Showing posts with label Provence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Provence. Show all posts

Thursday, 22 June 2017

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM




































































"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
where oxlips & the nodding violet grows,
quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
with sweet musk-roses & white eglantine:
There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,
lulled in these flowers with dances & delight."








Wishing you a magical midsummer.











words: William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream
garden images taken at midsummer time in Provence
portraits of Ani, loveliness inside & out.)




















Sunday, 15 January 2017

LES COLLETTES
















It was a sizzling day in the South of France last June, 
when we arrived in Cagnes sur Mer 
to take in the old farmhouse & gardens of Auguste Renoir
~ his beloved “Les Collettes”, 
where he lived with his family 
for the final twelve years of his life. 
The estate is perched on top of a hill 
with incredible views to the Cap d’Antibes
and Haut-de-Cagnes.













As we ascend towards the main building, 
we pass under the shadow of olive trees, 
the kind Northern girl me has hardly seen 
~ centuries old that you can’t resist brushing with your hand 
to feel those enticing grooves, lifelines on the bark
~ etchings of the passing years, 
like lines on a dear elderly face 
with wisdom concealed in the depths.











It’s a surprisingly quiet afternoon, 
as we walk through the main entrance 
~ just one other couple & the two of us. 
We enter an unspoken pact to keep our distance, 
as if all here by ourselves, 
ready to hear the walls speak. 












And the walls  do tell their stories 
~ in unison with the peeling layers of paint, 
the far-flung ceilings, 
the sense of stillness, 

















the simply and sparsely furnished rooms, 
that caressing gold-tinged milky light 
that floods through the vast windows 
& fills you to the core. 
I swear I can feel it now.



























Renoir’s wheelchair & easel in his atelier 
are reminders of the pain & beauty that intermingled, 
that never ruled each other out. 
The creativity & persistence.

He painted until his death, 
even with his hands curled due to arthritis 
and being left in a wheelchair after a stroke. 

He looked for new ways of expression 
~ changed his technique,
an assistant would place the brush in his bandaged hand. 
He used a moving canvas to be able to make larger works. 
And he began to create sculptures with the help of a young artist. 



“The pain passes, but the beauty remains”
~ he is quoted as saying.




















“The work of art must seize upon you, 
wrap you up in itself and carry you away. 
It is the means by which the artist conveys his passion. 
It is the current which he puts forth 
which sweeps you along in his passion.”

– Pierre-Auguste Renoir





x





[All pictures shot last summer
at Les Collettes aka Musée Renoir,
visitor information here.]


















Friday, 21 October 2016

PALAIS DES PAPES


















My hardrive is bursting with pics from France
from the summer,
and I figured now would be the time
to start pouring some more of them
over here. 
Well into October now,
it's strange how quickly you forget
the sun on the skin,
melting that lavender ice cream you just bought
over your fingers... 



We visited Avignon quite a few times,
welcomed by the sight of 
that famous Pont Saint-Bénézet bridge
that abruptly comes to a halt in the middle of the Rhône
with only four of its arches remaining today. 


is a sight in itself...
It has grand proportions
but is simple & pared-down at the same time. 
















































After a day out,
it was always a treat
to return to our hideaway,
as the crickets were in the middle 
of their evening concert,
and the three dogs
ran up to eagerly meet us. 






x




















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Sunday, 31 July 2016

AFTERNOON IN ARLES














“To hear never-heard sounds, 
To see never-seen colors and shapes, 
To try to understand the imperceptible 
power pervading the world;"













"To fly and find pure ethereal substances 
that are not of matter 
but of that invisible soul pervading reality. 
To hear another soul & to whisper to another soul;"














"To be a lantern in the darkness 
or an umbrella in a stormy day;

To feel much more than know."














"To be the eyes of an eagle, slope of a mountain; 
To be a wave understanding the influence of the moon; 
To be a tree and read the memory of the leaves; 
To be an insignificant pedestrian on the streets 
of crazy cities watching, watching, and watching."













"To be a smile on the face of a woman 
And shine in her memory 
as a moment saved without planning.” 
















Sunday, 10 July 2016

MAS D'ARVIEUX












Dear reader,
you may want to get yourself 
a café au lait, glass of rosé,
or whatever it may be that tickles the fancy
- you're in for a loooong post. 
(Although more pictures than words.)



We'd enter through these gates,
then carry on along the long pathway,
passing olive groves on either side
along the way. 












And then we arrive in paradise,
our home away from home.














We stay in a simple gîte at the rear end of the estate,
where life quickly takes on a relaxed vibe,
the kind we'd hoped.
Tucked in the middle of countryside,
hearing the neighbour's sheep by day,
concerts by crickets by night.


We'd pick up veggies
that oozed in vibrant colours & flavours
from the local store,
 bread warm from the oven
from the boulangerie,
a short drive away. 



A beautiful base for scratching the surface
of all that Provence has to offer.
The feeling that for those few precious weeks
that beckoned ahead,
you actually "lived" there,
rather than followed tourist trails.


























We fell in love with the three dogs,
Gustave, Léopold & Lucette,
elderly gentleman Gustave 
especially stealing our hearts.
(There was a mutual thing going on there,
he had a habit of sneaking into our cottage
although he wasn't supposed to...)

Then there were the two white horses
my daughter would try to glimpse each day.. 
And human bonds, too,
for our daughter so strong
that parting with her new friend 
caused tears to stream down her face.

Dips in the pool 
during the hottest hour of the afternoon
& after long days exploring
nearby villages and towns. 














































































We've sworn we'll be back one day.
















x













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