The old colonial bungalow sat in the deep lush topical garden. High in the hills outside the sleepy capital city that lay in the deep palm lined bay of the big sea. The house was surrounded by a cool wide verandah, and the roof hung low and cast welcome shade on the smooth, well-worn terrazzo floors.
The verandah was littered with heavy old wooden plantation chairs, stained a deep tannic brown, but comfortable looking and welcoming. Each plantation chair had a small wooden table next to it, and the wood on top of each table had deep circular stains. Continue reading “Whiskey Tango 800” »