My head is lolling towards the open window where my hand lies out-stretched, conducting the breeze.
There is a sense of sweetness – not scent nor taste – that coddles my skin.
And in the blooms we stop to gaze at, I see a promise.
Of growth, of continuation…where age falls off into l’oubli…
…Most certainly for the olive trees that had died of a frost bone deep in the ground so many years ago and yet they wave wildly as I pass, gleefully reborn.
I reach for my camera and idly snap, catching at nothing in particular but the essence of all.
Remi is driving next to me and I here him quietly chide me for being so casual in my photography. “It’s not respectful,” he tells me for the tenth time. A smile rises on my lips and I snap again, kissing the air.
Doesn’t he know that I am in love with the softness of the Provençal spring?
Beautiful blue skies…ah, how lovely…you had me a little confused travelling lady…until I read another comment 😉
Happy Weekend xx
Thank you Lorrie, I do appreciate that!
It is interesting being here in Michigan where it is already the lushness of summer, so different…
Oh, he just gets on me for taking snaps out the window!! It is more about treating the act of photography with respect – something that is understandable coming from him. 🙂
Always such a compliment coming from you Meredith. 🙂 Scratchies to Orvis, please.
He DID? Oh my, I have to run and see….!!!!