If I have been posting less of late, it is for a very simple reason–it is too hot. My brain is in a state of suspended animation. For those of you from far away, please be patient with your French bloggers who are all in the midst of a canicule or heat-wave, one that has put several regions on high alert. I had already sweated my way through the last in 2003 when an estimated 15,000 people died. We now know to plan, to conserve our energy and to take special care of our furry friend, Ben. But there are still places to go and people to see, visitors to tend to.
On our way home from a recent outing, we took a small country road that we had never travelled before–as we are wont to do–and came screeching to a halt at the sight of a gift from the heavens. A source or spring burbled in a shallow pool that had been created with old stones and lined with a paved gravel by some kind soul for the benefit of all. The water was icy cold, from deep within the earth.
“Do you think Ben can go in?” I asked. He had rolled in the dirt earlier in a desperate attempt to keep cool. A bath would do him good in more ways than one. “I don’t see why not,” Remi replied. Ben couldn’t seem to believe his good luck. He pranced about, lifting one paw then the next…
…and then sank down with a sigh. His eyes glazed over and he became very still.
I cast off my sneakers and sank in my toes. Remi joined me.
We sat like that for some minutes, utterly content. The chill slowly worked its way up from our feet all the way to our brains until we felt completely restored.
Isn’t it lovely that such a small moment is one of my very favorites from this Summer?
Have a wonderful week everyone…
It is, indeed, lovely, Heather. Magnificent photos of Ben and a beautiful way of articulating the experiences. I myself feel refreshed at having read about it.
We've also experienced our first-of-the-summer (two years actually) heat wave and I know what you mean about its effect on the ability to write a coherent post. . .when one sweats just sitting at a computer, creativity is washed away. Love the photos and your fantastic find.
Oh, Heather….I've been thinking it all moring…so, I might as well just SAY it…. publicly and without any reservations or self-imposed censoring…..
Yous and the Remis' images pictures of the art of life and good-times from a photo and writing world making in nature-time with springs and sexy good handsome dog make me vibe, think, dream, and trip.
That may not be the most commercially-productive review you and Remi have/will ever receive…..but you've got to admit it's the most unique one…..
I just printed out what I regard as my favorite, unsolicited review ever, and I pinned it above my drawing desk. I love it.
I'll admit to still having no idea whatsoever how I'll respond to it. The writer seemed utterly sincere.
—david terry
Fraicheur, fraicheur a l'ordre du jour! I love these photos of the beautiful spring and a refreshed and renewed Ben. Bonne semaine to you also, "Heather des Sources…" 🙂 Veronique (French Girl in Seattle)
Heather, I'm so glad you, Ben and Remi found a reprieve from the heat! It looks cool, calm and beautiful. How lovely, too, that you have a perfect memory in the midst in what must not be the best of summer, to say the least. I was in France during the 2003 heat wave, and have to say it's the only time I've been absolutely miserable there. I'll be sending chilled thoughts your way. Take care of yourself – and your furry friend Ben! XO
ooh too cool!!
To very, very cheesily quote the orgasm scene in "When Harry Met Sally": "I'll have what she's having"… 😉
Well, it is a pity but I will back Herve up. Just look what happened to Jean de Florette (and ps. when we meet, you might want to ask Remi to do his impersonation of Yves Montand in that film but I would wait to do so until after he has had a few glasses of wine).
And even though the spring has been corralled and made public friendly, I kept imagining it with ferns all around and fairies dancing above…but wait, that is probably more suited to your ps.
Our old Ohio horse farm (when I was growing up) had not one but two little creeks (or criks if you prefer) running across the property and there was no better place to go and dream.
P.S. (and almost entirely off-topic): I could write this to you privately, knowing that you and Remi, as free-lance artis/writers, would cackle over it….but this is so fascinatingly wacky that I'll share it with your readers.
A sufficient amount of entertaining weird-shit (i.e., fan mail) manages to come through my website's filter, but this (which arrived early this morning from someone with a vaguely Spanish name) takes the cake for ultra-enthusiastic babbling:
"I had a dream of 8 island even though i never heard of it before, I
told my brother and he google it and this site appear with this image that make
me vibe, think, dream, trip. Ii would love to know more about it.
I bealieve that when and artist have finished and art pieace he stan
out from the painter roll and give another meaninga to his art.. But I would
like to know the root of this inspiration. Thanks!"
(I should add that the person is referring to a very queeny&doggy, campy old picture of mine titled "Jo-Jo & The Msyteries of Love on Figure Eight Island". You may recognize Figure Eight Island (it's on the North Carolina coast) as the place where the Clintons and Gores hung out, on occasion, during their time at the white House.)
Please pass this on to Remi….wouldn't he love to hear, in regard to one of his pictures, "this image that make me vibe, think, dream, trip"?
I'm awfully sorry that Robert Hughes died this past week….but it appears that the world still has at least one innovative art-critic.
vibe-makingly yours as ever,
David Terry
http://www.daviedterryart.com
Well, that's just lovely, Heather.
My only disapointment with this old house (for those who don't know…it's 220 years old, and we bought it two months ago) is that, while there's a wellhouse out front, down by the road, the spring and springhouse are long-gone.
They were out-back. I've read excerpts from diaries (this is a town that's been highly self-conscious of its history since at least the 1950's, when the Historical Society was formed, so there are plenty of "books" on Hillsborough) and various memoirs that describe the Spring. The core of the house originally was (in 1790) a schoolhouse, run by the spinster-daughter of the conlony/state's first governor for thirty-some years. Several students from the 1830's mention the "big Spring", with ferns and a rock border, and ledges filled with perishables in the springhouse.
There's not a trace of spring or springhouse now; it was all covered-over and diverted when the town got a civic water-system in the 1930's or so. Isn't that a real pity?
As you might guess, I've thought about renting a backhoe and playing Jean de Florette in the back lot, but Herve's reminded me that, courtesty of the Historical Association's covenants, we're not allowed to do so much as change the color of the shutters.
In any case, your day at la source makes me very envious…but thanks for the predictably lovely posting.
—-david terry
http://www.davidterryart.com