I love to see synchronicity coursing through the internet, giving little zaps as it zips along. Fellow Provençale transplant Vicki Archer of French Essence asked the question today: "Do you take photographs in colour waves?" Beh oui, I do and some of my very favorite posts have come about from that line of sight. Not to mention, in the "Great Minds..." category (a-hem), I had already planned to share these emerald tainted photo slices. How do you like them apples?
These were all taken on the same afternoon of our farewell luncheon in the Luberon, as I sucked in the sun with sweet contentment. Little did I know that they would end up being an Ode to the Spring that Never Came. Ooh spring, why do you hide? Why must I must painfully try to explain your absence like an unfaithful lover? Or something like that. For we have had nothing but rain and the temperatures are the coldest that they have been in years ("Je crois depuis les 1800 et quelques," decried the gentle lady on the quay with her blind bloodhound baying at her side). Yesterday, Remi and I took a rare break at a café for our first "Monaco" of the season and the waiter announced that the temperature had dropped eleven degrees (Celsius) within the past two days. No wonder everyone was a-chooing around us. And sure as shootin', when I took the pups out thirty minutes later, the sky chose that precise moment to open up and let go. Merci!
Everyone is cranky, even Kipling, who is tired of me towel-drying the disco crimps on his ears.
I am positively green. Green with what I will let you infer...all while wishing you a Bon Weekend...