Yours Truly just discovered a gorgeous mystery bouquet of roses at the door. No card.
If You are the sender, thank you beaucouply.
Following is my annual saintly analysis of Saint Valentine, ol' Mysterioso.
As You epinw fans do know, Valentine remains a special combo platter, an amalgamation of two persons, possibly both saints – a veritable tag team of lovelorn, perhaps matchmaking, men of circa 269, to be rather exact in a circa fashion.
According to the yellowed Dictionary of Saints in the collection, Valentine had not a dangblamed thing to do with courting couples but, rather, in some geographical places birds court each other this very day. Courting birds. . . courting couples. Birds of a feather. . . commercialization.
Makes complete and utter sense to YT.
Geo-san moments ago reminded me of the glories of the Acme HeartMaker, a bona fide (since we are also speaking of saintly matters) treat.
As I blog I should like to note my excellent, Valentine (whomever the h.e.l.l. he really is, somewhere)-approved cd choices: a compilation (who says friend-made compilations are like so dead) of love-ly tunes by Reese, as well as a comp of re-done classic love tunes acquired yesterday at Starbucks. The re-do of the Smiths's (lovingly referred to by me as Smiffs) There Is a Light That Never Goes Out is remarkable.
Lisa Forrest sent a beautiful VDay poem today to her friends.
Geo-san also turned me onto this, go there at once.

All my Love, imagined & possible.