Nelly

 My friend Nelly is an antiques dealer.  Yesterday, we went over late afternoon to chat over tea and cookies and for me to look over some of her stash to see what I could see...

 I bought some ribbon, a couple hats to put up on the wall by the staircase and a black-beaded necklace.  And then, we stayed for supper...

Nelly's daughter and her husband were visiting and were supposed to leave before supper but they stayed to contribute their particular specialties to the dinner fare.  Valerie made Socca, Renaud made Pistou for the pâtes au pistou and Nelly made a roasted vegetable salad.  Alain purchased bread and a fantastic head cheese which was free of the offensive bits you can sometimes find in head cheese.

The ambiance, as you can see, was magical but best of all were the hosts.  Kindness, a passion for life and a love of people and beauty were in abundance...

Nelly's house is, I'm guessing, 17th century. A maison de ville (town house) with garage on the street level, kitchen and living room next up followed by bedroom and bath and lastly, a studio with terrace at the top.  The tile on the first floor is original and gorgeous.  Visiting Nelly's is pure eye candy.
 

We will meet again in October when her town hosts a vide-grenier, a community-wide garage sale.

I. can't. wait.

Stella

L'Abbaye du Thoronet

France has three Cistercian Abbeys and one of these is a 20-minute drive from where we live.  We went there yesterday with our Canadian friends Émile and Lucille.

Whenever we have guests who've never been in our little area before, we fall in love again with our surroundings as we seen them with new eyes.

Life is beautiful.

Stella-with-stars-in-her-eyes

Fetching Water

While at home in France, we are privileged to access crystalline spring water to drink from the fountain in our street. The fountain is actually an old lavoir where the women on our street took their laundry to wash.  The slightly sloped edges of the pool were used to rub away stains and the dirty water was washed away in the stream that passes in front of our balcony.

Fortunately, there is no longer any laundry being done at the fountain and the water, tested yearly, is as clean as potable as bottled Evian.

Every few days, we make the short trip up the slope to the fountain across our tiny street and collect water.

The spirit lifts drinking it.

Stella-en-Provence