Flashback: The View From Fox-Amphoux

As I settle in here on Viale di Trastevere, I'm hoping to catch up on recording the first bit of my trip--the vacation part with my husband, Andre, and, for the first few days, with our friends Howard, Melissa, and Artemis.  We had the great pleasure of staying with them in their home in Fox-Amphoux, a quiet village in Provence.  And I'm not using the word quiet casually.  When we stepped out of the car, in the middle of a little cluster of homes, the first thing I noticed was the profound quiet--a thick, rich quiet like cream poured over everything, in which the loudest sound for miles around were the cries of the swallows that swooped and soared overhead.

From up on the roof, the view stretched on for gorgeous miles.  Just ask Artemis.

A brief hike in the neighborhood brought us to this chapel, carved into the mountain by a sailor who narrowly escaped a shipwreck:

We also wandered and ate in nearby villages, like Aups, where we peeked into a lovely church:

And in Cotignac, we climbed up to where some of the local live in cliffside homes and make inventive use of caves:

Our days in France passed way too quickly--an amuse-bouche, hinting at the feast that is Provence.


  1. I been o'thar thrice, me wee lass.
    Loved it, loved it, loved it...
    though France is becoming more Americanized
    by the day which (a-hem)

    High, girl!
    While I realize my penname is quite morbid, yet,
    you shall find in our 24 blogs a gobba (subliminal) moxie
    which has taken this mortal sinner yeeeeers to compile:
    I lay it ALL out for you, dear - neet-o, packaged, concise.

    Nevertheless, wouldn’t ya love an endless eternity
    of aplomBombs falling on thy indelible cranium?
    An XtraXcitinXpose with no
    with an IQ much higher than K2,
    and an extraordinarily, sawcy, rowdy victory??
    Here’s what the exquisite, prolific GODy sed
    (with an excellent bullshot detector):

    “Faith, hope, and love,
    the greatest of these is love -
    jump into faith...
    and you'll see with love”
    Doesn’t matter if you don’t believe (what I write);
    God believes in you.

    Meet me Upstairs, girl, where the Son never goes down
    from a passionate, prolific iconoclasm where you’ll find
    nonillionsXnonillionsXnonillionsXnonillionsX… of
    deluxe-HTTP [<- pi] opportunities for excitement BTW.

    Do it. Do the deed, dude. Sign into the Big House.


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