There were no bells ringing in the afternoon’s promise of snow. But maybe it was too cold for snow, too dry for any sort of precipitation. That’s the theory, anyway. So without bells, the regulars gathered at U Sudu to celebrate a birthday. Well, the regulars needed no contrived reason to occupy their favorite seats and caress their favorite beers or glasses of wine, no excuses to warm their throats and bellies with the seductive, caressing burn of Slivovice, chased with the acrid sting of cigarette smoke. I was once told that U Sudu is where you go when your soul needs a moment to rest; apparently souls need many such moments, if you judge those things by the number of barstools and booths filled with the most familiar of faces. So… …There were no bells ringing as I walked into U Sudu and accepted a sip from a flask of home-made Slivovice from the local exterminator. Business is good for him. He bought a new motorcycle last summer. We chatted for a while, he gave me a cigarette lighter and another shot of plum brandy, and his email address. The retired agricultural specialist was at his usual table, with his usual glass of wine. I see him every day a the same time. He comes for a single glass of wine, maybe two, and a fancy sandwich, garnished with slivers of dazzling, red pepper. If he’s particularly gregarious, he’ll begin his daily stay with cherry juice. Today, he shared table space with a DJ. They engaged themselves in a lengthy conversation--a three-beer chat, which means they intended to talk for quite some time. Well, they chatted, yanking a stool over to themselves and motioning for me to sit. And so there we were…a retired beekeeper, a DJ, and a writer from Chicago. We spoke of birthdays and snow, and America’s Route 66. For me, it was a three beer chat, for the DJ, the number stood doubled, and for the gentle beekeeper, there were only two glasses of wine, but two more glasses of cherry juice and ginger ale. As the afternoon diminished, it came time for me to make my departure. --I will see you tomorrow-- promised the beekeeper. --Come back tonight-- offered the DJ. --Party-- I’ll return, for birthday greetings to the bartender now exactly 10 years my junior. I’ll hoist a beer with the DJ. And late, late, late in the night, I will sleep. Years from now, I know…I’ll remember the bartender’s birthday, and the beekeeper’s declaration that Spring is the ideal time for my return. **** I took this picture (and added a touch of post work) just one hour before making this post. As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting on this and my previous images.