Month: March 2013

 I can here the question mark in your head. But I have a series of photos that I took in Detroit that I would like to share even though it is a subject far from the usual fare at Lost in Arles. 

I was moved by my brief time in the Motor City. The push pull energy while questioning, bitter bites of decades decay and small nickel tokens of hope raising up like flags of non-surrender. 

It is an American dilemma. 

There are a whole lot of symbols out there.

It was a hazy morning and the heat took us by surprise. And yet the ground had not yet dried. An oily mud clung to our boots and the brambles of barren blackberry bushes pulled at our jacket sleeves. It wasn’t magic, it was slightly oppressive. But it was where we needed to be.

As the extremely dangerous chenille processionnaire are out, we can’t take risks with the dogs and so brought them to the path behind the Chateau de Barbegal as it is a relatively pine-tree free one, which means less potential for trouble. Remi and I both love to let them run ahead, to forget their small town limitations for a bit. It does us the same good. 

That change of view, that infusion of emerald rice stalks cut through an inner and outer fog. At last the path widened and the remains of the Roman aqueduct rose up to our left. Shaking stones of nothing than nothing of the all importance it once was. But more of that another time.

I struggled to keep my footing in the uneven terrain and looked down to do so. And there I found, as I always do, the Alpilles that fascinates me the most. The texture and just so juxtapositions that draw me in until I forget about my buzzing numbness, tired cobwebs or questions.

These messages. My messages. I remember them and count them off like beads on a rosary or a mala.

These old stones underfoot, they have been here so much longer than I have. So keep following the path…

…keep following a path.

One has to be prepared…

…and willing to bump along mercilessly pot-holed unmarked dirt roads that have left previous adventurers stranded far from civilization…

Ready to pass mysterious ruins that have been backhanded by history…

…and continuing on, persevering even when your goal is still not in sight…

Until at last you have arrived at the (in)famous plage de Beauduc and have the entire beach to yourselves. 

Beauduc, a secret passed on between fellow Provençaux. A wild place that is literally off the map…

We felt as though we had fallen into fortune’s sea on this first true day hinting happily of spring.

Out the puppers bounded, muzzles low sniffing, breaking into wide arcs of zoomies. Faster than faster for the sheer joy of it.

And yes, there was reward a plenty for the humans too.

Paté en croute, saucisson, cornichons, caperberries, tiny peppers stuffed with anchoiade, caviar de tomates and crunchy baguettes to spread it on, authentic German potato salad, Colummiers and Comté cheese. Not to mention a bit of wine. 

Isn’t it amazing how much better everything tastes at the sea?

…the dogs had their fill of falling crumbs. Beach time is a generous time…

…and finally beyond time. At some point it had slowed to gentle disparition but no one had noticed.

We were too busy enjoying ourselves. 

 At the end of the afternoon I lead one last toast declaring, “We don’t need more than this.” The moment would not have been any finer if Champagne had replaced the Bandol or caviar the caviar de tomates. All we needed was to be right where we were, in fine calm company, sipping in the sun. At the end of the world we all were given another beginning, a pebble to put in our pocket as a souvenir of good times well won.

Two photos, taken on the same gorgeous evening stroll through the Alpilles.

I hope that they tickle your fancy as much as they did mine…

Speaking of feathers, in the “Light as a…” kind, because can you ever see this too many times?

I didn’t think so.

More soon. But wishing you all a wonderful weekend ahead…

PS. Just wondering, is there interest in a separate blog for photo updates of Ben and Kipling?

“Tell us about the thing you most want to do, reality or fantasy, that you have never done…money is no object.” This was Marsha’s directive for this month’s theme in the By Invitation Only series. Now, I know, you might be shaking your head wondering, “And how did she get here exactly?” 

While I am incredibly grateful for all of the extraordinary adventures I have experienced so far, I also feel confidence welling in my heart when I remember that at times the “perfect” moment is right where you are. With that thought, I had prepared something else entirely, which I will share with you soon. It is happy and very French. 

And yet, after returning from my walk this morning, I sat down and wrote this poem. It felt appropriate too, that unreachable, mysterious beauty in the everyday. So I headed back out with my trusty little camera to try and capture a bit of that moment. It was like chasing after balloons.

And just so you know, the man out of time was nowhere to be seen…

To discover what I am sure will be a truly fascinating range of responses from the others in this international group, please click here.

I also want to thank all of you so much for your wonderful responses to the news of my Mom’s engagement. As she herself correctly noted: 

“Heather’s readers are the most articulate and charming clan ever !”