John called from the lower place where he'd been mowing and proposed that we take a bottle of bubbly down to the pond and enjoy a pre-supper bit of wisteria appreciation.
The big vine hadn't bloomed at its normal time, and we'd feared it was dead. Halleluiah, it was just resting!
The fragrance of the blooms is sweet and paired with the smell of new-mown grass, quite wonderful.
We sat and sniffed and sipped and watched a snapping turtle surface then sink. There were dragonflies and bass to watch . . .
And this annoyed little lady who has a nest in the rafters of the little pond house and didn't appreciate our presence.
A brief shower danced over the pond's surface, tracing rhythmic pockmarks on the water.
An hour well-spent.