Salut de Berenx!
September 7, 2014 § 1 Comment
I’m working on a small farm in France. The days have been simple and symmetrical. Rewarding, challenging, and terribly sweet. I am thankful for rose and baguettes that appear in the kitchen each morning like magic. The fog over the hills in the dewy cool hours between seven and eight. Repetition of wearing the same clothes (two alternating pairs of men’s levi’s, leather workboots, t-shirt), gathering tomatoes, raspberries, figs. Feeding a wild brood of chickens every morning. Swooning over every little thing: the herbs, our smallest black sheep, the language. Reading a ton, not writing enough, but still categorizing my days through the objects and setting. Living is storybook here, silly as it sounds. I can’t effectively describe leaving a southern state and waking up each day in a village in the southwest France. But there are photographs.