Calm down...I'm not on anything illicit or illegal; I am high on beauty.
But my words botch the perfection of this morning; nothing I can say will do it justice. It's 59 degrees outside. When I breathe in, the cool air burns my nose and stings my eyes. Wait--maybe those are tears. It's really that pretty out--I could cry about it.
The flowerbeds are perking up. Tentative buds, badly burned in the heat of the summer, have gathered their courage and are blooming their little hearts out. I thought the Bachelor's Button croaked back in August, but it has surprised me by summoning some deep strength and now is picture-perfect.
Click on this image, if you will: the dew is glittering on the chrysanthamums that are about to burst open in the front garden.
The sunlight is illuminating the other side of the ravine in our backyard.
Chris is using the trimmer (weed-eater). Can you smell the freshly-cut grass?
I'm about to round up the boys and head out to the Farmer's Market. I've planned a menu for the week...almost all French, and I can't wait to share it with you.