Both HB and Gail have talked about photos of the day. Last night, scouring the cupboards for something to prepare for supper, I came up with a few eggs, some cheese and these beautiful peppers. The insides and the color gave me a rush of purely sensual, cave-woman pleasure after a long day inside my own head.
A few days ago, I told CR about my friend who liked getting flowers from her boyfriend, but didn’t much like the flowers he chose every time. CR must have decided I should have flowers, too, since he brought home a beautiful pot of tulips that very afternoon. (He is a fine flower-chooser. When I was struggling with the book that will be published next spring (previously COOKING FOR THE DEAD) it was an orchid, blooming deep luscious pink, and the name of it was Julian, the same name as one of the main protaganists. Another time it was a braided money tree, that is now scraping the 10 foot ceiling in the dining room.)
This morning, watering the tulips he brought the other day, I noticed how beautiful they looked in a band of sunshine:
And wondrously amazing up close, all vivid seduction, silky and powdered: