I found myself lost in my imagination of being in Paris when Spring comes, living on a little boat like one of these. Soaking up warmth from the light of the sun. The trees lining the river all full of leaves, all green. Fishing just for the sport of it. Picnics on red and white checkered table-cloths with fresh baguettes and strawberry jam. Reading Hemingway. And Berthillion's ice cream just a small walk away on the Ile-Saint-Louis. Sandals and sun-bleached hair.
I must admit, I have been staying indoors lately, and missing the unknown of what a day out and about would bring to pass. It's just been a bit too nippy, for a bit too long. I have grown just a bit too tired of wearing the same heavy winter coats, and I embrace the words of a French man who told me that a drastic winter will bring us a beautiful spring. His words are music to my ears and sunrays to my skin.
bisous,
Reba
Spring is imagineable, in your sunny photos. Forsyth Park was filled to the brim with people this weekend...in shorts and less. Azalea blooms are just around the corner, I think. Spring in Paris will be worth the wait, and sweeter for it.
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