Summer is a royal feast for the senses. The color of the season surprises me over and over again, it never grows old, nor ordinary or expected. The season's gift is appreciated. Oh, that Provencal blue sky against the golden wheat. Gasp. It is the first time, isn't it? Do I smell baked bread?
I know I do.
The earth soaks in Provence: thyme, lavender, rosemary, fennel and certainly the Mistral stirs it then with ease, passes through the air, tangles with the rain soaks within the rocky clay soil to the roots soaring to the vines... and the wine flows with the scent of it all.
Abundantly.
Abundant life.
Pleasure under my feet and above my head.
French countryside wealth.
I will miss this summer it was one of the best.
This is one of your best posts ever, Corey... thank you for sharing your world with us, and God bless. As always, it makes me want to return to France so very much. Have a good day.
Posted by: Helen Packard | 26 September 2019 at 05:32 AM
How beautiful. "French countryside wealth" indeed. You see things through a poet's eyes. Thank you so much for sharing with us.
Posted by: Debbie Z. | 26 September 2019 at 07:34 AM
Truly lovely - but oh how I'm loving glorious fall in the south of France! Driving through vineyards, the vines heavy with grapes ready to harvest here in Occitanie, the scents of fennel, mint, and other herbs of the garrigue drifting into the open windows as we pass, a cool breeze blowing in from the open balcony doors as we sleep at night, every meal enjoyed in the still-flowery courtyard. Fall is my favorite season!
Posted by: Anne Woodyard (@MusicandMarkets) | 26 September 2019 at 08:53 AM
But Oh the memories....
Posted by: LeighNZ | 29 September 2019 at 03:51 AM