We’re agreed, the calendar says spring. My fruit trees, forsythia and daffodils seem to agree. Here’s the “hic” as the French would say, the temperatures have been quite frisky of late. We’ve had beautiful, sunny days, but as you can see from these pictures on the street in the village near ours, no one has given herself over wholeheartedly to the idea she can breakout her warm weather gear.
Even when the urge is there and the days are sparkling bright, velvet jackets, cardigans and raincoats — everything from a classic trench to the bold mauve, blue and lime plaid take on the theme — continue to be part of the scene.
Once again I haven’t ventured out of my comfort zone. Several appointments will take me into Paris next week so I’ll try to muster my courage. Parisian women can be sooo difficult. I would like to explain the difference between a blog and the dreaded Internet where some potential subjects fear their images might be featured on a porn site by some mysterious vapor on the virtual waves that would carry their photos from my address to who knows where.