A quiet evening at home reading, writing, drinking Barbara, and listening to jazz.

Last night, after my lover came home from work and I bombarded him with a beer and a hug, and after we ate tomato soup and cheddar/rosemary biscuits, and after bundling up in heavy coat and donning our hats - we went for a walk to celebrate the most beautiful misty rain tickling the cherry blossoms.

On the subject of these lovely blooms, I swear they came out of nowhere!  One day last week, I was riding the bus to work and saw the faintest pink on a far-away tree and I though to myself, "Surely, no! It's too cold!"  But as I looked around more and more, I realized they are indeed deciding it is time to begin their reproductive cycle.  Audacious buggers.

So we took a lovely walk.  We sauntered around in the dusk with two rouge kitties in tow.  We pilfered blossoms of cherries, jasmine, and Daphne to inhale deeply (oh Daphne, you make me swoon.  Have you ever smelled Daphne?!!).  We swigged from the wine bottle Joel hid in his English Great Coat.  We walked toward the lake, ducking under corkscrew willows and stepping gingerly over spasmodic daffodils.  We admired old architecture and ancient stairs made of stone.

Evening TV is never this good for the soul,