I was sorting some old pictures today and came across these from 2008. It was a memorable evening, just an hour or two before closing, and David and I were exploring the National Portrait Gallery in D.C. There were few others beside us that night. The Gallery was preparing for some gala event and musicians were tuning their instruments. I tell you, there is nothing like wandering alone quietly among all the faces of all these long-dead heroes (and villains), with the strains of violin and harp in the background.
There were these fresh lilies in one room. Just by themselves in a silver vase, on a richly inlaid table, until we made our entrance. The air was rich with their perfume.
Wandering quietly in the Gallery felt like being Lizzy exploring Pemberely, all alone. It was a beautiful evening and it was beautiful remembering it.