Eating foie gras whilst listening to the sound of trumpets, according to Sidney Smith. ( I approve of the trumpets but not the foie gras.)
For me this morning, heaven was sitting on a hillside in the sun, surrounded by wild flowers and looking down on my block of flats, about 100' below. I had walked for two hours in the forest behind my home, got nicely lost, as usual, found a logging track and figured it must lead somewhere and emerged onto the hillside. I had a picnic (I always carry one now, having had one episode of feeling faint as my bp dropped through exertion and dehydration). I could very faintly hear the sound of the Matchbox cars crawling on the road below, but the only sounds nearby were cowbells and the hum of insects. There were clouds of butterflies, mainly settling on some flowers that looked like cornflowers, but were lavender.
I have lived here for three years now and loved every minute. If it were not for my wish to be near my daughter in New Zealand, I would stay here until I died, or at least as long as I was able to live independently.