Friday, May 17, 2013

The Fields of Provence

The poppies, the poppies ... I want to live where there are fields of poppies. I want to get up in the morning and have my coffee and go out to herd the sheep and the long-horned goats to a new field to graze, and come back for a long leisurely lunch with wine and coffee.

The last lamb stood yelling after its mother at the other end of the field, looking over at me at the edge of the road and then back to the herd moving farther away, and then maaa-ing again in indecision as to whether to try to catch up, or go back to the farmyard. Mom says that the last she saw of it, it was heading back to the safety of the barn.

It wouldn't be an idyllic life I'm sure, for me or the last lost lamb, but when the sun is shining across the olive groves on a May morning in Provence, it's pretty damn close.

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