The world is all shades of green after days of steady rain with stanzas of sunshine.
The air smells like sweet honeysuckle.
We are wearing matching mother-son outfits. Well, sneakers at least.
There is fried chicken for lunch. With cornbread and green beans and sweet tea. After all, this is the day of the Fried Chicken Festival in Gordonsville.
Strolling along streets with names like Baker and King and Market and Main, it seems summer is here already, beckoning us from the porch swing.