MORNING IN FRANCE ???

 

It’s a gray, gray morning.

I long to sit outside.  The sun on my face.

I am remembering a summer morning.

Good Husband is bringing me my café au lait.

My dear friend Jill has just returned from Paris.  She’s dropped a paper off for me to read.

I’m in my garden.

Lavender is blooming.

Perhaps I’m in Provence.  Or in a secret courtyard in the 7th Arrondissement.

 

 

 

This morning I am longing for summer.

Summer in the garden.

Our home is in the country.   The quiet air is filled with bird song.  I can hear the distant whinny of the horses in an equestrian centre down the road.  The horse next door answers.

I sip my coffee.  Rustle the newspapers energetically.

There’s no place like home.

Even when it is raining.

Advertisements

6 thoughts on “MORNING IN FRANCE ???

    • Thank you Angela. The container garden was a happy accident. Major work was being done around the foundation of our home. We dug up the perennials and the rose bushes and put them in the biggest pots we could find. Voila. A beautiful garden. And so much less work.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s