#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

“Little bloody skirts!

--from "Poppies in July", written 20 July 1962” ― Sylvia Plath, Ariel

How can it be 10:00 a.m.? I have slept twelve hours, lulled to sleep by a lovely rain. And the sun is blasting the French morning, here in Ardeche, in Saint-Lauren-du-Pape. The first thing, I have a swim in our friends’s newly installed pool. I am the first! It’s a saltwater pool in direct sun and it’s not heated, except the by sun, and it’s delicious. I am so well rested. A lovely breakfast. I am so conscious and aware of the red poppies in bloom all over the property. Wildflowers galore, the poppies so arresting. We have a day trip planned and drive to visit an ancient monastary in the French Alps:––the Monastary de la Grande Chartreuse. We tour inside the museum and learn about the silent, solitary day of the monks whose windows all have views to the Alps! Veronique and I make the hike up the hill to the actual cloistered monastery, which you cannot enter, of course, but it’s a lovely climb past the cows in the fields and under the trees and the views are magnificent. Red poppies everywhere, they will not leave my consciousness. And as we descend back to the car there is a very light and pleasant rain. The ride home is in the rain, windy roads. I fall into another deep sleep as Patrice manages the drive quite well. Another quiet, lovely dinner, so simple, an omelette and salad and ice cream and coffee. To sleep, windows open. Crickets.