We are dust and to dust we return.
In the end we are neither air,
nor fire, nor water, just dirt.
neither more or less just dirt,
and maybe some yellow flowers.
Us, because why not?
My beautiful friend, Brit. I love her dearly. A heart made of gold, really. And she looks great in pink, doesn’t she? 🙂
Her on a farm day. And a dream door.
Me and some yellow flowers… in the main market in Dijon. The owner of this stand was so nice. I was so shy to go up to him– especially with the language barrier, but my friend Brit made it seem like not a big deal at all. She kindly asked if I could take photos between his flowers. He was more than gracious. And afterwards he asked if he could see my photos and told me they looked great 🙂 I know a lot of people say the fresh have their noses in the air when it comes to americans, but we’ve never had that experience at all. We’ve only been greeted with kindness, even through the sometimes painful language barrier.
A day we got very wet…
and had Indian food in france. Well, sort of. The sign said Indian, but the food didn’t feel very Indian at all. Still good.
My little photographer.
More of my flowers.
A day in Beaune.
My main man, Miguel.
My other main man, haha. And a pretty little vignette.
Burgundy in winter… still cold and still dreary, but maybe slightly more romantic than a winter spent at my mom’s house in Massachusetts. And certainly a tad warmer too. But maybe the warmer weather is due more to climate change and not necessarily because it’s what the earth needs. I’m not sure.
Alex looked at me last month and said, “So it’s determined, we should never travel anywhere in winter where it will be cold. No matter how nice the place is, you’ll struggle.” And he’s right. We shouldn’t. We’ve learned our lesson. Not that traveling to my mom’s house was a plan of tourism and adventure. It wasn’t But it was a place a place of refuge after a rough time– a place we planned to bounce from– onto bigger travel trips. A failed attempt so far, but we’re working on enjoying life regardless.
And it’s not that I’ve always dreamed to travel in France in winter— I certainly haven’t. But when deciding to go east this year for travel, we thought, why not? We were freezing in Massachusetts anyway, so what difference would it make to make a stop over in France in winter?
And while I don’t love winter– in any part of the northern world, I’m grateful we could spend some winter hibernation time with friends we love. I’m also grateful that Marlowe could experience that side of the world for the first time. A week in… and she was sad to leave France. She played and read by the fire. She discovered new places and art and more. The week flew by for her and she was sad.
I don’t blame her. Yes in winter the produce options are not abundant like they are in other seasons– but everyone is still more tied to the earth and organic farming and natural foods than they ever will be here in the States. Things seem more simple, unfussy, and less *more is more* feeling than here. I’ll still always pick the tropics over anywhere else, but France is high on my list for places I’ve enjoyed my time in. And I’ll be grateful any day or any week that involves love, kindness, and bundles and bundles of yellow flowers.
We love you Brit and family. Thanks for your love and your yellow flowers.