Honeysuckle’s sweet fragrance swam through the humid afternoon breeze, lending relief and a soft caress to the peak of the day. The season changing and orange blossoms blooming on the trees all up and down the canyon. Linen cloths hanging upon the line between large sycamore trees the light dancing and winking as the laundry swayed. Golden, citrine beams beautiful and pure across the worn plank table, scuffed and scratched from years of family use, Meyer lemons roasting in the oven, milk boiling on the stove for fresh ricotta, mouthwatering aromas that is what made the house a home, the feeling these scents, tastes and memories brought about was almost too overwhelming to step through the door. A glass of wine poured and a gesture to the well-loved leather chair, senses settling, a sigh of content, feet up glass in hand dripping with perspiration. The first sip, bright, quenching, and smooth.