It was—as usual—a last minute thing. One moment I’m enjoying a quiet morning at home drinking coffee, the next I’m on my way to Homestead in search of orchids. This has become a weekly ritual of sorts. When the day dawns sunny and we’re not buried under blankets of rain, Orchidium will text and ask me if I want to drive to Homestead to visit the nurseries in the area. Not needing an excuse to leave the house and enjoy his gay company, I agree as I throw a pair of pants on, pull on my boots, don the day’s fedora, and head out the door to meet him at a Starbucks along the way. On the drive down Krome Ave, we catch up on our lives and old-men gossip. We trash Facebook trends, compare Netflix queues, and ponder the future aging gay men face but fail to confront. As we visit each nursery, we carefully assess, compare, and select which blooms will grace our gardens or window sills until the next escapade. The drive takes up most of the morning, but driving with windows rolled down, hands gliding on the wind around farms and nurseries, it’s the best way to spend part of the day in the company of a good friend. On this escapade, I decided not to bring home any new plants to cheer my day, but I did bring a few snapshots to document the day. These are good enough to brighten my spirits until the next time Orchidium’s text chimes in for another day of orchid hunting.