On Valentine’s Day, as we were driving to our planned dinner destination, we passed one of those hastily assembled roadside flower vendors. You know the kind—set up by some enterprising, or possibly needy, individuals cashing in on the big romantic holiday. As we passed, my husband spotted them and said “uh-oh, I didn’t buy you flowers.”

Not that I expected them. After a bajillion years of marriage, getting them would have been the novelty, and I say that without rancor or bitterness or any other synonym of that emotion. I liked my mushy card and box of chocolates, but more importantly, here is where he took me for dinner:

This is the view from the restaurant at one of the many vineyards in Temecula, California. I haven’t visited Napa or the wine country of France, so I cannot personally compare, but this was not shabby at all. A clutch of long-stemmed Colombian roses is always a delight, but an evening view like this? Magnificent!