Remembrance of things past…

especially when one is stranded in a car at the laundromat during a deluge of rain. With a wet dog.

Oh I remembered our trip to France in late summer. It was hot. It was sunny. The French villages were quiet and perhaps I remember the buzz of cicadas in the heat of the afternoon sun, when all the houses had their shutters drawn and their clothes hanging out to dry.

We drove through the countryside where farms and vineyards flourished. We bought fresh cheese and bread from the local market and we had a picnic on the porch of the guest house.

Church bells rang and marked the hours of the day.

Children peaked at me from the window of this house. I waved. They waved back, so I took a photo.

I drank my morning coffee (oh excuse me… cafe) on a patio, in the warmth of the late summer sun. Did I mention that it was warm and sunny during that visit?

And these were my reflections this afternoon as the rain pelted the car and Radio 4 broadcast an interview with a choir master from the Church of England… and a wet dog sat on my lap.

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