Every so often, the breeze slips through the screen door, unscented today because the wild vine grown lush and curly up the wall of my second floor stone patio is bloomless. My nose appreciates the reprieve from wisteria's tyranny, No blowzy perfumed punch to the sinuses today, no sir.
The sky is a faded, milky blue crowded out by a mix of fluffy popcorn and that dense layer of dirty white that says, ha, and you thought you'd have a drink outside tonight, no dice, I'm gonna open up and cry all over you. Honestly, those clouds have been rude bullies all spring. Do they even like raining, do you think?
All day, I've been touching base with what's going on through my open door, staying in the moment, exercising my five senses (taste: mint gum. The flavor of which technically *could* come from the garden beyond, so I'm going with it) and igniting my imagination (what if we could train the vine to grow in origami shapes?).
I'm all lit up with possibility and potential. And it feels good (cue the music!).
Want a piece of the action?
Then might I advise an open door cocktail, stat: 5 parts senses, 1 part dreaming.
Mix well, drink liberally, and see if this magic elixir doesn't imbue you with a sense of wonder and well-being.
Bonus alert: this recipe is calorie free!