Blogging has been driving me crazy these days. At least, trying to leave messages on other people’s blogs has become a real challenge. I’m not sure if it is my computer and Windows,which seems to always be updating its security or not, but every time I try to leave a message on a blog a signal comes up not once, but twice saying “Are you sure you want to go here? Security issues, etc.”. I always say yes. If I am going to post a comment on Blogger, at least once a day I have to totally sign in again with the same information they ask for each time. If it is Typepad, I sign in and it says it is good for two weeks but it is usually each day. Why, I don’t know. I’m wondering if it is because I am writing from France. Isn’t it amazing that computer systems pick this up? I am often given comments and warning in French too. AOL has started making my home page all French language and French news even though I have never requested this.

 Anyway, I was commenting the other day to a friend that the Internet has led to many amazing things, even rather mystical things. First of all, blogging has become an incredible way to connect with people all over the world but it has also, in my case, led to some almost magical, serendipitous happenings. As my friend says, there are no coincidences, no accidents. And she does count the Internet as something mystical. As she said, it is pure energy and our lives are all about energy anyway. It’s funny to think about it like that but I think I will believe it.

 You know summer is here when you finally hear the “song” of the cigale, that locust-like insect chirping like crazy to attract a mate. It isn’t quite summer yet but I heard my first cigale yesterday. It was singing solo, probably feeling a little lonely, hoping to find a date before the crowd arrives. Sometimes the noise of the cigales can get really irritating because they really do make a racket but the first one is a different story.

 On a walk the other day I passed a wheat field that certainly looks ripe to me but what do I know?

A few weeks ago this field was not only a sage green but also had bright red poppies in the tractor tracks.

Here is the wheat field from up above. The road you see curving below is one I take when I make my daily trek up the mountain to burn some calories. The buildings in the back are “my” village. The buildings across the road from the field belong to the sheep herd owners. They grow the wheat and then harvest it for food for the sheep. The vineyards next to the wheat are owned by the mayor. He has olive trees too.

 These baby grapes don’t look like much yet but they will be used for wine in a few months.

 A rather elegant looking curtain on a door in the village. I think they probably untie it during the day to keep out flies.

 The rather humble hollyhock. I have a couple growing wild in my yard and one I planted myself-from seed. For what is supposedly a weed, I had a horrible time getting them to grow and bloom. I have happy memories of them from my childhood.

 You never know what you will see as you enter the Palais Royal in Paris. Usually it is something like this:

It’s always an active place full of people enjoying the sun or the columns.

 One day I came upon this:

 There was a photographer there taking photos of this girl. I think it was for advertisement for a dancing class.

 Doesn’t she have a lovely smile?

There was also this girl in her toe shoes.

 I took these photos about a month ago. I, myself, am in Provence doing the snail stomp, pulling weeds, just the normal things you have to do to keep a yard going. We voted this weekend but our guy lost by a small margin. Maurice was happy that it was close so it gave ol’ Sarkosy a scare-he doesn’t have as many as he hoped to back him in the legislature. We got the leak in the swimming pool fixed but they did a majorly crummy job on repairing the plaster so now Maurice wants to cover it with tile. He actually was going to have it done next month but I think I talked him out of it. We would empty the pool and then they wouldn’t show up-very typical and Peter Mayle like. So I’m hoping Maurice will hold out until Autumn when it will be too cold to swim. Water is very expensive here and I hate to fill the pool twice in one season.

 In a village near us is a ruined chateau. The village is called la Tour d’Aigues. Tour is the word for tower. I assume there was once here but it is now gone. Aigues is an from the old Occitan language meaning water. Several towns in this region have Aigues in the name as there are in the “valley of water”. As I’ve said before (I am starting to repeat myself after a few years here in my blogging) I saw an old print of the chateau and it was magnificant. The damage was done during the revolution as the Revolution wasn’t just confined to Paris. It’s such a shame, destroying beautiful buildings like that-still being done today. In any case, I always enjoy looking at this castle as we drive by to our house. In the evenings, in the late sunlight, it glows with a golden hue.

Closeup of the angels on the chimney. During the summers they have concerts inside. We attended one and it was lovely sitting there looking at the old stones and towers which they lit up with colored lights.

 The architect was Italian. There are delicate little touches all over the building with stars, flowers and angels.

 Menerbes is a village made famous by the book by Peter Mayle called A Year in Provence. He lived somewhere nearby, eventually moved to the States and then came back and now lives somewhere near Lourmarin although he keeps it quieter not wanting tourists to drop in at his house unannounced. In any case, I’ve never thought there was too much of interest to see in Menerbes but the area up at the top is nice and there is a great view in the valley below.

 The bell tower of a church. The tops have to be open with the rod iron structure or the mistral can blow it right off.

 This is at the top near the Mairie-very noble looking.

 I don’t know if you can tell by this photo but there was a field of wheat down below and as the wind blew over it it looked like water moving to me.

 Someone’s humble home.

There was a Deux Chevaux car there. It is an old car no longer made with 2 horse power-not alot of power but they sure are cute. This one was in fabulous condition and the owner had put two little horse heads on the hood.

It certainly is!

 I found an interesting article-actually a photo essay from Time- posted on a food blog the other day. I can’t remember the blog now. Sometimes you start roaming around going from a link on one blog to another and can’t remember where you visited-I could spend hours doing that. 

 What the World Eats | Photo Essays | TIME

 Anyway, the photo essay is photos of a families in 14 different countries (two families are from the States) and what they eat in one week. Except for really poor countries like Chad and Ecuador, there are masses of processed food and lots of bottled drinks.

I wish they had included a photo of a French family. I wonder if the French eat less processed food? Supposedly they are healthier and thinner than most. If you go in a grocery store you see alot of it-processed food- with hundreds of kinds of yogurt, frozen pizzas, boxes of cookies, canned veggies. I guess the whole world enjoys an easier way of trying to put together a meal.

 I like to think I eat healthier here in France than I did in the States. I do have much more in the way of fruits and vegetables. I eat more cheese, I drink more wine. I’ts nice to open a can of peas when I am stumped about what to fix to go with those pork chops but some fresh zucchini sliced in circles and fried up with onions and tomatoes sure tastes better.