I grew up in a convertible household, and my father gave me his 1973 Oldsmobile Delta 88 ragtop in 1980. I drove it until we moved to Ecuador in 2017. All those years I had a term, "Convertible Sunset," for pink evenings that flattered the Olds' yellow paintjob. We (Janet and I) still say that when we get a just-so pink sky here in the Andes. Anyway, there was that beguiling Convertible Sunset just now, so I took a shot looking back over part of our house's front terra-cotta roof into the now glassed-over-former-patio family room with its shelves stuffed with books that had to come with us to Ecuador. Other people's houses beyond and to the right, slammed up right against ours. It's graciously particular:
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