Gentle knocking at my door woke me the following morning. I stretched from head to toes and managed to get tangled in the futon. It took me a few minutes to finally scramble out of it on my knees and crawl to the shut sliding doors facing the garden. Stretching one arm right and one arm left I pushed back the scented wood panels to discover the mimosa thicket, a spread of blue skies, a few, scattered, harmless clouds, and the garden glistening wet and moist from the night's rain. On a whim, I left the safety of my room behind to step out on a flat stone, cold against my bare feet and inhaled the strong mimosa's scent. Carefully stepping from stone to stone I began to look for the fountain I could hear gurgling happily. When I finally found it, I saw that it wasn't merely a fountain, but a
