“Produits du paysans!!” I point and yell with the glee of a willful child that has just won the final round of “I spy” during an exceedingly long car trip. After catching his startled breath, Remi swings the Range Rover over to the side of the road. We are in need of supplies, red wine namely and where better to procure them than a shop offering “Peasant products” (oh all right, that is the literal translation but I couldn’t resist). Remi dives under the yellow awning, a tiny bell rings as he opens the door and I step out to stretch. We are in Lodève, unexplored territory, on our way to rent a safari tent in the Haut Languedoc region. The dogs are panting in the back so I pop the hatch to give them some fresh air and ruffle the fur on top of their Golden heads.
Proper scratchies take time and so I let my gaze wander while my fingers do the work. As luck would have it, we have pulled up in front of an impressive and mysterious building. Closed, abandoned? No. There is a bright green metal mailbox tacked to the side of giant wooden entry doors like a sparrow on a rhino’s back. The something something Archeological Society. Hm.
I tilt my head up and up to take in a stone portico, sober and sobering. This must have been a church before and for quite some time by the looks of…what?…the details. As if stepping in to a darkened room, my eyes adjust and I see them. The oddly placed numbers carved into the planks, a connect the dot code of a lost language. It is no less secretive than a barely legible chalk scrawl…”il faut a les…” no, I can’t make it out. What is it that we “had to do” here? Something before entering? A warning not to enter?
I pull myself a part from the dogs to run my fingers in and out of the swiss cheese holes of what once must have been smooth stone. How very long it must have taken for that to happen. How very long for the paint to chip and then be painted over and chip again. Rust has oxidized around the locks but not enough to close them off. They are still open and waiting. As I touch them, I can hear the jangle of time’s keys approaching and soon.
The tinkle of the bell pulls me out of my reverie and I see Remi laughing over his shoulder as he says his merci‘s and aurevoir‘s, a characteristic I love about him, always with a kind word. We pull away but before the adventure continues, I take one last look at the nameless, faceless building, one that becomes more so by the minute with distance until it resembles a blank slate of nothing. And yet I know it’s tiny secrets and feel quietly reassured by having read through their layers like Braille. “On and on and on, we keep going,” they whisper. I listened. I nod. I know.
Today’s post is for the September issue of the By Invitation Only International blog party.
This month’s theme is “patina,” a subject close to my heart. While I have the good fortune to live amongst spectacular scars and beauty marks that portray two thousand years of history in Arles, I thought that this doorway of a forgotten church in a forgotten town conveyed the essence of what patina means to me as well.
To discover the other fine entries–and I am sure that there will be wonderful takes on such a gorgeous subject–by all means…Please click here.
I am especially excited that the incredibly talented and lovely Penelope Bianchi is joining the group, now in it’s third year. To see her contribution…Please click here.
dragged and drenched
by time,
a dwelling,
the scratches and scars,
a tale, buried,
till touch
thank you also for the music.
yes. a book of essays.
Karin, I am ALL FOR taking a break from the internet, blog world and computer from time to time!!! Trust me, if I had your beautiful garden to play in, I would too! 🙂
I am so glad that you liked the post and the Mozart! Somehow I had never heard this quintet and love it so much. And thank you for all of your compliments too!!!!
Gros, gros bisous,
H
YES, proper scratchies take time! My own ones are built up over decades 🙂 🙂
Love, love your post, absolutely wonderful images, dear Heather! You never disappoint me. You have certainly THE eye for details, even for the tiniest ones!
And together with Mozart's string-music, what a pleasure to read your post, to look at the pictures, the "scratchies", simply full of authenticity.
Warmest greetings from the Périgord,
Bisou et tres amicalement,
karin
P.S. Sorry for my long absence and non-commenting to your – always – wonderful posts, wonderful in the way I've described above. Having a bit of a rest from internet, blog world and PC, for a while or so. Just got myself together for our monthly post;
A bientôt – k
Hehehe. A cat? Noooot a goood ideeeaaaah David. Kipling really almost pulled me off my feet this morning lunging after a giant black dog. A cat would be made into brochette tidbits by lunch time.
But I will absolutely keep the rest in mind and love the idea of asking folks if there are posts that they appreciated more than others, especially as I know that the ones that I like "best" aren't the ones that have been the most viewed. Heck, there are so many from the beginning that only my family, you and the Contessa have read!
It is taking me forever to go through my photos. Three times a week for nearly three years means a LOT of photos. But it is helping me (with my terrible memory) to see what could work and yes, I definitely think of it as a scrapbook–there is no way on Earth that I could even think of it as any other way…!!!
Do you honestly think that people would buy a mix of old and new essays with lots and lots of photos thrown in? I don't think that I have enough readers (291 members, 524 email subscribers–a laughable amount compared to many a fellow blogger) to garner interest…?
And…to steal one of my favorite phrases of yours…for the record? Remi does his thing and I do mine and it is just right like that. Even my Mom thought that he was taking some of the photographs for the longest time which insulted him and made me miffed! But he is a fabulous editor when I ask and going through the photos has made me see his teaching more than anything. Wow do I still have soooo much to learn. It would be daunting if I didn't enjoy it so much.
Lucky to have you as a friend,
Bisous,
H
And that makes me think of the flower-print on your Grandmother's dress, G. Traditions that have a life, as you say, long after the original source of it is gone.
That and the cheese. Yep. 🙂
Absolutely. Mumbai, if you get a chance, quite a few of the other wonderful ladies have written about just that and it is gorgeous. So worth your time to take a look…
Oh I hope so, it would be the least I could do to return the favor!
No no no, I am the one with an insanely talented beautiful Sister. Me. And that would be you.
And it was eerie! I sooo wanted to be able to go inside–I like spooky places!
I loooooove yooou,
H
Gosh, do you really think so?? I read this in the middle of the night (I was awake with a tummy ache, all better now) and I can't stop thinking about it!
But my oh my do I have respect for your instincts…
We know that we are going to have to move on soon and keeping our eyes and ears open. I will keep you posted!
xoxoxoxo