The two pickles are staying with me (Yann is sailing with a friend) while Chelsea and Martin prepare to move from Paris to Provence.
Our little town has sixteen fountains; most are from the 19th century. The water is from a natural spring, so the sixteen fountains were dry for the last few years when the drought was at its worst.
Instant free entertainment. Splashing.
I should share photos of each of the fountains, duh, after living in this village for longer than I have lived in one spot ever in my life: thirty years. My, what a reality check. I have lived in this village longer than I lived in the States.
Sixteen fountains, and not once did I toss a coin in the fountain.
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