#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

. . . a red wheel

barrow

glazed with rain

water . . .

~ Excerpt from “The Red Wheelbarrow,” William Carlos Williams

Will it be rain or shine today? The morning sky threatens with clouds and humidity as Frank and I walk to a cafe for breakfast. I check the weather; it looks like thunderstorms and rain are predicted. Hmmmm. But, it’s warm, and growing warmer. Frank decided to get a ticket to the women’s final at Roland Garros and I decide to take a long walk, as long as I feel. Should I wait and watch the weather? No. I set off toward Luxembourg Gardens on foot. About a half hour walk. Instead of rain and storms, the sky clears and it becomes very sunny. By the time I reach the gardens, it’s hot. I sit by a fountain in the bright park to have my morning meditation. I sink in quickly, deeply, for my 15 minutes. Very refreshing and pleasant to have a very slight breeze and the hot sun on my arms and face. When I leave the gardens, across the street I see a familiar, famous quote: The Red Wheelbarrow. It’s a bookstore, an Anglophile bookstore. I must go in. I end up buying five books, one for my daughter who is feeling under the weather. It’s a Frances book, a children’s book, “Best Friends for Frances”—one she doesn’t own in her collection. I know she will appreciate this! The bookstore owner is quite friendly and talkative; tells me it’s one of her favorites, and that “Bedtime for Frances,” which we own, and is on the shelf too, is controversial in Paris—because of the threat of a spanking! she says. Well, we laugh. She reads me the suspect passage. A harmless passage that any sensible parent who loves great prose and who doesn’t believe in spanking doesn’t take seriously. It’s an incredibly affectionate book. Charming, as is the whole set. She tells me about the bookstore, and it’s quite disorganized and littered with unpacked boxes and books, books, are everywhere in disarray, and her cash register system seems not to work that well. She forgot to charge me 5 euros for the book bag, but says no worries. I say, here, I have some cash. 4 euros. Plenty! She’s a delightful person. From Canada, here in Paris since 1990. Bought the bookstore, founded it as a collective of 10 owners. She’s pretty much the one who is taking care of it. Asks me what I do, and when I answer asks, well, do we have any of your books? I have made a new friend, thanks to William Carlos Williams. And I walk home swinging my red wheelbarrow book bag. Still, no rain. In the flat, my daughter reads the Frances book aloud to me and her boyfriend. Success! We are all delighted. Then, a brief nap, windows flung wide open to the warm summer air, a shower, and I’m off again on a long ramble to wherever I please. Shopping! I walk to St. Germain des Pres and into many, many shops. I buy very little. It’s just relaxing and fun to see everything. Now, it’s quite hot, and crowded. But the rain is coming. The sky darkens. I find shelter in a cafe and have a coffee on a bustling street while it pours. I have forgotten my jacket and no umbrella. When it stops, I head home, but there’s no escaping the thunderstorm and pouring rain. I slap happily along the wet stone streets getting soaked. It’s so warm out, it doesn’t matter. I am walking in the rain in Paris, taking my time, doing just as I please. I love rain. It makes me feel clean and happy and fresh. And I have plenty of dry clothes to change into when I arrive home at our flat.