Blue Skies

moulin skyBlue skies

black mountains 3Smiling at me

view to caunesNothing but blue skies

black mountains 2Do I see….

to carca 2Never saw the sun shining so bright

from moulinNever saw things going so right

to carcaNoticing the days hurrying by

genetWhen you’re in love, my how they fly

black mountains windmillsBlue days

black mountains wheatAll of them gone

black mountains pathNothing but blue skies

black mountains jogFrom now on…

The beautiful lyrics are by Irving Berlin. One of the best renditions is by Willie Nelson. All photos taken on my jog yesterday morning. Life is just fine when this is what one must deal with on a morning run. Three days of perfectly blue skies. And counting.



Tree dreams

Bouihonnac dreve

Drève is one of my favorite words in French. It’s where trees line both sides of a road, touching in the middle overhead.

Malves dreveI hear the word rêve in it. Dream.

Trebes dreve

Going through a drève on a hot summer day is indeed a rêve. The heat shimmers on the pavement, making everything seem as if you’re looking through water. You probably see a mirage puddle on the asphalt.

trebes dreve 2Then you plunge into the cool tunnel of trees. It’s another world. A dappled world where you can breathe, unlike in the scorching heat outside.

Dreve 2And then you’re out again. Wondering why trees weren’t planted everywhere along the roadsides.