Everyday sites.
France is eye candy to my soul.
Candy I never grow tired of.
It is a doorway to my creative inspiration.
Doorways, paths, shops, that I have seen over a hundred times but keep on surprising me with their power.
Fruit and vegetable markets that can make my heart pitter patter after twenty some years.
Where worn umbrellas stand against stone facades, on streets that the Roman first paved, places where tourist flock, and tapenade is sold.
Yes indeed, French-ness runs sugar high in my blood, along with a little wine and a few chocolate eclairs.
Oh France you tease! Your second hand stores that tempt me with your old furniture with your ridiculous inexpensive prices, tempting me to buy antiques as an investment, tempting me to stuff silly my garage, and dream of filling a gigantic house where people could come and visit and drool with me.
Old furniture turns me on. Dang, I got the brocante bug, the second hand furniture bug, and the decorative design bug all wrapped up in one, badly.
You know you got the old, brocante, antique, design bug badly when you start to see outdoor awnings as something that could be used above a stove in the kitchen.
You know you got it badly when you want to ring the door bell and ask the owner if they want to sell their awning.
You know you got it badly, when the owner looks at you like you are out of your mind, and you don't even feel crazy when they say, "Are you crazy?"
Bad real bad.
France.
Facades.
Building with old beautiful apartments, that are in my mind's eye, stuffed silly with old things.
Where the blue skies of Provence, that France is famous for, don't get me going as much as the desire to go inside (i.e. house, barn, shack, garage, chateau, dungeon…) and discover the possiblitiy of seeing another Louis something or other.
Cobblestone streets,
Shuttered windows,
My friend's sandals that I pinched from her closet while cleaning it….
Maybe I should give French tours.
Then I could ask French chateau owner's if I could give tours of their homes without them thinking I was crazy for asking to look inside. I haven't asked, honestly I haven't…. but if I gave tours I could.
But I would be a terrible tour guide. Because I could see myself talking up a storm with the Chateau owners, looking in their attics, telling them it is no problem I could clean their basement, and sure I could stay for dinner, and help them set their table (just to see their plates) and why not I could pinch a tent in the garden just to eye the fountain… and then when the owners asked me where are the people who you are bringing for the tour? I would have to say, "Oh I left them at Laduree's eating macarons, or at the brocante, or with French Husband, or Annie, or sitting at a cafe in Cassis. Hell, I don't know, I just wanted to visit your house you see."
Crazy.
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Notes:
The photos were taken with my iPhone. I haven't mastered it yet, they are still a bit blurring but I am working on it.
Books you might like:
French Country Hideaways: Vacationing at Private Chateaus & Manors in Rural France
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