I love. . . Fortunately.

I love. . . The cold; especially in places where it doesn't really belong; like San Antonio, Tx. I love. . . The smell of fresh cut grass. I love. . . seeing the biggest buck go out to eat after the sun sets. I love. . . Actual musicians. I love. . . writing so much the muscles in my hand begin to pump battery acid and my bones feel like glass. I love. . . singing while the tractor is running and nobody can hear me because, let's face it, I can't sing. I love. . . not wearing my glasses for an extended period of time and then putting them on and. . . seeing what I previously thought to have disappeared. I love. . . Getting cold to the bones and having the sun warm me but only for a minute or two because then I will sweat. I love. . . pushing the rules; not breaking just. . . almost breaking them. I love. . . a good expensive pen and some 100% cotton paper. I love . . .the stars at night on the beach. I love. . . Your hand in mine and your hair in your face, blocking from you the fact that I never look anywhere else but at you. I love. . . You in your Sunday best. I love. . . Your Toms and your absolutely adorable feet. I love. . .