I spent yesterday morning in Miami, story to follow, and came home with an exhausted dog, a Labrador who was ready to be home and NOT in the car. I unloaded the car trunk which was weighed down with mainland food and toilet paper. I made lunch. I exercised. I did laundry. I was the very model of a modern house husband. I picked up my book, finally arrived at the chapter on the British recognition of United States independence in A Few Bloody Noses and scared a large iguana off my deck.
It was in many respects a good day, close to 80 degrees breezy and sunny. Cheyenne decided after a tiring day in the car that she deserved a walk. The best I could do was a walk down our street and she wasn't too excited about that but she is a good girl and we toddled off together to make the best of a short stroll unusually close to home. Then it turned really good. I don't leave home without my smart phone and I felt obliged to take a couple of pictures.
It really was that good. And I was glad I don't live in Miami. Honestly speaking Miami is mostly miles of suburban ugliness and my home is in an embarrassingly peaceful and pretty place. I really am lucky aren't I?