O Geranium, I love you since I can remember

It is almost nine o’clock in the evening now. It looked as if we would get a good shower - and perhaps some thunder - after a very hot day. But as soon as we had moved all the seat cushions inside, the sky is clearing up a bit. A fresh breeze comes down from the wood. And it is a real delight to sit outside on our terrace and write this note to you, who would like to read about what really made my day.

How can I explain to you that I could never have dreamed of the scene I will now try to describe.
Yes, we know you are sitting on a - your - terrace, so what, don’t you have any idea about our dream places, at the waterfront, along the canal, in the Bitterroot River Valley, Uh. What do you think to be so special about your situation? Well, in all modesty I should say that I feel in some state of fulfilment, if you understand what I mean.

Imagine, you have always had this dream: to sit outside at an old garden table. Evening is falling. Through the half open window you can hear voices, nostalgic music, a typical classical movie style of storytelling actor voice. Inside the ladies lie on the couch looking to “the Grand Budapest Hotel”.
Which I very definitely wanted to see also. But I know why to abstain when you want to focus on your writing thing. Meanwhile, the sky is light blue and rosa. Announcing sunset in half an hour.

When I look up and around I see and feel the silent presence of our trees, the old Oak, the Wild Cherry trees and behind me, the Beech. Uphill between the smaller trees and firs: the Hut. Darkness is already spreading. But you can still see the track through the grasses, ferns and bushes where the raccoon will soon come down for diner. A pair of crows flies over. Somewhere downhill a dog barks. Far down beyond the arch of big oak branches you see the dark green Weser river between so many greens and greens.

Did I ever dreamed of writing on a stone paved roof terrace? Never, well I can’t remember such a delicious, serene and liberating writing scene, perhaps somewhere like the vineyard terrace in Bellagio, ah!. Anyhow, I never dreamed to sit on my own roof-terrace surrounded by trees under an open evening sky and write a piece of journal to upload for reading in the internet. And on top of that: you can still see those Geraniums - a fountain of vermilion red - in the nearby corner of this terrace. Geraniums, that one flower plant I have loved as long as I can remember. That's almost a life time. You ask me what especially made my day? Well, it’s those Geraniums, behind them the River and Now above them high through the Oaktree leaves: that bright Moonlight. And that Hungarian piano music through the window. End of movie.