Champagne Henriot brut souverain, and more ...

This is the one that seemed to me spare and masculine, like a plain almond on the dessert plate, as opposed to the rich, "feminine," cookie-dough-like Heidsieck Monopole a few days ago.

I've decided that I must create a breakfast nook in my home, filled with pictures that will remind me of leisurely summer mornings in Michigan, and coffee and a book by the lake forever. (Is it really a week ago already that we were packing up to go home?) There is my hat. And I vow this picnic table, half rotted and charmingly moss-grown, is old enough to be the very same one upon which I sunbathed as a little girl.  

My Michigan breakfast nook must include photos of cloudy majestic dawns.

 
There must be cheerful sunny midmornings, full of puffy summer clouds.

There must be the memory of water lilies, and quaint still lifes of bench, rake, fence, and anchor.

 There must be swans, and sometimes mist.

And sometimes not. 

There must be the memory of last night's moon.

And there must be anticipations of adventures yet to come.

We'll talk.