Ah, this is the good life. Here I sit on the back patio at dusk, enjoying the balmy evening air of a Florida spring, watching a pair of birds court each other at the feeder hanging just outside. The birds go unnoticed by the cat, who wanders aimlessly on the cool concrete as if searching for a spot still warmed by the waning sun. I, however, watch and listen, captivated as the birds twitter and trill their intentions while flitting from feeder to fence posts to tree limbs and back. In the background, running water cascades peacefully through a tiered fountain topped by the statue of a girl, from whose chiseled seashell the water eternally flows.

The sun continues its descent and the landscape lighting flickers on, spotlighting the neatly shaped shrubbery and surrounding vegetation—a grouping of small but impeccably manicured palm trees, the leaves and blossoms of a fruit-bearing lemon tree, and the tropical bird of paradise plants that will be strikingly beautiful when in full bloom. The illuminated reflection in the flawless, unbroken surface of the still pool as the evening grows darker is stunning. Nearby, a vine overtakes a wrought iron trellis and trails casually across an exterior window. The dimmed tiki lights and street lantern add a gentle glow to the scene. Now the crickets begin their chirping song. Soon, the hot tub will erupt in steamy jet action, inviting this blogger to sink into its swirling, soothing waters.

Wait, we live here? This can’t be! Somebody pinch me. I must be dreaming.