To an Ormandy, coffee is a necessity. If one of us turns a cup of Joe down, it means the apocalypse is at hand and the four horseman are riding. Coffee is as necessary as air.
It is mid-afternoon, and the sun is starting to bake the chairs and tables outside. My own deck is shadowed, which makes it the perfect location on warm days to sit in the shadows cast by the overhanging trees with a great book, a cat flaked out on the concrete by my feet, and a cup of coffee at hand. Even if it is not a very attractive coffee such as that depicted here; the apocalypse is not at hand. The day will turn into evening, the night following like it is meant to follow. An Ormandy has her cup.
And it is good.
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