I begin writing this just before 5 a.m. It's a beautiful time of day when the few humans stirring might be particularly dedicated partiers, inordinately early risers, or just nocturnal. Excepting those whose vocations summon them involuntarily from their cozy beds, these hours are for the curious and the pensive. The world breathes differently in the early morning, sharing tranquil secrets with those who wish to discover them.
Though we usually drink Rhein wine at the outdoor Shakespeare performance, we hydrated with a Riesling from Württemberg this year. The evening was sweltering, the play was cute and the Riesling was cold and good with our picnic dinner.
Upon leaving the park, I discovered the rear tire on my bicycle to be dead flat. I encouraged my wife to ride on without me but she refused, and so we began the walk, pushing our bikes alongside us. There were hordes of people out enjoying the evening, one of rare beauty in a summer of lovely moments but few splendorous days.
