Tuesday, 30 March 2010
Clouds and Flowers Opening
As we left the market Sunday morning, our vegetable lady called smiling that we were spoiled. We were laden with armfuls of flowers and fruit, cheese and vegetables. The flower man gifted me a bunch of mimosas, and we bought ourselves a pot of jasmine trained to grow around itself.
A guest arrived in the evening.
Today was a day for walking and walking. I watched as eight or twelve types of perfume were sprayed on different places up and down my arms or hers... and then reaching arms out to the man in the store... 'What's this one? And this one?' We each bought a bottle in the end, what choice did we have? The nice man threw in lots of things for free, so I guess he wasn't too angry after all. There were flowers on all the trees.
And cherry blossoms swathed in soft, fat-bodied bees...
We walked along the Viaduc des Arts, peering into windows at copyists painting the day away, luthiers, restorers of gilded articles and ceramics, and inspecting the bouquets on secretaries' desks. Also, we came across a deerman as tall as me.
Onion soup and artichoke for lunch outside, and then up to walk along a raised garden pathway with the rooftops by our sides.
And when the sky blackened and the thunder and lightning came up, we ran and were swept up in the crowd that gushed into Notre Dame, the place where it was decided that Joan of Arc was not a witch. The enchanted bit at the back behind the altar was closed off today though, and so we didn't get to glimpse the crown of thorns tucked away in its box.
And now it is tomorrow and I'm the only one left awake. Time for me to head off and take my sleep with the breeze and the rain calling at my window.