The sweet joy of Spring

Last night we drove up to Atlanta and we went to the Atlanta Botanical Gardens, then to the parking lot for Trader Joe's on Monroe Drive. What a disaster of people trying to all occupy the same space at the same time. That was fun.

In the midst of that I just wanted to leave. Even as nice and cooperative as everyone was being, or trying to be. And I could feel all the people squeezing together and looking into their faces and seeing fun or concern or joy or sullenness or nothingness. And trying to avoid or join in for a second. Just a second.

And people were walking around. All around. In different directions. Like a basketball game without a ball and no patterns. No baskets. No goals. Just movement together and not.

After we left, we were trying to figure out where we would go for supper. And I told Kate to pick heads or tails. She chose heads. So we drove over to Virginia Highlands and I dropped Kate and Cindy off in front of Osteria 832 and went down the street and turned and found a parking space and walked back up to the restaurant and we checked in at the front and then went over to the bar and ordered a bottle of good red wine from Spain. As we drank our wine, they finally called us over and took us outside to sit down outside for the first time when the end of Winter seemed within our grasp.

Then we relaxed and ordered crisp salads and a bowl of mussels, in a white sauce with garlic and tomatoes and basil and a bowl of bread. It was delightful. The pizza with olives and capers and eggplant and red peppers was good too. The flavors were savory. We ordered more bread after the mussels were gone so we could dip the bread in the sauce.

Later, Kate bought us gelato for dessert. What a night.

Then we had to lose an hour.