I dreaming of being in a tree. Picking cherries. To make jam. The first kiss of knowing summer is around the corner.

Finally feeling my feet touch the ground after a week with our first French Muse Experience. My memories are saturated with color, the poppies fields waved, antique textiles piled with Provencal hues, Aurelie's studio splashed with pastels, Mo's pottery steaming…

    In my neck of the woods, there are fields upon little fields of poppies. Not California golden poppies, but red poppies.  Poppies grow spontaneously. Their colorful petals spread out like a picnic blanket over the fields. One can guess…

  We played our game, silently. The tree line stood between us. I knew he was weaving in and out, coming towards me. He knew I was trying to catch him with my camera. We both wanted to win. I…