A light lace of spiderwebs hugged the rail, and yet, my balcony welcomed me back yesterday. I took a seat with a couple of cookbooks and a beer for company. It was breezy, sunny, and just what I wanted at the end of the day.
I’ve seen all kinds of birds in this neighborhood — woodpeckers, blue jays, sandhill cranes, hawks, crows, vultures — and one or the other were chirping and flying around. Downstairs, my neighbor sat on her patio showing off her old Brooklyn accent while catching up with a friend. Strange wisps of creatures (are these bugs?) congregated by the sliding door.
It’s been too long since we sat out here. One of the chairs is broken, and I keep forgetting to remember to water the plants. The mint is crying out.
Yesterday we saw our pet alligator is still out and free in the canal behind our place; those gator trappers that showed up last weekend didn’t catch her. Phew.
The grill is tucked in a corner, and it’s probably a good weekend for pinchos. Around 7:30 p.m., when the sun is real low, goosebumps covered my legs. I took my books and empty glass inside.
But I plan on coming back this weekend, this time with mugs, our new beloved French press, and Danny. We used to spend weekend breakfasts on the balcony, and it’s about time to bring that back.
This French press coffee deserves it. It’s richer than our Tuesday morning coffee, almost inky, and smooth. I’ll need to pick up some coarse ground coffee in a light or medium roast, and then all we need is some biscotti or madeleines. Am I alone in this enthusiasm for the French press? If you haven’t, I think you should try it. It’s a wonderful way to start the day.