It was 7 a.m., and that terraza floor was damp from the thick fog that obscured the nearby mountains and even closer trees.
The air measured 50 degrees, according to the mercury thermometer that’s hung out there, nailed to the window frame for nearly a decade.
Fall is upon us, and it shows.
I put on my dark watch cap and the black Robert Redford shirt-jac, and my child bride donned something similar, especially over her delicate ears.
We walked down to the neighborhood plaza and did the obligatory six laps to keep us young and lovely. On the way back, she stepped into a little general store to buy bananas for the cereal that comes later.
On the downstairs terraza, I sat and removed the crusty hiking boots from Academy Sporting Goods in San Antonio, Texas, and I put on blue Crocs sandals.
Then I went upstairs and scooped up the wind chime, placing it on a step of the circular red stairwell to the rooftop. I’ll do something about it later.
Later when the sun comes out. I want to see the sunshine.