Saturday evening at about sunset Mary took a picture from inside the cabin of me sitting beside my fire on the deck of the Palace. I was deeply in thought and deeply into my bottle of Cabernet. Maybe it wasn't the first bottle of the afternoon, which had been pleasantly cold, and smoky from the fire and from my smoker full of chicken drumsticks.
Gazing fondly at the fire flames blending into the dimming sun I debated whether I like olives or pineapples the best.
I remember the longest days and weeks and months of my life many years ago when I would start in February pining for summer. I wished and wished and hoped for June to arrive.
Every year summer did arrive and it was wonderful. But I sure missed some fine months between February and June, and caused myself huge anguish, waiting for June.
Saturday I spent all afternoon and evening outside, six layers of clothes, boots, and mitts insulating me from minus 30 degree temperatures. I loved the ambiance and appreciated the opportunity. As thoughts turned occasionally to the coming summer I asked myself, "Which do you like better, summer or winter?"
As my mind muddled and the wine iced up I kept coming back to the olives vs pineapples question, and the answer eventually dribbled in as gently as the drops from a melting icicle on a sunny day.
When I'm having a Martini, olives are my favorite. If it's a Pina Colada kind of afternoon, give me the pineapple.
Gazing fondly at the fire flames blending into the dimming sun I debated whether I like olives or pineapples the best.
I remember the longest days and weeks and months of my life many years ago when I would start in February pining for summer. I wished and wished and hoped for June to arrive.
Every year summer did arrive and it was wonderful. But I sure missed some fine months between February and June, and caused myself huge anguish, waiting for June.
Saturday I spent all afternoon and evening outside, six layers of clothes, boots, and mitts insulating me from minus 30 degree temperatures. I loved the ambiance and appreciated the opportunity. As thoughts turned occasionally to the coming summer I asked myself, "Which do you like better, summer or winter?"
As my mind muddled and the wine iced up I kept coming back to the olives vs pineapples question, and the answer eventually dribbled in as gently as the drops from a melting icicle on a sunny day.
When I'm having a Martini, olives are my favorite. If it's a Pina Colada kind of afternoon, give me the pineapple.
