What Snow? I Don't See Any Snow, Do You?

One week ago, in a galaxy far away, if by galaxy far away we mean Deerfield Beach in Florida,
Howard and I had lunch at a place called JB's On The Beach.

This was our view:

We sat on an outdoor terrace, were served ambrosial seafood
including a divine she-crab soup,

. . . and soaked up as much of the breezes and beauty as we could.

The day before, we'd had lunch with my old, old friend Mardi and her husband Joe:

at their beautiful home in Parkland.

Mardi has the cutest dimples; they were already there 'way back in Kindergarten, when we met.

We dined by their pool, in the screen room, and I was so lazy in the peaceful warmth that I didn't
even get up to take other pictures, just clicked them from where I sat on my well-fed patoot.

Howard got a closeup of a cactus. Compared to my itty-bitty

Christmas cactus from yesterday's blog post, this one is King Kong.

Having heard good things about Publix Supermarket bakeries, and wanting to do as the locals do,
we picked up a cake from that august institution of the South for our poolside lunch.

White cake, raspberry filling, cream cheese frosting:

Mmmmm. . . .

We ate healthy slices.

And yesterday, with temperatures hovering around freezing,
Staten Island's star ground hog Chuck, New York's premier weather prophet,
saw not his shadow. . . and winter was proclaimed vanquished for this season.

Today we have this, outside That Old House:

No, no, it is not snow. It is not snow.

It is a new fluffy mulch for those tiny green shoots getting ready
to reach up through the soil for the warm sun that is somewhere up there in the gray sky.
Somewhere.
I'm sticking with Chuck.

Happy Outdoor Wednesday!

Go visit Susan at A Southern Daydreamer for more views beyond our walls.

Click and be transported! -- Cass