The Magic of Wimbledon

    How can you not love a country that does Wimbledon? And what a winning Wimbledon weekend it was. 

    Almost tailor-made for us, we arrived home Friday afternoon just ahead of one of the most epic finals weekends. Played not far from our flat here on a sunny, warm London weekend -- simply amazing tennis in probably the best tournament the world knows showcasing world-class American talent. And grit. 

   Wow.

   Not that we went. We just watched it on TV, but still, it was special. And right here where we live. 

    First the Williams sisters -- that great American sibling success story from the wrong side of town -- duking it out in the women's final on Saturday. And then winning the doubles together later. 

    And then American Andy Roddick slugging his heart out -- and actually playing better tennis in my humble, biased opinion -- against Swiss champion powerhouse Roger Federer on Sunday. 

    Yeah, it would've been sweeter if Roddick had won. But still, not too shabby. 

    London -- and our neighborhood -- was full of all things Wimbledon, and so positively adorable too. We weren't sick of any of it yet either, like you get at Christmas, because we'd missed it all being away.

   A florist on our high street put together the most inventive window display of tennis balls and ball-shaped flowers that simply robbed your breath with its ingenuity and freshness. Succulent strawberries and fresh cream -- that Wimbledon staple -- were elegantly stacked everywhere.

    I got a glimpse of just how much London was THE place to be this weekend on our flight home.

    Remember, we got bumped up to business class by giving up our seats on the previous night's over-booked flight? Well, up there in business, we sat next to an American family who was flying in just for the Wimbledon finals.

    "My husband's a tennis nut," the trim, attractive wife explained. Uh, okay. So this is how the rich live. Four business class tickets for you and the kids and Centre Court final seats just for the weekend?

    Yeah, baby. Gimme some of that. Is Serious Money the answer?  

    The weather didn't disappoint either. Big irony that the first year they build a cover for Centre Court, so rain doesn't keep delaying play, hardly a drop falls. 

    After the amazing Federer-Roddick final, a match that looked like it could just go on forever, my husband and I took off on our bikes for an evening ride. Too beautiful not to.  

    We cycled over to a historic house and its sprawling gardens nearby -- our favorite close-by destination.

    A cricket game -- with all the men in their sparkling whites -- was unfolding on a greener-than-green lawn in the evening sun. 

    A man was hitting tennis balls with his young son nearby. We joked with him about how he was grooming the next Federer. Couples and families strolled through the large grounds with its massive trees arm-in-arm.

   We rode around awhile and then stopped on a bench by a stream, faces towards the sun, the huge grey historic house in our sights. 

    It felt good to be back.