Pleasures of Life
It was certainly not in my roster of tasks for this weekend but I somehow managed to stumble upon these pictures of flowers that I took when I was visiting my daughter in the beautiful and tiny medieval town of Issigeac in France.
I usually collect all my flower pictures under the same folder and organize them by their approximate types so that it becomes easier to find one when needed (by the way, since I am not into classifying flowers – I am learning, though – a botanical expert would have goosebumps seeing my classification… Roses are ominous and easy to identify; other flowers, are not so easy. Who could help me here?). For some reason, these ones from France I did not put there, in the middle of many others, but I kept them in a separate niche, secluded, like a shrine that I could go there and admire, perhaps remembering my daughter from the other side of the ocean.
Is it possible that I dreamed about her without actually having a vivid remembrance of what succeeded there but only the evanescent mist of the dream would be still permeating my mind? Actually, the big question is: did I find the album because I dreamed about her or did finding the album made think about my dream?
It does not actually matter because these flowers are the current materialization of what I feel now. They are beautiful, they are happy, they are colorful. Such caring attributes must definitely represent what was my dream about her!
My last words in all my posts are something like “I hope you enjoy this…” or “Enjoy this set of pictures…”. Today, I will not say it. Today, I will say: “I am enjoying my life and I am enjoying my family!”.
P. S.: If you are curious about Issigeac, here are two pictures of this beautiful place with around 520 inhabitants. It is located in the South, two hours drive from Bordeaux.