy and The Lady fit right in with this crowd. I looked around for books about being a spy and magnifying glasses and anything else that reminded me of James Bond. There was nothing. This whole secret agent school had nothing but plants everywhere. Most of them were little, but there were some bigger ones too. I thought to myself that maybe we were going to develop our Bond’s eye skills by first looking for bugs on plants or something like that. Surely if I could spy a tiny bug on a tiny plant I could track down a big bad guy or girl.
Mr. Guy and The Lady wandered around looking at all of the plants. They didn’t say anything about looking for bugs. They were talking about things like organic dirt and water culture and fertilizer and apexes and old wood and aesthetic balance. I know I don’t know much about being a secret agent, but even with the little information I did have, I was now pretty sure we were talking about different things.
I finally asked when the real Bond’s eye class was going to start. Where was all of the secret agent stuff? Why were we in a place surrounded by happy hippies and plants rather than secret agents in trench coats?
I quickly learned that I was completely confused about the whole experience. It was not a Bond’s Eye class; it was a bonsai class. Bonsai is a Japanese art form using miniature trees grown in containers. The trees and the practice of caring for them is a process of meditation and contemplation for their owner. Bonsai trees don’t provide shade or food or medicine; they are just to look it. They make you happy. Once I understood that, it all made sense that Mr. Guy and The Lady would want to come here. They like plants. In fact they already had a couple bonsai trees. )I didn’t know until yesterday that that is what they are called.)
So as it turned out, I learned how to take care of these little trees rather than how to be a secret agent. I didn’t get to ride in a fancy car, but I did get to pick out a bonsai tree. Mr. Guy and I decided to get a ponytail palm. Mr. Guy said that The Captain had one in Delaware and that he had hoped we could bring it back to Texas, but that didn’t happen. So, we got our own. And as it turned out, my dirt shirt was the perfect thing to wear!
I never know what to expect with Mr. Guy and The Lady! There’s always an adventure.