Texture hunt, part deux

The streets have been abandoned.

I mean as in they are truly, utterly, I could skip down them naked while playing a ukelele and no one would notice empty. Not that I plan on doing that mind you, it is simply far too hot and I would be afraid to sizzle the pads of my already blackened feet. 

We are in the midst midst of our third week of mid-90’s to 100°F temperatures with another in front of us just announced. It has been enough to silence even the most hardened locals who tried to blithely declare, “Mais, c’est ça l’été!” No, my friends, we usually get a week of this roasting oven in August. But this? C’est pas normale.  Even the scrappy cigale in our olive tree has barely enough energy to shake his belly into song.
When I do head out – early or late but never in-between and covered in a ridiculous hat – I can’t help but resee this little village under this clawing light that exaggerates light and dark, heightens surfaces and blurs the normally solid line between opaque and transparency. My neighbors old stone walls have bumped up into the surface of the moon or Mars. Like Ben, our wise Golden, I hopscotch from shade to shade all the way out to our garden, which, by the end of the day has baked, hard earth and wilted greens. I can hear it sigh with relief as the water comes rushing through to the roots.

It is a time for not too demanding manual tasks as the most basic intellectual pursuits escape me. Books tumble into my lap as I turn on my belly to nap. Ideas and words have locked themselves into the drawers of my desk, refusing to come out until the temps have cooled, making it impossible to write. Photos for posts have piled up, knocking at the computer screen for attention but I just stare at them, blinking.

I am not complaining, of course. Remi has been in the midst of photographing a really interesting project that I will share with you later on under blazing studio lights for the past two weeks, the dogs are forced to wear their fur coats which droop heavily after I hose them down and renovation work continues with the heave of new roof tiles and the churn of cement just down the street.

Perhaps this is more of a billet-doux in an apology form for not being more active here. I usually go quiet in the winter months; this is unexpected. But I find my brain as vide as the streets and there is a form of texture hunt going on inside – both within the walls of this closed up house and inside my rather empty noggin’. But I keep thinking back to my friend J recently admitting that she likes jet-lag as it takes her to this kind of dreamy place. And so it is all a question of perspective then, as it always is.

For I do find Provence incredibly beautiful even while she is sporting her most dashing summer clichés, presenting her best angles to the visitors who have come from the world over to admire her…I just feel not entirely a part of all the buzz but rather am floating along beside it. Perhaps that is not a bad thing after all…

Happy Summer Days everyone and Bon Weekend…

42 comments

  1. Our summers are always the same. I can't do anything when it is so hot outside. It shapes everything in the summer.

  2. Your photos are wonderful; I can almost feel the heat radiating off of them. And I love how you weave the textures of that hot-and-hazy frame of mind. We usually get that kind of heat here in September/October, just when it "should" be fall. Hope you get a break soon!

  3. “Do I dare to disturb the universe?” the familiar question of T.S. Eliot’s Prufrock.
    But what’s happening to the weather worldwide?
    Napa Valley had the real hot 95-102F summer and may come back again.
    The brain is not a cauldron for creativity. One feels sluggish not dreamy. Still, one needs a space for expression, or an anchor or “texture” , “a question of perspective”.

    I wish you a “cool” weekend.Plenty of ice?

  4. I love the visual silence. It just as if one should take a siesta, then a cool drink. Relax. Beautiful photos.

  5. Heather we are having a heat wave here as well, after weeks of rain!!
    The flowers are beautiful though and it is nice to be reading and watching good movies!

    xoxo
    Karena
    The Arts by Karena
    Gratitude

  6. The enervating characteristic of heat extends to mind and body. Our temps were hot, hot, hot for a couple of weeks and I accomplished zero. It's cooler now but we're headed upwards again over the weekend.
    Love your shot through the slit in the stone – on the other side there will be cool green loveliness.

  8. I'll bet I won't be the only one to say this, but it LOOKS hot there!!! We are amazed – not only that you can manage to leave your house and lift your camera, but that you also can still take wonderful pictures! I do love seeing all of the nooks and crannies of your new village and love your musings on being heat addled (but nonetheless I'm hoping for a lowering of temps for you SOON!!!).

  9. oh my gosh. and last summer it was rain rain rain and more rain. Weather in Provence is so DRAMATIC! courage!

  10. Heather, I will remember this when we have a few hot days next week — it has been a lovely, moderate summer here in the Northeast so far. I don't function well at all in the high heat and humidity that we often get here so I admire your ability to create such articulate words and photos! The ninth photo from the bottom, in particular, takes my breath away — those leaves glowing through a slit in the stone. Yes! Stay cool my friend.

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