Not taking many pictures, wandering, grazing, looking, visiting with dear multi-generational family friends. My hostess in Passy is the amazing Betty Werther – trailblazing journalist and one of the loveliest souls you could ever hope to meet.
Another beautiful day, two little gems- one where I had a Rembrandt to myself for a solid 15 minutes in complete quiet, and - testimony to the power of painting - in a crowd that would normally drive me to murder, complete serenity. And selfies. And free WiFi. I love museums.
A revelation at the tiny Musée national Eugène Delacroix- an Odilon Redon after Delacroix- apparently he was a big fan; and they both count among my top-top list.
Pierre brought me flowers! And if one ever wondered where my cheekbones came from, one need only look at cousin Pat, great grandmother Caroline Elizabeth Dickens, ne Palmenter, and grand aunt Dickie - (Isobel Barrington, ne Dickens, b. 1883, sister to my maternal grandfather, Charles Stafford Dickens). Grand aunt Dickie payed for mum to come to the US after the war.
My metro-poster beach vaca and some glorious architecture, tapestry bunnies, and bling....
Good morning from the south of France #nottooshabby
Visiting my dear friend Virginie in Carry le Rouet after too many years, and there - my own Power, Force, and Circumstance sitting on top of the beautiful shelves made by her good man, Fabien Leroux, Dirigeant d'entreprise at Comessude.
Aix en Provence, lamb and duck grilled in front of the table, beautiful linen cloths, adorable shoes, and back to Carry le rouet for a delicious stew and a staggering assortment of cheeses and desserts that yet could not contend with the warmth and sweetness of the company.
Bonus Pic - Virginie caught me full-tourist!
Went on a little hike....
More Marseille, disappointed in the museums but great street art. And a hat that smells lovely. Think I’ll take a hike now.
Au revoir mon amis! Ooh... vache, love trains, ok- now I have had France. A last stroll along the Seine and an early flight home.
Cousin Daisy in from Australia the whole time I was in France and just enough overlap for us to trot up to the Cloisters, watch the exhibition get dismantled before our eyes, and back down for lunch with mum. The day recalled my visit to the cloisters in Aix with Virginie, and the sheepish quip I'd made that we had similar in New York, "we took them." A local passerby had chuckled.