While exhaling in pure pleasure, my mind drifts east, to the City of Love. Here, I'm tucked into a cozy corner of a little Parisian cafe (with a view of the Eiffel Tower, of course). The snooty French waiter (his name is Jean Paul) is adorned with a long, white apron. Matter of factly, he set my chocolate creme brulee onto my bistro table. Jean Paul knows that I'm going to be pleased with this dessert.
Before dinner and dessert, I ventured outdoors to look for some flowers for our table. In any season but winter, my outdoor garden loom is full of flowers, "weeds" and dyed wool. The loom is very therapeutic and turns out some beautiful pieces. Obviously, at the present moment, it is a blank canvas. In a few months, it will be packed full of color.