In Charlotte, I live in Paradise.
I’m the only guest on a heavily wooded, English-garden clad, koi pond filled, 5-acre estate, tucked an eighth of a mile from the main road.
It’s so private in fact, that uber drivers often miss it.
There are hundreds of towering trees which are finally beginning to turn. Autumn has at long last fell in Charlotte. My favorite tree has begun to blush with the cool air’s approach, going from a sullen green, to a smiling yellow; it’s leaves now a bright amber as it waves its last hurrah.
Yesterday I spied not one but two red-headed woodpeckers dancing from limb to limb and sometimes upside down. Squirrels bolt in the silence like shoppers at a rummage sale. A half-dozen hawks circle overhead, calling each other, their voices describing meals below.
I wish each of you could spend ten minutes here.
It is simply Paradise.