This is the view I have every morning when I drink my coffee. It makes me glow inside and gives the day a good start.
It’s a view with so many stories. There’s the little table where we have lunch when it isn’t hot and say “kalimera” to people walking by. Then there’s the white petunias that Rita gave me before she left because she knows I like flowers so much. And the airplane plant in the hanging basket is from a cutting Connie gave me the summer she was into propagation and rooting away. I love the orange of Angeliki’s trumpet vine but I like her apricot tree even more because every summer she climbs on the roof to pick the apricots to make jam (and gives us a jar!). We could never have a regular screen door otherwise Volver, our cat, couldn’t go in and out as he pleases. Sometimes he naps in one of the chairs after biting at the lemon grass or sits on the wall so that, if they happen to walk by, sight-seeing tourists can photograph him. There’s often a beach towel or two draped on the chairs indicating we’ve been to the beach. Everything I see is talking.
This view is a book of short stories just waiting to be read.
Above is a photo I took many many years ago on the island of Giglio (Tuscany). Seemingly incongruous, those three doors next to each other struck me as some kind of philosophical statement. Although each one was different in height, color, and design, their purpose was the same. Like people. Despite our divergences, we are all related. We are all equals.
Related: What Does a Red Door Mean? The History, Origin and Meaning of Having a Red Front Door