Happy days. Slung down low on the sofa next to my Sister, slurping up truths with our morning coffee and digging for answers amidst the croissant crumbs. The solidity of a quiet agreement of things that go without saying because they have always done so. Remembering what once was and who we once were without being precious about it because a certain now is just too appealing.
Happy Days. With a bit of puffed up pride introducing her to my world, this glowing Provence. Of sun tilted up, the castanets click of the cigales and the café chatter well into the night. Watching the ripple of discovery wash over her beautiful face or the pucker up tight from something different, like the tang from a fresh prune. I relax because she is relaxed and there is that electric wire of family between us.
Happy Days. Seeing her get to know my honey better and be wooed by my charmer of a pup. Of my getting to meet her wonderful companion and the joy I feel in seeing them together. Here. I am gathering up these memories to keep me warm in the winter of their absence, coming soon. But for now I will just be and enjoy.
So tell me, where did I take these photos? Any guesses?
Wishing you all a wonderful week ahead.
Well, I don't happen to have any sisters. My grandfather is one of four boys who had 2-5 sons apiece. Each of those had 2-4 sons. My father had 3 sons. Each of my brothers has 2-3 sons. I should emphasize that, in three succeeding generations, we were all twin (fraternal) boys.
One of my brothers managed to have a girl sometime during the Clinton admistration. She's now 17, and the only female (human or dog, and we raised dogs) in The Family that we haven't bought/imported/or otherwise brought-in.
Bascially?…since 1911 (the year my grandmother was born), we haven't had a single female born into the family (except for the newly-eyebrow-pierced niece).
Henry VII would have loved to have had my father's genetics….
Sisters do, however, sound sort of nice. Everyone seems fond of theirs.
Level Best as Ever,
David Terry
Hi Heather
Continue to relish every single moment with you dear sister. Time does fly by when we are having fun. You capture the mood of your time together so beautifully with these images.
Helenxx
I don't know what town you're in but I wish I was there! I can just picture you and your sister head to head reminiscing about the past. You're a true poet with words Heather and what's not to love about Ben?
XX
Debra~
Oh, I miss the French Cigales! The Cicadas here make a noise like one long buzzing hum. In France they sort of quack. I miss that summer sound track.
Hello Heather,
This is a beautiful post in tribute to your sister and her visit. The electric wire of family–I love that. Continued giggles and shared memories during the remainder of her visit!
P.S. I have been keeping up with your blog, although I don't always have, or take the time, for comment!
Sanda
This post is most poetic Heather, how lovely for you two sisters to enjoy each others company so much. My girls just spent two weeks together and it's a joy to see their shared pleasure.
And I would say you were in A en P!
xx
So lovely, Heather – truth in morning coffee and answers amidst croissant crumbs – your words paint a picture as beautifully as your photos do. I'm not sure where they were taken, but I'm quite curious. Hope you enjoy every drop of espresso, every crumb of croissant and every moment with your lovely sister! XO
Wonderfully written, Heather, (that should not surprise anyone,) and I also love these beautiful pics – I would agree with Anne, above, and guess Aix en Provence. So happy for you, for these special times sharing memories and your corner of the Old World with your sister. Profitez-en bien! Le temps passe vite… Veronique (French Girl in Seattle)
It is so refreshing to read of family visits that are a joy – not the norm. I can almost visualize your explorations and discoveries – both in place and personalities.
I think you were in Aix-en-Provence. I was visiting there about a month ago and absolutely loved it. Nothing in Australia quite like that.
Anne xx