The town of Cassis, I have written about it many times on my blog, is a little pearl of a town. Situated between Marseille and St. Tropez, on the Mediterranean sea. Unlike Marseille it is small and quaint. Unlike St. Tropez it is not ultra chic. It is simply a pearl for whoever ventures down the road dotted with vineyards and searches for a parking place.
Restaurants dot the port, small shops sell there wares, the beach is a stone throw away, and glorious trails for every type of day tripper.
The walk-way follows the outline of the small port, sea on one side, restaurants and shops on the other side.
This cold, but blue January afternoon three men sat in their boat.
They had their "oursins" (urchins in English), bottle of white wine, baguette, silver spoons and beakers.
Sharing a meal in simple style.
My friend Sandra asked if we could take their photo. The man answered, "Sure, but you must promise me you will frame it in a gilded frame, put it by your bedside. Also put a vase by it, but not with roses, only a pink carnation. Promise?" Then he laugh teasingly and went back to his lunch.
The day went by. But my thoughts remain sitting by the man in the little boat in Cassis. I wonder why he insisted on a pink carnation. I know I am funny like that… one word, one tiny gesture, a sidewise smile seems to flutter inside of me longing for meaning. French men do not just throw out words, they speak with a purpose, even when teasing. Especially three men dining on oursins in a small boat. Too romantic… a gilded frame, a silver spoon, a red scarf wrapped around his neck, and beakers… who brings beakers these days?
When we returned home, I went upstairs, grabbed the book off the shelf, "Language of Flowers", looked up pink carnation and read: "Never forget me."
"Oh, I won"t Mr. Man in the Boat at Cassis," then I winked to myself, "But the gilded frame is my blog."
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