The rain is a coming down outside my window but I am certainly not complaining. No. The land in the surrounding Alpilles is so parched, it is as brown as burnt butter. So I know that today is a good day, one to help the wild things grow.
And besides, I have so many wonderful memories to keep me warm--enough to last the winter that we didn't have! Do you remember my tiny video for Dejeuner sur la herbe? With the birds chirping insistently and the blossoms floating by?
We had headed to the Ardeche after a week that was so rotten that we had to drive into a neighbouring province to try and escape it. But Life can give us such gifts. Just to say, "Hold on, it will be all right". It was such a day. And there was even a touch of mystery in the old stones surrounding us. Celtic marks dating back two thousand years. No one knows what they mean.
"I'll be right here," I called out to Remi as he picked up his tripod and camera. "I'm not going anywhere," I added, half-giggling and leaned back into the petal-strewn grass.
How wonderful are those rare moments when vision softens into mere lines traced on the sky and there is no pressure to make rhyme or reason out of what is being seen or felt. Senses are awakened only to go back to sleep again.
Little prickles of fallen branches and the soft smush of moss under head. The worn husks of almonds already emptied of their treasures by an early harvest. Perfume carried past and then gone.
Ben arrived next to me with a thud. Panting. Tired of following Remi around aimlessly in the hot sun. And knowing that there were probably still some crumbs from our lunch that could soon be his if only he looked cute enough. He did.
I am not sure how long I laid there. Quite sometime. At some point I raised my head to see a chipper family winding their way back to the beautiful bastide on the back of the property after a long bike ride. Their happiness mirrored my own and I feel it again, fresh, as I type. No amount of gray capped skies can push that out of me. Let it rain!