Home.

I'm home in Atlanta now with luggage to empty and put away, laundry to wash and weight to lose. I will be drinking smoothies for the next few weeks. But however many pounds I've put on, it was so well worth it--all those fresh Italian meals and desserts, the camaraderie that good wine facilitates...life is too short to deny myself this. And I've returned home with a new appreciation for sandwiches made with focaccia and pesto, rather than the usual sliced bread and mayonnaise. And mascarpone. I have discovered mascarpone.

I returned to my cozy little home, with what, after about 6 years, is beginning to look like a real garden.  The little dogwood tree I planted weeks ago, a leafless sprig of a thing given to me at an art festival by the Arbor Society, has sprouted new green leaves, my gardenias are all in bloom, filling my home with that incredible perfume (which always reminds me of my mother--it takes me back to my 7th grade in Clearwater, Florida--vividly). My tomato plants doubled in size, my sweet potato plants are thriving. I may complain about minutia, but I have been blessed. I am grateful.