A truly stunning morning. The heat has broken. Friday's rain wiped away the white smudge in the light and something has changed. Yes, I know that autumn, my very favorite season, is on its way because of that subtle shift towards gold in the air.
And so a walk with Ben was in order. Sunday mornings are always the best time, less horn honking, less tourist pushing. Just the bells of St. Trophime, calling and calling the faithful then thanking them heartily. I could feel that sound in my bones as I headed up the hill towards the Arena, watching the shadows bend as my path did. At one moment, the ringing was so loud that Ben startled and looked up at me with wide eyes. "I know, Ben, it's the bells"--I always talk to my dog at length wherever we are. Just another one of those wacky ladies, I suppose.
I am certain that Remi will criticize this post as he has similarly in the past: "Stop only looking up!" But after so many years of living in New York City where I spent so much time looking at my feet, it feels wonderful to change my sense of orientation. Happy to see. And I do look straight ahead, at the details. Grapes dangling over an arbor in a small square. Or even down at the mix of pastels swishing in Van Gogh's garden at his former hospital. Beauty is after all, the best treatment there is, no?
In between two seasons, with a new apartment, a happy dog at my side, a Sunday full of promise.