63 degrees and windy. Spring. iPod. Sunglasses. Time. A feast for the senses as I walk through the neighborhood.
What I learned:
It takes an hour to go about a mile if you stop and smell every flower.
Peonies have a riotous smell that brings tears to my eyes; I want my life to be like that flower smells.
Songs can feel like colors; Barbara Streisand’s voice is golden-salmon stucco. She nails “Can’t Help Lovin’