"If you don't show up you're banned for life!" my friend breathed into the phone. With that ringing in my ears I raced toward Buck Estates despite my confirmed reservation. The earliest possible time to be there for dinner was at 4 pm. My watch indicated 5 pm. Too early for dinner but my friend wasn't given to dramatics and I was a cat dying to be killed.
Sonya's Garden was featured in magazines and a coffee-table book. Its fame has reached foreign shores. People travelling to Tagaytay checked it out. A friend hissed "don't miss your appointment!" It struck me as a faddish place with a garden view, admitting only customers with reservations, even turning away walk-ins. Its strictly enforced schedule for admitting clients also made a mockery of previously established business hours for highly successful restaurants. Sonya's Garden only serves from 11 am to 3 pm and from 4 pm to 7 pm.
Sonya's garden still remained a mystery to me when I first ventured into it. I didn't have the wide view of sprawling lawns and well-manicured hedges and borders. My vision was obstructed by a host of plants growing in any number of directions.
Clearly I had to follow the path that wound around the clumps and bushes just to see more and I trod expectantly. Healthy plants grew in profusion in the cool climate on either side of the path. Flowers of various colors abound in shimmery whites, pale blues and pinks, and deep oranges. There were dumbia or butterbrush, hydrangea, impatian, passion flower, and poinsettia. Braiding mild scents in the gently blowing wind, their handiwork could never be contrived in any perfume factory. So delicate and sometimes elusive was their fragrance.
Set into place with wooden planks and pebbles, the path was by itself already attractive. It led me through a garden that sang through scattered wind chimes of bamboo tubes, blue glass bottles, ceramics and many others. It was a live garden ensemble, to be heard by my ears but felt and appreciated by my spirit. Some sounds were soft and echoing, while others were delicate and tinkling. Every

passage of the wind, every sway of the bough was in response to the divine conductor's baton.
Advancing further, I perceived random items of interest and dreamy settings in pocket areas around the garden. There was a Thai arrangement of floating flowers on a huge shallow bowl. One special scenery was restfully Bali in concept. Situated in the garden and also very romantic, the raised floor was adorned with a mat and crocheted throw pillows. I released the pale gossamer tied to the posts and was delighted to find myself in my own private cocoon. Still, another setting had a diaphanous drapery half revealing a finely-fringed hammock.
Relishing the afternoon, I sat on a wooden bench styled like a daybed with raised ends. Next to it was a small stone vessel that would easily turn into a gushing fountain when it rained. Climbing stems and tendrils grew forming a leafy green canopy overhead. A couple of wind chimes swayed lazily. I listened…. miniature worlds around me came alive, …. becoming hives of activity and determined growth. I felt I could go on listening, and sensing.
I had to mentally drag myself to the path that eventually led me to where meals were served. The two cottage houses were of similar dimension and style. At a glance, both were simple affairs of the restaurant area, with the kitchen and powder room on one side.
Yet, there were delightful charms still to come. The powder room was spacious and airy. The stripes of wood and white cement flooring reminded me of the garden trail. A lamesa held baskets and receptacles of toiletries. Handsomely mounted in intricately carved Indonesian wall décor, resplendent with its mini door panels, was a mirror. Tickling my fancy were flowers arranged whimsically in jars, petals strewn on the floor, and candles arranged in a large bowl. A winsome and curvy Thai figurine made a fitting doorstop. A glass lamp hung from the ceiling. Forming yet another interesting facet was the green light