Don’t you love it when, after a long day of clouds and rain, the sun suddenly emerges in the early evening? I think it’s especially nice in springtime in the country, when that late-day sunlight enhances the thousand shades of green that one sees all around, in the buds on the trees and the fresh new grass and the gardens and the fields.
It happened this evening, and I think it suggests an auspicious beginning to the long Victoria Day weekend. (Or, as reader Sash reminded us in a recent comment, the “May 24th weekend,” as we always used to call it. Except it often doesn’t seem to converge with May 24 in this crazy modern era. How did that come about?)
And I wondered: Could this time at the Manse be, for Raymond and me, Camelot?
(I know Raymond will laugh when he reads that.)
Anyway, while we’re pondering the question, let’s listen to the tremendous and much-missed Richard Burton, who for one brief shining moment on Broadway was the monarch of that magical place: