In the Garden

So here we are, in what feels like a new decade even if the numbers-minded (who were last heard from reminding us that the millennium really began in 2001) disagree. I find that since writing so many fewer checks, I don't honestly notice the change of year as much as I once did, but even so it seems quite odd to already be so far in to the 21st century. Time in its flight and all that...

Which doesn't, I suppose, have a great deal to do with this picture taken while visiting a local museum in Miss Rheba's company last week, although there is something comfortingly non-transitory about this kind of garden.

The house feels quiet today, for Miss Rheba jetted back off to the hurly-burly of the U.S. of A. at an ungodly hour this morning, and as a result Mr. Muscato and I find ourselves sleep-deprived, or rather even more than one usually is on January 1, and enjoying that quiet, sneaking sense of relief one experiences upon the departure of even the most treasured houseguest. I think we're ready to face the new year, but we're taking an extra day of vacation just to make sure.