I am home. Or what I like to call “my parents home”. I have always been happy where they live now but I left my heart in the South when we moved to be closer to my grandparents. I do however like their present close proximity to Paris and the surrounding areas. I am spending a week there in the lush and cool climate of the Yvelines before heading down to Provence where I grew up.
As I was heading out to the Boulangerie-Patisserie the other day and took a few snapshots of their town. So typical of the area. A mix of old and new. Hope you enjoy the tour…
I know I am by the greenery around me. When we first moved here, we were mesmerized by how green and different trees and gardens were compared to Provence. You can bet I still have the same reaction now in South Carolina where things.
You know you are in France by the road signs and the very
messed up unusual intersections.
I think I can safely say that every small town in France is built around the church and here is no exception. This is where I spent many Sunday mornings wondering if sermons were this long the world around!
Old stones always bring about respect. Last time I said that my grandfather laughed that himself was an old stone. I can’t even begin imagine what he thinks as he looks at the Veterans Monument. The guy is a century old. He’s seen both wars. He’s got stories. That’s why we are all gathering. We can’t stop listening. And learning.
I remember sitting on this bench outside the church impatiently waiting for my parents to stop chatting with their friends and to take us to the patisserie for a little Sunday treat. Today I thought what a great background for my pictures this piece of old wood could be!
That afternoon, instead of coming straight home, I decided to take my niece Lea on a little walk through the park around the corner from my parents’ house. I handed her a little point and shoot and hop we went.
We walked for a few minutes and then I looked behind me and the picture before me filled my heart with love and pride. A budding photographer…
The ducks at the castle were there to welcome us. As kids we used to take them day old bread. I completely forgot about it this time that I was with Lea and they figured it in no time and turned around.
Yes, there is a castle in their town. One that lived through the French Revolution and that has been used after that in many different ways. It has been the City Hall for many many years now.
Everywhere you walk around the castle you can spot remnants of times long gone. A mix of overgrown and preserved.
One side of the castle used to be a primary school where I spent one year there. It was downright awesome… Going up stone cold stairways to get to our classroom. Daydreaming while looking through the windows over looking the water underneath us.
The doors are the same. The paint chips the same. Even the cobblestone have remained.
I will be back and show you more of the trip. Other places where I grew up and lived. In the meantime, I promised my two adorable nieces to bake a tart and a cake.
Note: from reading the comments there seems to be a misunderstanding: this is not the place where I was born and grew up.