Another little mix of some things which caught my eye on a sunny cool day in Paris.

I was with a lady the other day in Paris who was crazy about iron decorations so everywhere we went we looked for it-and found a lot.

A woman happilly feeding the birds.

“Would someone please get these pigeons off of me?”

I think this is such a great shape. It’s a light near Palais Royal, an area where I am often hanging out with my camera.

Even though Autumn officially arrived some time ago, I didn’t see too many traces of it in Provence. Some trees had started to turn yellow and there were tinges of gold and rust in the vineyards but the countryside in Provence is full of evergreen trees and Oak trees which aren’t known for their foliage. I was often reduced to a slow speed in my car when I came upon a tractor pulling a wagon full of grapes heading towards the Co Op so the vendage was underway.

It’s hard to beat a field of pumpkins to get that autumn feel. Actually, these aren’t the American variety of pumpkins but they taste the same to me. I loved how they were lined up in the field.

Two more views.

The vibrant color of some pyracantha in my yard.

Another plant in my yard which always turns such a great red.

And finally, speaking of red, a cropped photo (I’m trying to hide my hair before my haircut done several days later. Mary’s hair looked really great) taken in Lourmarin where I got to meet the delightful Mary whom I had only known from her blog: link She is as nice in person as you would think from visiting her blog. Now if I could only get her to decorate my home.

Behind the Louvre Museum, heading over to the Left Bank is the Pont des Arts, a pedestrian bridge spanning the Seine. It is always lively and you never know what you will see there. You might see impromtu parties, guitar players or singers. and sometimes some art work on display.

These two dapper gentlemen were there this day being filmed by someone, just strolling along with all of the tourists with their cameras taking photos of them who would also be in the shots of them.

From the middle of the bridge you can see Ile de la Cite, the island where Notre Dame is located.

A look in the other direction with the Orsay Museum down a way on the left.

A housboat tied up on the Seine right below the bridge. Wouldn’t you like to try this?

She hated getting her haircut especially in France where she was always afraid her bad French would lead to some strange creative urge on the part of the person cutting her hair ending up with something suitable for a Jean Paul Gautier fashion show but not really meant for an aging housewife not wanting stares from other women on the street. She kept her hair a medium length so that if she didn’t make it to a beauty salon for several months, it wasn’t a total disaster. Plus, she could pull it back in a pony tail to keep it out of her face if need be. For a long time, when she first moved to Provence, she saved her haircuts for her times in Paris but she had ended up with a couple of strange haircuts even there in the center of the fashion world. Finally a friend in Provence told her of a man with his own shop and it wasn’t even that far from where she lived.
The first time she went it didn’t turn out to be that bad of an experience and they didn’t even keep her waiting which was often the case in Paris where once as she sat there with wet hair, a lady whose hair was being colored lit up a cigarette. No, she was taken care of right away and the haircut was pretty good too and, to her surprise, it was much cheaper. Everyone in the salon told her that she looked like Shirley Maclane. It must have been her red hair, blue eyes and American accent and it wasn’t the first time she had heard that in France either. So, by the time months had passed, she boldly made the phone call herself to make an appointment. She thought she had the time down right but the French use military time and instead of saying three PM they said 1500. Needless to say, the guy who was to cut her hair wasn’t happy when she came in an hour late and gave her a dirty look. She made another appointment for the next day and got her hair cut but she didn’t like the way the man had cut her bangs, that feathered look. It took weeks for the bangs to grow out before she could cut them straight across. So for this haircut she told him to cut the bangs straight. He wasn’t pleased and, in fact, when he was finished he said it was a nice hair cut and looked good except for the bangs which he said were sh@#ty. She learned a new way to say the s word in French that day.
Months later she was back in Provence doing some serious gardening and also in need of a haircut again. In fact, her hair hadn’t been touched in months and was definitely looking shaggy. She managed to get an appointment on a Saturday morning-none of those pesky military times to work through-and went in to the shop, just seven minutes from her home. When the man was ready to cut her bangs he asked if he could feather them. She had trimmed them herself about a week ago and they were fairly short. She was going to say no when he told her that she would look like Joan of Arc if she didn’t let him. So she said, “Just a little”. This time the bangs looked fine. She was heading back to Paris in two days time wondering how long it would be before she got her hair cut again and if it would be in Provence or Paris.

I am writing this from Provence where Maurice and I are out in the yard every day cutting back weeds, pulling weeds, shaping bushes, planting bulbs-a little of everything. You can find out how out of shape or old you are after a day of yard work. We both are hobbling around like we are much older than we are. Anyway, here is a mixture of some photos taken here and there in Paris when I was there a few weeks ago.

In Notre Dame there is a chapel devoted to the Virgin of Notre Dame. It always has people praying there and there are always many candles lit. I am surprised at how popular the Virgin of Guadaloupe is.

What are you looking at?

There is usually always some interesting art work in the Palais Royal.

There are these golden tips everywhere on fences and gates around the Louvre and the Palais Royal.

A few photos I took of some shop windows a month or so ago, all of them with hues of pink.

Hard to see a pink Eiffel Tower and not know it’s an advertisement for underwear-in this case Chantal Thomass. The redhead reflected in the mirror is my sister.

The sign on the street for the same shop.

I think I may need to go back to this store and buy one of these for my grand daughter.

Hard to beat a cat in a tutu.