Perfect party, sacred Saturday night
Last night, all the factors aligned for us to spontaneously have a garden party. It was an intimate affair--attended by just the 4 of us: Rick, Roly, Lilah, and me--plus the various members of the wildlife population that call our yard "home."
We gathered here, in my happy place, where you can survey much of the yard and garden(s). I took this picture leaning back in my chair, hoping to capture my view from there so as to share the party with you. I was fairly successful with the view, but of course, the view is only part of the story. The photo could not capture the wafting fragrances of the petunias and honeysuckle on the evening breeze, or the chirping of the birds on the electrical wires, discussing the day's events. It didn't depict the sounds of Roly chomping on a small, green apple, Lilah licking her marrow bone, or the subtlety of champagne bubbles popping:
It was one of those evenings that we could never have engineered the perfection of. The way things worked out was nothing short of magical. The weather was perfect (mid-70s) with Denver's characteristic low humidity; the neighbors were all elsewhere, so no human or dog voices were present to intrude on the peace, and we had no other plans or pressures to distract from the moment. I had thought to throw together a homemade pizza before going outside, so it was ready and waiting to bake when we finally got hungry enough to move inside around 8:00. 
There is something about champagne and strawberries in the garden that just feels so right. It's probably because a dear friend of mine, whom, sadly, I've lost touch with, has a truly amazing garden back in North Carolina, and each Spring, we'd kick off garden season with a glass of bubbly in the midst of her ridiculously beautiful bulb garden. Her garden was the inspiration for creating my garden, so I drink a silent toast to her when the champagne and strawberries come out. Last night, as Rick toured the garden taking photos, the pups did their thing, and I sipped my 3rd glass of champagne, I was just enough buzzed to go into that weepy, sentimental place of total awe for my blessings, and I just could not imagine a place I'd rather be at that moment. The sights, the sounds, the fragrances, the energy--and, of course, being with Rick and the dogs--It was a far more holy, worshipful moment than any I've ever had in a church.
I'll close this entry the way our party ended, with the goat's milk feta, portabello mushroom, asparagus, roasted red pepper, pesto pizza we had (here, photographed on a well-used old pizza stone). This was taken before the toasted pinenuts were added. I probably don't have to tell you that it was a fitting close to an enchanted, spirit-filled evening.
Amen.
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