First, it rained (note wet deck). Then it shone (note wet shiny deck with genuine shadows). Blue skies. Birds singing. Green-tipped buds glowing gently in the light. The tree you can see in the middle background–I don’t know its species, but we call it the torture tree, for obvious reasons–always buds up and leafs out last; it makes this pic look like, well, February. But everywhere else around the house and garden it felt like late March. On Valentine’s Day.

And a lovely day it was, too. Starting with home-made muffins. A long and leisurely phone conversation with Carol, my ex in England all about Pies and Prejudice (a book she bought me for Christmas) full of funny anecdotes about the English North/Side divide, and her kids, and life the universe and everything. Then lunch (made-from scratch–as everything in our house is–pasta Bolognese). Then an hour working on a Sterling Editing post, then time with my sweetie. Then dinner and a bottle of soave. We not normally white wine people (unless it’s something tremendous like a 90s Meursault) but, what with the sunshine and the buds and Valentine’s Day and everything, we felt rather springlike and just in the mood for a promise of summer Italian quaffer. Then on to an ep of a TV series we’re watching on DVD (I like watching TV this way; yay for Netflix), followed by an hour of wireframing and planning for the launch. Then bed.

And when I woke up this morning, I found the world drenched in mist:

I love mist, I find it dead romantickal. I imagine it will be another lovely day.