Tag Archives: modest beauty
..things that are and things to come…
Grey skies and flat light during yesterday’s stroll, around our tiny hamlet of La Moussière, signally failed to obscure the magic that was hidden under a thin veneer of dullness. Looking for pictures is my foraging. The locations of the … Continue reading
Not dropping my knickers whilst shopping….
I like to feel that I eat seasonally but, to be honest, I’m not sure what that means. My knowledge of the arrival and departure dates of fruits and vegetables is, at best, rudimentary and at worst, notional which failing I blame … Continue reading
The frog and the photographer…
Notwithstanding the promise of a magical transformation into handsome prince, I can understand why princesses were hesitant to do tongues with a frog. I feel the same, yet over the last few days I’ve been emotionally involved with one of … Continue reading
the rhythm of thyme….
Monotony has a way of reducing dreams to ashes. We need a change from the monotone. an arrhythmic interval such as is provided by the warm rain falling on my bare feet, which protrude from beneath the awning, as I … Continue reading
Ladies who lunch..Chez Papa..
Uncovering treasure is not an accurate science. I say this with an authority that I do not possess, as treasure and I are rarely, if ever, seen together or even spoken of in the same breath. The same can be … Continue reading
Gimme a red courgette….
This is a fine example of the failure of language through intonation. One slip of a consonant and the farmer, formerly known as Vince, is staring at the curvy rear end of a rosey courgette cropper rather than the rude … Continue reading
Spare the wax, spoil the pear…
“Never judge a pear by its nail varnish” was a caveat drummed into me as a young pear fancier. Yet there I was, confronted by a tray of pedigree Passe Crassane, each one seductively stretching out a glossy red manicure … Continue reading
Myrhh balls…
The sun today has been smothered under a dull, damp, grey cushion leaving the world silent and lifeless. I have the feeling that nature is in mourning, and with every reason as it feels as though the kind has been … Continue reading
Would Caligula have chosen a plate of leeks whilst watching the Circus Maximus…..
The modest beauty of this bundle of tiny leeks puts to rest the concept that big is beautiful. I needed fresh eggs which entailed some slipping and sliding across icy lanes to reach the farm of Mme Roustand, just over … Continue reading