A true Sunday. Sleeping in late then dipping carefully shredded Italian brioche into my coffee, listening to our friends that had stayed over after a joyful evening as they mused on this and that, their knowing to let me be until I am fully awake. Each paging through picture books with waving lapses of silence filled only with the ping-pong of Baroque. Meanwhile, beyond the window-pane the sun was arm-wrestling with the clouds. It won and was victorious. Out we wandered, working up an appetite for the omelette aux chanterelles that Chef Remi had promised. I took my camera along as the light was singing just to me, I felt that I had the sun in my arms and love in my heart.
Hungry from looking, we stayed at table until 4 pm, lingering over the St. Marcellin and sweet clementines. After our friends said their goodbyes, it was time for une petite sieste, the kind filled with sleeping without sleeping, the best I know. But I could hear noises outside my window as I dozed and was finally drawn to see what could it be. While I was dreaming, workers from the city had been as busy as bees, stringing up, then testing the lights for the Christmas season. I smiled at the Milky Way just below my feet, as they winked little hellos while lighting up the dark.
Amelia…you bring me a lot of happiness. That's all I'll say for today.
Thank you,
H
Oh what a lovely thing to say, Jackie! I hope that you hit your deadline and can truly relax now!
Merci Teresa Maria, thank you for being here!
Wow. Maybe a goddess came down to visit to give me that title? You left me speechless with that one, dearest Suze.
And Remi had questioned the inclusion of the 19 photo–now I know why I wanted it, for your Father.
Big hug,
H
You silly goose. I don't think that Remi would be too keen for such an idea!
Cheers right back at you, Wyn! And I love the word evocative–one that sound like what it is…
Thank you Jeanne! But as I am going back to the States in one week I am already floating on a cloud!
Bisous,
H
I love your photography too, Loree! So few of us get to Malte and yet you share it so generously…
Only you would come up with the Shoemaker and his Elves. How I love the way your mind works!
I feel exactly the same ways about Sundays, Barabara. They are my reading days!