“The valley was mine, really mine; I had conquered it with my legs, and I was the real landlord by right of friendship.”
Today, I invite you to remember springtime in your youth. Go back to that enchanted period, filled with an abundance of nature’s delights. Perhaps you remember rushing outside to roll down grassy hills, or rubbing yellow dandelions on your skin, painting it with the sun…
Eventually, you put such childish frivolities aside, but the fresh spirit of Mother Nature still beckoned to do her job. Perhaps as a teenager you flirted on neighborhood walks, with only the bustling sparrows to watch you, or lay under the grand willow tree, relishing the cool vibrations of its lacey canopy rustling in the gentle afternoon breeze…
Throughout the ages, young love has intuitively gravitated to the open air where the bloom of Spring could work its magic on yearning hearts…
Spring doesn’t whisper. She parades her busy creation from on high to all who tune in to her blushing frequency. This may have been more obvious and accessible in Émile Zola’s time than it is today, distracted as we are by all this concrete, glass, and silicon. But she is nonetheless still there, with arms open, ready to accept us into her abundant bosom…
Today, I implore you to find a garden, a field on the edge of the woods, any patch of grass where you can set a blanket. Lay down, close your eyes and let the air wash over you, breathe deeply the smells of dirt and grass, and then listen to Zola’s tale of this momentous spring day.
Please enjoy…
“♡ Like” this post to let the love shine in.
p.s. Read the remaining three of Monsieur Gordon’s “Four Days” here. I expect to record each in turn during the coming year.
La Vie Parisienne: This week’s posting finds me in Paris with my ever-elegant mother. At this moment, we are surely soaking up each delicate, ornamented detail. I may pop back here before hitting “publish” to add some pictures, but if you are reading this now, then it is safe to assume I am simply too fully absorbed in this lovely adventure to be interrupted. Until next week!
“Rip Van Winkle” by Washington Irving, 1819
“Hilda Silfverling” by Lydia Maria Child, 1845
“The Bridal Party” by F. Scott Fitzgerald, 1930
