I want to be a writer. That is my dream. To spin a tail, to tell a story....a good story. I love to read and since my mother taught me all those years ago, I thank her for this yet unfulfilled dream burning up my insides.
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| Local pork shop, by the beach |
And here in France, along the coast of the Rivera, I hear the call to write even stronger. There is something so romantic and novel about being here. Even among the modern life there are undeniable elements of old world lore and charm and thousands of stories lurking around every corner, just waiting to be told.
It has been raining out for the past few days but I have grown tired of being locked up in the house so twice I have dragged Dennis out into the wet weather to walk through the town with me and down to the water. Being here along the mountain side, everything is a walk down and a climb up. When we headed out yesterday the sky was heavy and the clouds dark but off we went on my insistence. By the end of the stairs leading to the beach the rain had begun. We ducked into a tiny restaurant where we sheltered, somewhat, from the storm brewing outside. With coffee and a croissant to share, we watched the waves lashing against the shoreline. How strange that only a few months ago this beach was full of Europeans enjoying the summer sun.
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| this was before we had to run home |
Instead of lessening, the rain became harder and soon we felt drops on our heads, even from inside the cafe. Dennis has not happy.
We decided to make a run for it...through the puddles and the driving rain. No umbrella and neither of us wearing hats, even though Denise suggested it 42 times before we left. Up and Up the stairs we climbed back to the apartment....soaked and shivering. It was wonderful.
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| Poor, cold Dennis |
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| New outdoor cedar bathroom |
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| Olive tree garden |
So today when I suggested a
walk...Dennis brought both umbrellas. And good thing. It started raining down on us while
we strolled through the olive tree garden. We were surprised by the changes that have been made since Summer. The tress have been trimmed back and different flowers are blooming now, like magnolia. They have built a new out door bathroom facility, very nice, from cedar wood and with a stone pathway. Even for a bathroom, it is lovely.
We made it home a little less soaked thanks to the umbrellas and enjoyed hot chicken soup I had made the day before, while Denise shook her head at our young foolishness for running around outside in the rain. How can I explain that there was nothing else I would rather have been doing? Well, curling up and reading a good book might be another choice....or writing a good book. Other than that, running around in the rain with Dennis, in France...there is no better way to spend a Thursday.
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| The spring time is close |
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| What can I say? I was attacked |
It has been raining out for the past few days but I have grown tired of being locked up in the house so twice I have dragged Dennis out into the wet weather to walk through the town with me and down to the water. Being here along the mountain side, everything is a walk down and a climb up. When we headed out yesterday the sky was heavy and the clouds dark but off we went on my insistence. By the end of the stairs leading to the beach the rain had begun. We ducked into a tiny restaurant where we sheltered, somewhat, from the storm brewing outside. With coffee and a croissant to share, we watched the waves lashing against the shoreline. How strange that only a few months ago this beach was full of Europeans enjoying the summer sun.
