Provencal landscape
... the southern slope drops sharply downward, gray and shaggy, covered not known as hooked on him with herbs and shrubs boxwood.
On a clear day, when the mistral clears the sky, the perspective in the direction of the sea looms clear, as if you are looking through binoculars.
There is a feeling that you are divorced from the rest of the populated world.
Evening light
One day I met there, on the top, on a road laid by a mountain service, a peasant on a bicycle. Behind him, a rifle dangled, a dog ran beside him. Both of us were frightened of suddenness, not expecting to meet another human being.
Usually you are here alone with yourself, no one interferes with enjoying the rustle of wind in the branches.
Days creep slowly, but weeks fly by at lightning speed.
We divide the year not by dates and diaries, but by the phenomena of nature.
In February, almonds blossom, the garden needs attention. It's time to perform the plan in winter, sometimes in panic rush attacks.
Spring is marked by the flowering of cherries, but now the soil is climbing and hordes of weeds. In the spring, the first guests appear, hoping that the subtropics will not let you down.
But subtropics often meet them with rain and wind. The summer is likely to begin in April, but maybe in May.
We learn about his offensive when Bernard appears to help us open and clean the pool.
Poppies in June, drought in July, thunderstorms in August. Grapes ryzhet, hunters wake up after hibernation, grapes are removed, the water in the pool begins to bite, then it cools so much that you dare only one masochistic dive in the middle of the day.
So, the end of October is close.
Winter is overflowing with good intentions, which are sometimes realized. The dried wood was cut down, a wall was built, old garden chairs made of steel pipes were painted.
Peter Mayle. "Provence forever."
Comments
Post a Comment