Outside, it’s unseasonably warm. The white blossoms on the Bradford pears are gradually being displaced by new, green leaves. The yellow forsythia is out in force. In a week or so, this place will be a riot of spring color. Dogwoods. Azaleas. Damn, but it’s nice to live in Georgia.
I’m half-watching Top Chef while I scroll through my Bloglines feeds. And of a sudden, I notice the Missus’s almost angelic face, backlit by the sunlight filtering through the shutters, with the warm incandescent light of the end-table lamp providing fill-in illumination.
I’ve known her for over thirty years, and she gets better looking every day.
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