I also savor bouquets of pink peonies, but that's a different matter.
Tonight - or should I say this morning - as I go to bed, I take great peace and security from knowing that:
Everyone else in the house is long since sound asleep.
Rain patters gently down in the darkness outside.
The house is clean, from top to bottom, and ready for the new day ahead.
My plans for tomorrow are sorted.
Ranger snores gently at my feet.
These are the joys of being a night owl, the sweet moments of contentment and pause that no early-to-bedders can ever savor, or even understand.
And though, as usual, I will miss tomorrow's sunrise and golden moments of early morning stillness, I wouldn't trade my hours of late-night solitude for anything.